Rules of Protection (Tangled in Texas) (Volume 1) (11 page)

The chicken coop was a large rectangular pen framed with chicken wire, had a rusted tin roof, and a door you opened by turning a small block of wood nailed to the outside.

I had never gathered eggs before, but it sounded easy enough. At least until they mentioned the killer chicken. I should’ve kept my mouth shut and let Jake do it. If it wasn’t for the stupid power struggle going on between us, I probably would have. I didn’t actually
want
to gather eggs. What I wanted was to prove Jake wrong. Hard to do when he was always right. The bastard.

“Watch out for the wasp nest in the back right corner,” Hank said. “If you disturb them, you’ll get stung before you can get out.”

“Wasp nest. Back right corner,” I repeated, trying to dig deep.

Jake opened the door to the large pen. Chickens of all sizes and colors ran toward the back, huddling against the wall.
Hell, this might be easier than I thought.
My confidence level shot upward, and I stepped inside without hesitation. The smell was disgusting. Tiny gnats were everywhere. I breathed through my nose instead of my mouth.

The hen boxes were located on the right side of the pen. I moved slowly, trying not to scare the chickens—or myself—any more than I had to. Most of the boxes held at least one egg. Some had hens still in them. No big deal, though. I’d grab the eggs and be on my way. And Jake thought I couldn’t do it? What an idiot!

I grabbed an egg out of the first box I came to and carefully put it in the bucket. Simple. Then I reached for another in the next box. The chickens left their huddle in the corner and dispersed, though they still avoided me.

I spotted the rooster strutting nearby, but he looked as harmless as the rest of them. He was brightly colored with red, orange, and black feathers, but wasn’t nearly as large as I had pictured in my head. He pecked the ground around him as he walked back and forth, never coming any closer than the hens did.

I shook my head, reached for another egg, and yelled out, “Jake, I think you’re a weenie. This rooster is as tame as a—”

The rooster snared my attention when he threw back his head and crowed. It must’ve been his battle cry, because he launched himself at me in a fury of flapping wings and pointy beak. He was on me faster than I could run. I screamed like a girl and hit him with the bucket, knocking him against the chicken wire. He landed on the floor in a daze. I left the two broken eggs where they fell and ran.

Jake opened the door as I dashed out, practically knocking him over. “Are you all right?” he asked.

I held up my arm where a trickle of blood had formed. “That pecker bit me!”

After a serious pause, the three of them burst into hysterics. I wasn’t the least bit amused. “What’s so funny?”

Hank was the first to quiet down. “Honey, that’s the same as saying a shark licked you. Roosters can’t bite. They don’t have teeth.”

“Felt like a bite.”

Jake examined my arm. “It’s barely bleeding, you crybaby.”

“Well, big man, then let’s see your technique. You go get the eggs,” I challenged, handing over the bucket.

He smirked as he stepped into the chicken coop. There was a moment of silence, a light rustling sound, and then the rooster crowed. Feathers flapped and Jake screamed, hitting a much higher note than I did. Then he ran out of the chicken coop.

“Holy shit!” Jake yelled, looking down at the scratches and a bleeding peck wound on his shirtless chest. “I agree with Emily—the damn nuisance has teeth!”

Jake looked frazzled from his humbling experience. None of us could hold back the laughter. We laughed until each of us was doubled over in pain from our aching bellies. It was a side of Jake I hadn’t seen before. I’d seen him laugh and smile, but this was something different. He was more peaceful, more at home with himself.

“All right,” Hank said, still chuckling. “Time to get back to work. We’ll let the womenfolk tend to those eggs.”

Womenfolk? Now I knew where Jake got the macho bravado crap—his uncle’s an old-fashioned, sexist pig.

Floss accepted the bucket from Jake and disappeared into the chicken coop. Moments later, she emerged with a bucket of eggs. Guess we should’ve left the job to the professional.

I spent the rest of the afternoon with Floss. She walked me from pen to pen, pointing out the different types of birds they raised; pheasants, quail, guineas, white doves, and homing pigeons were some of the more diverse species. Together, she and I fed and watered all the animals on their property. Birds first, then horses, and then we went around the backside of the barn to feed the rabbits.

There were two of them in a large off-the-ground cage, one black with lop ears named Jack and one white with brown spots named Twitcher. Jack happily munched a carrot, but when I offered one to Twitcher, she growled and hissed at me. I didn’t know rabbits could make sounds, but Floss said they could scream. It reminded me of
Watership Down
, and that movie always gave me the willies. I tossed the carrot inside and locked the cage fast.

The men finished the colt’s stall and started stacking bales of hay. Afterward, they worked on the well pump together. Jake smiled a lot, as did Hank. I wasn’t sure which one of them had the better time, but I saw a lot of respect and love between them.

I stood on the back porch eating an oatmeal raisin cookie left over from lunch and watched Jake work. He was still shirtless. Easy on the eyes, but hard on the mind. Hank pointed across the yard at something, but I couldn’t make out what it was. He said something to Jake that made him sprint across the yard and scoop it up.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I went down the back steps. Both men stood at the base of a large dead tree when I joined them.

“What are you looking at?” I asked, as Jake turned to face me. “Ooooh!”

He held a tiny duckling covered in brown downy feathers. “Here, Emily, take this one.”

“There’s another one, Jake,” Hank said.

Jake jogged a couple of steps and scooped him up, handing that one to me, as well. “They’re going to kill themselves,” Jake said, looking up again.

I gazed up at the hollow in the top of the dead tree, at least fifteen feet off the ground. “They’re coming from way up there?”

Hank nodded. “Our Muscovy duck had laid some eggs in the hollow last year, but they never hatched. Didn’t think to check this year. Guess they laid some more and those hatched.”

“Where’s their mother? Shouldn’t she be around here somewhere?”

“She’s in the pond,” Hank said. “Can’t you hear her sloshing around in the water and calling them? She’s trying to get them to come out of the tree. Jake, grab one of those five-gallon buckets in the barn and a ladder. We’ll climb up and see if there are more in the nest.”

While Jake got the ladder and bucket, two more yellow ducklings jumped out of the nest, bounced off the ground, and were now resting in Hank’s large hands. Their tiny heads poked out through his fingers and they peeped relentlessly. Jake leaned the ladder against the tree and climbed up. He came back down with six more ducklings.

The four ducklings we held reunited with their siblings inside the bucket by clumping together on one side. “Now what?” I asked.

“Now, we put them in a brooder box with a heat lamp,” Hank said. “It’ll keep them warm and safe from predators.”

“What about the momma duck? Are you going to catch her?”

“Why would I do that?” Hank asked, looking at me strangely.

“How are they going to suckle?”

Hank and Jake looked at each other with astonishment and then chuckled. “Emily, ducks don’t have nipples,” Jake said.

“Or lips,” Hank mumbled under his breath with a smirk.

I was confused. “Then why do the babies go under the momma’s wings?”

“To get warm,” Jake answered, trying not to laugh again.

My cheeks warmed. How was I supposed to know? It’s not like I was raised on a farm.

Hank led us to the brooder box and opened the lid. There were two sides to the brooder, and one side already overflowed with colorful chicks. Huddled near the heat lamp, they all began peeping once disturbed. Hank plucked up a white chick and placed it gently in my palm.

One peek and I melted. “Aww,” I said, cooing to the chick with the fluffy head. “It’s so cute.” Then it shit in my hand. “Ew, gross. Take this nasty thing.”

Jake grabbed it and placed it back with the others. He didn’t laugh this time, but the shit-eating grin on his face told me he wanted to. I rinsed off my hand with the nearby hose while Jake put the ducklings into the other side of the brooder box and turned on their heat lamp. Hank gave them food and water, which the ducklings walked through and made a mess of within about thirty seconds.

“Well, kiddos, dinner should be close to ready,” Hank said, looking at his watch. “Let’s wash up and eat. We’ll work on the well pump more tomorrow, Jake.”

As soon as we went inside, I stepped into the bathroom and washed my hands with soap. Twice. Then I headed to the kitchen. “Floss, can I help with anything?”

“Do you cook, dear?”

“Does boiling water or using a microwave count? I’m willing to learn, but my mom wasn’t able to…uh…well, she wasn’t around.”

“Everything is about ready, but tomorrow I’ll get you to help me with dinner.”

“Sounds good.” I sat next to Jake.

“Oh, and Emily, Junior called to say he was bringing over some clothes for you that belonged to his daughter. He’s going to drop them off in the morning.”

Jake gave Floss a look, but I couldn’t grasp the meaning behind it and let it go. He probably wondered the same thing I did. How did Junior know I needed extra clothes?

“That’s sweet of him,” I said, taking a sip of iced tea. “What about you, Jake? Don’t you need to go into town and buy a few things? You have fewer clothes than I do.”

“I can pick up some things later.”

“Actually,” Floss interrupted. “You have clothes you left up in the attic, Jake.” She smiled at me. “Every time Jake came in for a visit, he’d leave an article behind. I collected them in a box. Good thing, huh?”

“Yep, good thing.” Jake smiled at her. “I’ll go up and pull the box down first thing in the morning.”

Minutes later, Floss had dinner on the table. She put ears of corn on each of our plates and went to tell Hank dinner was ready. He was still in the bathroom washing up. I inspected the corn, but my stomach rolled with a wave of nausea.

“Jake, I don’t want to hurt her feelings, but I don’t think I can eat it after what you told me about the dead bodies,” I whispered. “I’d always wonder if it came from the same field.”

“My aunt and uncle grow their own corn,” he whispered back. “You’re safe. No dead bodies.”

I sighed with relief. “Thank God.”

Hank and Floss joined us at the table, and we passed around the platters of food. When Jake handed me a platter of golden fried balls, I paused. They resembled hush puppies, but I wasn’t sure about eating them.

“What are these?”

“Fish balls,” Hank said, dipping one in tartar sauce and taking a bite.

“Seriously? I didn’t know fish had—”

Jake clamped his hand over my mouth and politely excused us before dragging me away from the table. In the living room, he glared at me with exasperation. “What’s your problem?”

“Mine? What’s yours? I’m sure they’ve heard the word balls before. Hell, I bet your uncle even has a pair.”

“Damn it, Emily. I don’t want to think about my uncle’s balls before I eat,” Jake said, crinkling his nose at me.

“Well, neither do I, but I was making a point.”

Jake shook his head. “Jesus Christ, you have an issue with censorship.”

“No shit!”

“Next time, think about what you say before you open your mouth,” Jake warned. “Didn’t your parents teach you to respect your elders?”

“No, I’m sorry they didn’t,” I snarled. “They were too busy dying to bother.”

Jake froze, realizing what he said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“Tell your aunt thanks for dinner, but I’m not hungry. I’m going to bed.” Then I walked out the front door.

Chapter Eight

Jake found me sitting on the cottage porch an hour later, rubbing my fingers through Dog’s white coat and scratching behind his speckled ears. Dog never moved, but his warm body suggested he was still alive. Barely. Maybe.

He disappeared during the day, but by the time the sun went down, Dog was back on the porch and dead once again, at least to the world.

“Taming the savage beast?” Jake asked as he sat next to me.

I grinned, but my heart wasn’t in it. “He’s blowing his image. Aren’t country dogs supposed to be hunters? He might as well be mounted on the wall.”

“Nah, the possums are big enough around here that we use them as coon dogs.” Jake paused for a thoughtful minute. “I figured you’d be asleep by now. Having trouble winding down?”

I shook my head. “No, I needed some male action.” Jake raised one eyebrow. “Not that kind,” I said. “There’s a spider the size of a small horse in there. I wanted you to kill it. You know how I am about spiders.”

A muscle twitched in his strong, angular jaw. I think he wanted to laugh, but refrained from it. Then his eyes turned to me, his face becoming more serious. “Emily, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say…”

“It’s okay, Jake. No need to apologize. I know it wasn’t what you meant. Besides, there’s some validity to what you said.”

“But I shouldn’t have brought up your parents. It wasn’t right.”

At the mention of them, tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I hung from a cliff by my fingertips, and the emotional weight pulled at my feet. I managed to push back the sadness and smiled crookedly. His eyes locked on my trembling mouth. I nervously glanced away, gathered my hair at the nape of my neck, and braided it together.

“Floss told me she mentioned the funeral,” Jake added. “She didn’t know I hadn’t said anything to you about it.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t—”

“My parents died last year. At the same time, on the same day. It nearly killed me. It’s part of the reason I haven’t been back here.” He swallowed hard, struggling with his speech. “They died because of me.”

Minutes crept by silently. I didn’t want to ask him to share anything he wasn’t willing to. We stared up at the glass dome of stars while Jake marinated in his guilt.

Sometimes in life, you need to be able to throw something out into the universe, a rhetorical statement warranting no judgment from others. It’s what I wanted to give to Jake because it’s what I wished someone would’ve given to me when I thought the same thing about my own parents.
They died because of me.

His dark hair was slightly disheveled, and his gray eyes drooped with weariness. The manual labor he performed under the sun had taken a physical toll, but the mental strain of his parents’ death still weighed heavily on him. I understood that feeling well.

“Tired?” I asked, unsure how he managed to stay awake.

“I’m beat,” Jake replied. “I’ll go take care of your spider problem so we can go to bed.”

My temperature rose slightly, thinking about snuggling into his warm, hard body. And he must’ve noticed the little smile gathering at the corner of my mouth.

“Emily, I don’t think either of us got much sleep last night with the…uh…tension in the room. Unless you want a repeat, we’re going to have to pretend there’s a crossing guard between us tonight.”

“A
ménage à trois
?” I said with a teasing laugh. “Might be interesting.”

Jake paused. “Shit.”

…

It took me forever to fall asleep, but I must’ve finally dozed off, because when I opened my eyes, Jake was asleep next to me. Actually, he was under me. I had draped myself across his chest, capturing his body heat. It was like cuddling with a high-temperature furnace. As cold as it was in the room, the cottage could’ve been easily mistaken for a cabin in Alaska.

It was five o’clock when the stupid rooster started crowing relentlessly, robbing me of my sleep. The sun hadn’t even risen yet. Dumbass bird should be on Prozac.

I shifted slightly against Jake to get more comfortable. His body tensed as his muscled forearms tightened their grip around my back, pulling me further in to him. A knee slid up between my thighs. His warm breath quickened, blowing against my neck. Suddenly, the room changed from cold to hot, like Jake was a sunray burning into my skin. Flustered, I considered cranking down the air conditioner in the room before I melted.

When something hard pressed heavily into my pelvis, I knew Jake was awake. I leaned my mouth closer to his, brushing my lips lightly over his. “Jake…”

“We can’t,” he whispered, sounding painfully unsure of himself. “Stop before this goes any further.”

“I don’t want to stop,” I said softly, letting my tongue flicker across his briefly. “I want to feel you inside me.”

A definite pause on his part. Then he dumped me back onto my own side of the bed. “Jesus Christ, Emily. I’m a man. You can’t say that sort of thing to a man and expect him to maintain any sense of self-control.”

I narrowed my eyes and pursed my lips, stopping myself from saying,
Duh. That’s the point, dipshit!
“You don’t have any problems with self-control. In fact, you’re good at pushing me away. Must be all the practice you’re getting.”

“Don’t give me a hard time.”

“I’m not. What I want is for you to give
me
a hard time.”

He sighed wearily, throwing his head back onto his pillow. “Once the trial is over we’ll be able to—”

“The trial could be months or even a year away. You’re crazy if you think I’ll wait that long for something that’s not a sure thing.” Okay, so it was a lie. I’d wait for him if I had to, but I wasn’t stupid enough to tell him that. At least not yet.

“Oh, it’s a sure thing,” he said with a sardonic laugh. “When I do finally get inside you, you’re going to wish you hadn’t teased me the way you have.” Then he raised his eyebrows and lifted the corner of his mouth in a smirk.

I wanted to respond, but the words caught in my throat. After a moment, all I could say was, “God, I hate you sometimes.” Then I rolled to my side, facing away from him, and went to sleep with hard nipples.

And he thinks I’m a tease?

…

Two days went by, and I was bored out of my mind.

Hank found me sitting in the backyard on an old, rickety bench overlooking an aboveground pool filled with cloudy, urine-colored well water, littered with bug corpses and dead leaves. At least I think it was a pool. It looked more like the horses’ watering trough.

“You okay, honey?”

I nodded. “I don’t have anything to do, so I’m watching the squirrels.”

“I hate those damn things,” Hank said, scowling up at the tree. “They get up in the attic, build nests in the insulation, and shred everything up. I’ve been battling them ever since Floss planted a pecan tree and it produced nuts.”

“How do you get rid of them?”

“Shoot ‘em.”

I gasped. “Hank, that’s mean!”

He grinned with amusement at my reaction. “Last squirrel I shot had its nuts still in its mouth when it went down.”

That made me laugh. “Didn’t want to let go, huh?”

“Came down to a choice—its nuts or its life. Damn squirrel chose to keep its nuts.” Hank nodded toward Jake, walking toward us from across the yard. “I reckon most men would do the same.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant, but somewhere in his words there was bound to be a pearl of wisdom. I had a few choice comments, but I didn’t say anything, figuring Jake would get mad at me again.

“I’m burning the last of the brush pile from the back of the property,” Jake said to Hank. “What do you want me to do now?”

“Take a break,” Hank demanded.

“I’m fine,” Jake said. “I’ll rest after the work’s done. I’m trying to keep you off your bum knee as long as I can, old man.”

“I’ll make you think old man, you piss ant.” Hank glared at Jake, but the taunting smile on his face led me to believe he wasn’t serious. “If you want something to do, why don’t you take the culled birds down to the pond? Take Emily with you. She’s bored. It’ll give her something to do.”

Jake started to argue but decided against it. “Come on, Emily.”

We strolled to the barn, where Jake picked up a bucket covered with a lid and continued toward the pond. Almost there, we heard the sound of a truck rumbling down the driveway. Jake tensed for a moment and reached for my arm but relaxed as three young men and a pretty blond woman slid out of the tan Ford. All four of them waved at Hank, then walked in our direction.

“Can’t say I’m surprised to see them,” Jake said, undeterred from his mission.

I stumbled after him but curiously glanced back at the new arrivals in the distance. “Who are they?”

“Friends of mine,” Jake said, stopping next to a moss-covered tree and removing the lid on the bucket.

The pond sat closer to the back of the property, surrounded by red oak and cypress trees. A green scummy film of algae floated on the surface around the lilies, and small turtles rested on a log within the cattails at the water’s edge. Between the thick, stinky black mud on the shoreline and the green climbing vines and weeds, the pond resembled a cross between a jungle and a swamp.

I leaned over to check out the contents of the bucket and saw nothing but dead birds. “Oh, gross! Why are there dead birds in there?”

Jake picked one up and threw it in the pond. “Got to get rid of them somehow.”

“How’d they die?”

“Disease or sometimes gnats. Most of these were already dead,” Jake explained, picking up another. “Well, except for this little guy right here. He was on his deathbed. Hank pulled his head off this morning.”

My God! First squirrels and now his own birds? If Dog wasn’t already dead, I’d worry about his safety.

“This is disgusting,” I said, openly disapproving of Hank’s methods. “I’m not going to stand out here in the weeds, watching you throw dead birds into a smelly pond.”

I turned to walk off, but a dragonfly flitted past my nose. Flustered, my right heel caught on a cypress knee, and I stumbled backward into the pond. I was surprised at the depth. No shallow area to stand in, just a sheer drop-off into deep water. I broke the surface of the water, used my hands as a squeegee to wipe the slimy film from my face, and thought about crying.

Hank peered over the old tractor he tinkered with and laughed. “What you doing in there, honey? Checking to see if those fish have balls?”

Jake grinned as he continued throwing dead birds into the pond. Three young men ran out to join Jake on the bank, but no one appeared overly concerned about my situation.

One wearing a white straw cowboy hat asked Jake, “You going to fish her out?”

“Nope.”

“Mind if we do?”

“Have at her,” Jake said, throwing the last dead bird into the pond.

I waited for one of them to produce a rope or lean down on the bank and offer me a hand, but nooo…the morons stripped off their shirts, hats, and boots, then jumped in.

“Might want to hurry,” Jake told them. “Charlie’s lost interest in the birds.”

I splashed some floating algae away as the man who wore the cowboy hat reached me. “Who’s Charlie?” I sputtered, clueless.

The man grinned. “Hell, darlin’, he’s the gator you’re sharing this pool with.”

I shrieked and flailed my arms, trying to grab anything I could on the side of the bank to pull myself up. The man grabbed me and hauled me quickly toward the side of the pond as the other two men swam next to us. I screamed all the way there.

“Sweetheart, I’m starting to go deaf. Now, stop thrashing around before you drown both of us.” We reached the side where the slope of the bank wasn’t as severe, and he dragged us both out of the water, dropping me on the muddy bank. “See, you’re fine. That hissy fit you threw was uncalled for. God always takes care of helpless creatures.”

Yeah, sure. Tell that to the squirrels and the birds.

Once the other two men crawled out of the pond, the man who saved me pulled me to my feet. “You must be wearing lotion or something. I’ve caught salamanders in here that weren’t as slippery as you,” he said, making me want to roll my eyes. Sure, it had nothing to do with the green slime clinging to me. “You all right now, sweetheart?”

“Yes, thank you.” I glanced over at Jake, who casually talked to the pretty blonde with the overinflated chest. She walked up and hugged him, which made my eyes narrow. “Excuse me for a moment. I have to go borrow a gun from Hank.”

I stormed past the man, but he grasped me firmly by the arm and threw me over his shoulder. “Oh, no you don’t, Tiny. I haven’t seen Jake in over a year. You can’t kill him until I’m through with him. Now, let’s go get you cleaned up.”

The man carried me up to the house before putting me down. He turned on the hose and sprayed me from head to toe. The well water sprayed out warm at first, but quickly changed to freezing cold. I shivered.

“Cold?” he asked.

“F-f-freezing.”

He pulled me to his chest and kept his arm around my waist as the hose rained down over the both of us, rinsing off the green algae. I tried to move away, but he tightened his grip.

“Stay still, darlin’. I’m trying to keep you warm.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about some strange guy—especially a friend of Jake’s—holding me against his shirtless, nicely toned body. That is, until the others walked closer to the house, the blonde’s arm looped through Jake’s and her right breast resting comfortably against his bicep. They were deep in conversation, smiling at each other, and…and well, it pissed me off.

I did the only thing I could in this situation. I leaned into Jake’s friend and wrapped my arms around the back of his neck. His green eyes sparkled like emeralds and the color deepened. My lips were close to his as I breathed out, “Is there anything I can do to thank you?” I purposefully made my tone sultry.

Jake’s mouth hinged open, followed by the mouths of the men and the woman on Jake’s arm. The only one who didn’t look shocked was the man holding me, though his breathing was a little ragged. He turned the hose on himself and sprayed his chest, letting the ice cold water run down his front. The ridge in his pants led me to believe it wasn’t the algae he tried to do away with.