Autumn Awakening

Autumn Awakening

Part 9 of the Summer Unplugged Series

By Amy Sparling

***

Copyright © 2015 Amy Sparling

All rights reserved.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover art from shutterstock.com

Cover design by Amy Sparling

First edition December 23, 2015

I know what Becca is thinking before she says it. We stand next to each other, both of us looking at the mannequin in the glass display of a men’s clothing store. My lip curls as I take in the outfit on display: a pair of skinny jeans and a white button up long sleeved shirt under a brown leather vest. The mannequin’s faceless head wears a black fedora and in its hand is a long pinstriped umbrella.

“Jace would never wear that,” Becca says. “There’s no point in going into this store . . . trust me.”

“I know, but I’m out of ideas,” I say, gnawing on my bottom lip as I turn to watch the store’s customers entering and leaving the sore, arms carrying bags of high end clothing that my husband would never wear. Jace is more of a ripped up jeans and motocross t-shirt kind of guy. He has a few pairs of non-trashed dark wash jeans that he’ll wear on date nights and that’s about it.

He definitely would never wear a fedora. And his idea of an umbrella is running through the rain with his hands above his head. I let out a slow breath and turn away from the glass display. “I will never find a good anniversary gift for him.”

Becca watches me curiously as I frown and then crumple into a mini breakdown. “Oh my god, Bec. I’ll never think of anything! We’ve only been married two years and he’s going to think I’m the most pathetic wife ever! What kind of wife can’t get a gift for her husband after only two years?” I run a hand through my hair and I don’t expect Becca to answer, but she does say something, only I’m not listening to it.

I move away from the store and Becca grabs my elbow, slowly pulling me toward a bench in the middle of the mall. We sit and then her soothing words hit me, as if I’ve only just started paying attention to the fact that she’s talking.

“The thing about Jace is that he’s a simple guy who doesn’t want for much. It’s not your fault that he doesn’t have a huge list of things to buy him. I mean, ew.” Her face squishes up as she squeezes my hands in hers. “Who would want a guy who is that materialistic? Not me.”

“Is Park materialistic?” I ask. They’ve been dating several months now and I consider him a really good friend, but even as I ask the question, I’m not sure what the answer would be. Of course, he is Jace’s best friend since childhood and I can’t picture Jace liking someone who would wear a fedora like the one on that mannequin.

She shakes her head. “I want to say no. But he’s kind of obsessed with collecting pocketknives, so maybe.” She smiles and pulls the hair tie out of her ponytail, only to retie it higher up on her head. “Stop stressing. You’ll find the perfect gift for Jace. Besides it’s only July fifteenth.”

“Exactly,” I say, exasperated. “I started thinking of a gift for him three months ago and now I only have three weeks to figure it out.”

“No,” she says, shaking her head and donning a coy smile. “You have
three
entire weeks to figure it out! That’s a long time!”

I groan and roll my eyes. “You have an entirely too positive outlook on life.”

“Well, I am Becca from Becca’s Inspirations,” she says, lifting her chin. “Thinking of positive ways to look at life is kind of my sole livelihood.”

“That reminds me,” I say, gazing off toward the long corridor of mall stores behind us. One of them has to have a great gift for Jace inside. I glance back at Becca. “How are the kiddie canvases coming along?”

“Kiddie Canvases . . . that would be a great name for a subsection of my shop,” she says, musing. She spreads her hands out wide and gazes up at the skylight above our heads, her mind in the clouds. “I could use these canvases as inspiration for an entire line of kid-themed wall art!”

“That’s actually a really great idea,” I say. “But you haven’t answered the question.”

Becca recently turned her love of pinning inspirational quotes on Pinterest into painting canvases that say the quotes and other uplifting things. She uses beautiful paints and textures like glitter or paper, and she sells them on her Etsy shop online. So far she’s made a ton of money and doesn’t feel like finishing college, despite the fact that her parents think that is a terrible idea.

Now that Jace and Park went in together to build a motocross track and training business, I hired Becca to paint ten cute canvases for the kid’s room at the new business. They’ll all have cute quotes from my favorite books of my childhood.

She looks back at me but her thoughts still seem far away. “Sorry, my muse latched onto me and wouldn’t let me go for a minute. The canvases are done. I added a clear coat on them last night just so you could wipe them clean if they got dirty.”

“They’ll be hanging on the wall,” I say, lifting an eyebrow. “How would they get dirty?”

She shrugs. “Projectile baby vomit?”

My eyes go wide. “Jett has never done that.”

“First time for everything,” she says, rising from the bench. “And when he does, you’ll be glad I added the clear coat to the canvasses.”

We walk through the mall for a while longer, stopping at a few stores for ourselves, which is fun until I’m standing at the checkout of Victoria’s Secret, realizing my bags are full of stuff for me and stuff for Jett and nothing for Jace. I sigh as we leave the store. “Okay let’s think. You’ve known Jace almost as long as I have, and you are my best friend and also the maid of honor at my wedding two years ago,” I stop and give her a sardonic smile. “Choosing the perfect gift for Jace is kind of your responsibility, too.”

“I love your way of thinking, but I didn’t marry the guy, babe. You did.”

“Blah,” I say.

“What did you get him last year again?” she asks as we pass by a coffee shop that smells like heaven. “I forget.”

“I got him a one-on-one meeting with that guy in California who is famous for calibrating suspension on his dirt bike.”

“Yeah, none of those words made sense to me,” she says with a laugh.

“It was an exclusive gift for his dirt bike and he loved it more than he loves me,” I say. “Which was really stupid of me because how the hell am I supposed to top that gift for our second anniversary?”

“Remind me never to get married,” she says. “It’s too much work.”

I bump into her with my shoulder. “Yeah, right. If Park proposed to you, you’d say yes before he even got all the words out.”

She grins. “I know. But look at it this way . . . you’re not expected to top each year’s gift. Because then if you were married fifty years or something, you’d be giving each other the Mona Lisa for a gift. It’s just not practical.”

I nod a little and run my hand over a hot pink leopard print scarf that hangs from one of the kiosks in the middle of the mall. “I just want a gift that shows him how much I love him and how much he means to me. I need something that tells him he’s the perfect husband and dad. And that is freaking impossible.”

“Write him a poem,” Becca says. “And tell him all of that stuff, just in a more romantic and rhyming way.”

I roll my eyes. “A good best friend would give out better advice than that.”

“No, a good best friend won’t let you buy a scarf this ugly.” She takes the scarf from my hand and throws it back on the shelf.

“We should head back,” I say, unable to hide the sorrow in my voice. But finding Jace’s anniversary gift is my problem so I shouldn’t keep dragging Becca down with me. “I don’t want to take advantage of Mom’s free babysitting.”

“Psh,” Becca says, blowing a raspberry. “Your mom loves that kid. She’d probably pay you to let her watch him all the time.”

“Now there’s a business idea.” I grin as we head out of the mall and into the parking lot.

Becca throws her arm over my shoulder as we walk. “Seriously, Bay. Don’t stress about this. Knowing Jace, he doesn’t care if you even get him a gift. He’s just happy to have you in his life. So try to relax.”

“That’s just it. I’m sure he doesn’t care if I get him anything, but I want to get him something. I need him to feel as special as I do on a daily basis.”

“Blow jobs would do that trick,” she says, laughing. I punch her in the arm.

“I could never get him a gift like that,” I say.

“Why not?”

I shrug. “Because how would I wrap it?

Last year, Jace and his best friend Park came up with an idea to start a business together. Since they both grew up racing motocross and even went professional for a while, they both wanted to work with dirt bikes. Jace has been working as a trainer for kids who want to get faster on a dirt bike and improve their technique, but he’s been doing it as a contracted employee at Mixon Motocross Park, the local track. Now he’s striking out on his own and working for himself.

I think it’s kind of funny that he took so long to tell me when they first got the idea. He’d been afraid that I’d veto the plan of dropping so much money into starting the business, but I wasn’t. I was thrilled about the idea. Jace and Park are smart and most of all—they know motocross. I knew that tons of parents would be lining up to pay good money to have their kids trained by the best. Plus I loved the idea for purely selfish reasons: once the business is up and running, I’ll have a guaranteed job, one that I don’t have to interview for.

Since Park recently moved to Texas from California, he’d purchased an old Victorian house next to several acres of empty fields. Jace and Park bought the lot next to it to turn into their track. And then the real fun began . . . we sectioned off a couple of acres next to Park’s house to build our own house.

All of these new changes—getting married, the baby, the business, and new house, have been overwhelmingly exciting and surreal. And stressful.

Mostly stressful.

But I’ve survived nearly three years of my new life with Jace so far, and deep down I still love every second of it. So far starting the business has taken longer than they had planned, thanks to paperwork and permits, and hectic construction schedules. When it’s raining, they can’t work on the building. And lately it’s been raining a lot.

Although the most important part of the business is the massive dirt bike track that Park and Jace have designed with bulldozers, we’re also constructing a large building to house their offices, a breakroom, a gym, a main lobby, and a place for teens to sleep during week long summer camp sessions. My favorite part of the building is the kid’s room—a large area with couches and TVs and every awesome toy they sell at Toys R Us. It’s not supposed to be a daycare or anything, just a place for the moms to hang out with their kids. The idea of Jett growing up at his parent’s business always makes me smile. Not only will Jace and I get to work a real job to support our family, we’ll get to do it with our kid there every step of the way.

Speaking of the kid, he tugs on my leggings from his place on the floor. We’re in the child’s room at the track, which is where we’ve been all morning. Jett is already twenty months old and I can’t freaking believe how fast time has flown by since the day he was born on Christmas Eve nearly two years ago.

His little pudgy cheeks smile at me as a line of drool drips down his chin. He chews on a teething toy, alternating between putting it in his mouth and slamming it on the floor. Luckily, I’ve placed a clean baby blanket underneath him so he’s not eating the germs off the concrete floor below us. The real wooden floors are supposed to be installed after we paint the walls. And that’s where my problem is right now.

I put my hands on my hips and take a step backward, looking at the dozen paint swatches I’ve taped to the bare wall. They all have weird names like Meadow Shadows and Crisp Orange and absolutely none of them are calling out to me as the right color choice. I sigh and shake my head. Jett babbles something that I can only pretend is an agreement with me. “I know, little man,” I say, bending down to pick him up. “None of these colors are good enough.”

“Haven’t picked a color yet?”

His voice is like honey and it makes me smile before I even turn around. Jett squeals and cranes his neck to see his daddy from behind my arm. I turn around and make a sarcastic frown. “Nope. I can’t choose.”

Jace smiles, leaning against the doorframe across the room. He’s wearing beat up jeans with black smudges on the knees and a grey undershirt that hugs tightly to his biceps. The sight of him, all covered in sweat and sporting a golden tan from all these weeks in the sun, makes my knees go weak.

“What?” he says. His lips twist into a grin.

I shrug. “Nothing.”

“So,” he says as he steps into the room. “Let’s pick a color.” Jett twists and launches for him but I hold him close.

“Daddy is gross and sweaty, Jett. Trust me, you don’t want to touch him.”

“I’m gross, huh? Maybe I should hug both of you.” He rushes forward, arms spread out wide in the threat of a sweaty, dirty bear hug. Jett and I squeal until the last moment when Jace stops and drops his arms. He leans forward and places a kiss on my forehead and then another one on Jett’s hair. “Just kidding. I really am gross.”

He runs a hand through his sweaty hair and surveys the paint swatches. “How about something grey?”

“This is a kid’s room, not a jail cell,” I say with a snort. “I like blueish or like a sage green.”

“Is blueish a technical paint color term?” he asks, one eyebrow cocked.

I roll my eyes. “Shut up.”

He smiles. “You could paint each wall something different.”

“Eh, that’s tacky.”

“The world of motocross isn’t known for being sophisticated,” he says with a shrug.

“Well, my kid’s play room will be sophisticated. Just like me.” I wink at him and he shakes his head in playful disagreement.

“So I have to get back to work but I came to tell you that the cable guy should be here at some point in the next hour. You just have to let him in, tell him where you want the cable installed and then sign the form.”

My eyes go wide and I give Jett a high five. “We’re getting cable today which means we can get a TV in here now,” I say excitedly. “Finally.”

Since we’ve started building the track, we’ve spent more time here than at our own apartment back home. I was thrilled the day the drywall went up and then again when electricity was installed. Now we have working bathrooms in the main building and it’s basically where I spend my days with Jett.

Down the road, they’ve just poured the concrete for the house we’re building, but it’s still a few months away from being finished. Until then, this kid room is practically my temporary home. And now it’s about to have a TV.

“Yep, I think we should get an Xbox too,” Jace says, giving me that wide smile that means he’s begging for my approval.

“If you want an Xbox, you’ll have to get two TVs,” I say, poking him in the stomach. “I am so behind on all of my shows and I’m not sharing with you.”

He grins. “Two TVs it is. Wanna go shopping tonight?”

“I guess. I’m kind of over shopping after spending all day at the mall with Becca.”

“What’d you get?” It’s a simple question but suddenly my stomach hurts. I think up a quick lie because I can’t exactly tell him I was shopping for a gift to get him.

“Nothing actually. Maybe that’s why it was so boring.”

“Well tonight we’ll make up for it with two new TVs.” His eyes light up. “Ooh! We should stop at that ice cream place, too.”

My lip curls. “I’ve already eaten a ton of calories today.”

He shrugs. “So what? There’s always room for ice cream.”

I roll my eyes but secretly I love how Jace doesn’t seem to care about the fact that eating too much ice cream will make me fat. I’ve been able to coast on the “having a baby” extra weight gain for a while now, but Jett’s almost two years old and there’s really no excuse anymore.

I lean in and give him a quick kiss that tastes salty and just like Jace. I put a hand on his chest and then immediately pull it away because it’s damp with sweat. “Get back to work,” I say. “I’ll see you later.”

“Okay, I love you.” He looks at Jett. “Love you, too.”

#

A knock on the door takes me by surprise. I’d been so caught up in texting Becca pictures of the paint samples on the walls and trying to decide on a color, that I kind of forgot about the cable guy. Jett is asleep in his car seat, which is in the middle of the floor so I walk carefully around him and open the door.

“Hello,” I say, greeting the cable guy.

“Hello, are you Bayleigh Adams?” he asks, reading something from the tablet in his hand. He wears a dark blue polo shirt and black pants. Two boxes of cable supplies rest on the floor at his feet.

“That’s me,” I say, stepping back and letting him inside. “We’re hoping for cable on these two walls,” I tell him, pointing to the walls in question.

“Not a problem,” he says. “I’ll just get started.”

I thank him and head back to the table with my paint swatches and the notebook I’d been using to write down ideas for the business. It’s a little awkward being in the same room with the guy, so I busy myself by playing with my phone. I send a text to Becca asking for her to hurry up and choose a paint color and she immediately replies with something that makes me laugh.

Becca:
I refuse to help. Last time I tried, you lectured me on how purple was a terrible color for a dirt bike track. You’re on your own! Xoxo

“Cute baby,” the cable guy says, nodding toward Jett who now sleeps in his car seat next to me by the table.

“Thanks,” I say, hoping he doesn’t continue. I’m not really good at small talk.

Luckily, he goes back to work, drilling holes in the walls and affixing a cable outlet over it. He installs one cable box and tells me that the other TV will work wirelessly and not need the box. It doesn’t take long before he’s finally done, and now I’m anxious to go get new TVs to try them out.

While we’re at it, we should also get a couch so we won’t be watching television on the floor. Of course, the walls need to be painted and the floor needs to be installed. Building your own business from the ground up is a lot of work and after a few months of this, all I want to do is sit back and relax.

“I think we’re all done here,” the guy says after all of his tools are gathered up. “Can I just get your signature here?” He turns his tablet toward me and I sign with my finger. He takes a step closer to me and it really seems unnecessary. Then I look up and realize he’s giving me this weird grin.

A creepy grin.

“Would you like to text sometime?” he asks, his grin getting wider. “We could trade pics.”

“Um, no thanks,” I say, taking a step backward. Am I imagining this or is he being kind of creepy?

“Aww, come on. It’ll be fun.” He takes a business card from his back pocket and scribbles his phone number on it, then shoves it into my hand. “Text me anytime.”

“No, really. I don’t . . .” I say, but he wraps his hand around mine, and presses the business card to my chest. I try to jerk away but he lets his gross hand linger on mine for an uncomfortable amount of time.

“Just send me whatever pics you’d like,” he says, his voice now low and raspy. “I’d love to see any part of you.”

“Oh my god,” I say as my heart pounds like crazy beneath my ribcage. This guy is a total creeper. “You need to leave.”

His eyes stare straight into mine and I take another step back, only to realize I’ve hit the wall. “What if I don’t want to?”

I swallow. I should scream. But Jace is outside on the tractor probably, and won’t hear me. My phone is on the table which now seems so very far away. I could run to it and threaten to call 911 if he doesn’t leave . . .

But then the door slides open wider and Park enters, his face a pure picture of rage. “You need to get the fuck out of here.”

The guy jumps, clearly startled, and he whirls around to look at Park. “Dude, she came on to me.”

Park’s jaw flinches. “Take a hike.”

With an indignant huff, the cable guy goes to leave. But as soon as he nears Park, Park’s hand flies out, presses against the guy’s shoulder and stops him in his place. Park reads the name embroidered on the guy’s polo shirt. “Ralph Walker. Your supervisor is going to hear about this.” He drops his hand. “Now get the fuck off my property.”

When the guy leaves, I let out the breath I’d been holding. My chest heaves, suddenly needing way more air that I’m getting.

“You okay?” Park says, walking over to me. He takes my arm in one hand and studies me. Only now do I realize how badly I’m shaking.

“Yeah . . .” I say, drawing in a deep breath. “That was just scary.”

Park squeezes my arm. “You’re okay now. And that guy’s boss will rip him a new one after I talk to him.”

I try to smile but it doesn’t come out right. “I just can’t believe he would come on to me like that. I mean, it’s just me.”

Park snorts. “Don’t underestimate yourself. You’re adorable and any guy would find you attractive. But a decent guy wouldn’t fucking act like that.” His jaw clenches and he shakes his head. “He’s lucky Jace didn’t walk in here or he’d be lying unconscious on the floor.”

Now I smile for real. “You’re right about that.”