Just Her Luck (13 page)

Wouldn’t be the first time someone had come to that conclusion.

Surely won’t be the last.

"If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, "I said with as much dignity as I possibly could, ignoring Reeve as he tried to think of something he could snap back at me; some snarky, witty comeback that would have me biting my tongue and gritting my teeth, "I have things to do."

Head held high, I marched out of the room and hid in the laundry room, acting like I was busy, when I'm really just hiding out, chicken shit for the moment.

Studying the room as I opened the lid to the washing machine, I had to
wonder if one could just live in here for a while.

"They must think I'm nuts!" I muttered viciously under my breath as I dragged the laundry hamper closer to me and stuffed clothes into the washer.

Forget Reeve being bipolar, maybe it's me!

Putting It All Out On The Line

I finished my load of laundry and started a new one, giving the laundry room a thorough scrub down, top to bottom, thinking of any excuse not to face everyone again just yet.

Cramming my load of wet, freshly washed clothes into a hamper, I lugged them to the lines Bowen and Sawyer had put up with me, giving everything a good shake before I hung them up.

This is kinda therapeutic,
I thought as I flung one of Reeve’s shirts out in front of me.

I’ll just pretend it’s him.

I gave it a vicious shake and grinned evilly.

“Pretendin’ that shirt is someone I know?” Reeve asked out of nowhere.

I screamed and tossed the shirt at him, shocked out of my britches, ready to make a run for it.

Going back to fifth grade for a moment, I wanted to run around screaming ‘Stranger danger! Stranger danger!’

Funny how stress can do that to a person.

The shirt smacked against his head with a squishy ‘splat’, wrapping around his face like an alien face hugger.

“Reeve! You scared the piss outta me! What the hell?”

He pulled his wet shirt off his face and tossed it at me, the wet slap of soaking wet garment echoing in the yard as it hit me squarely in the chest.

Gasping at the cold shock of wetness, I peeled it off of me and threw it down into the dirt, my shirtfront soiled now.

“Isn’t that
my
shirt?” Reeve glowered at me, face wet and slightly pink from his shirt slap, pointing at the offensive piece of clothing accusingly.

“I dunno, why don’t
you
go pick it up and see,” I huffed, walking over to the next open spot on the line.

“You pick it up,” he demanded, taking a step closer to me, his big body towering over mine, face a mask of sneering dislike as he glared at me.

“No. You do it,” I insisted, turning my back on him to pick up another item from the hamper to hang it up.

I gasped as his shirt plopped onto my bent over back and ass, mud and dirt from the offensive shirt now on my jeans, trickling off in a muddy, clumpy mess.

It fell off of me when I shrieked and jackknifed up, squishing it into the wet ground again.

“That was my favorite shirt,” Reeve complained as I purposely looked at him, eyes unwavering as I stepped right on it and stomped right up to him.

“What is your problem? I don’t like you anymore than you like me, but I didn’t intentionally throw it at you. You want a fight, Reeve? Fine, let’s fight,” I said adamantly, warming up to the idea.

I put my hands up in a defensive stance, elbows bent, fists balled up and out in front of me.

He snorted and held me at arm’s length with a hand on the top of my head.

“I’d like to see you try, gremlin.” He grinned unrepentantly, chuckling when I pursed my lips and shoved his hand off.

I hate when he smiles like that!

It lights up his whole face!

No one should be that happy while they're making me miserable!

It just aint kosher, I tell ya!

Grrrr!

I walked back over to the muddy shirt and picked it up, making sure I cupped a clump of mud under it, and threw the whole thing at him.

It hit his head, my aim badly off, and I giggled as it smeared mud on, all over, and down his head, smacking with a ‘thwack’ against him.

I
was
aiming for his chest, but what a happy happenstance!

His face turned crimson, and I ran, my mouth forming a silent ‘O’ as I ducked under the hanging clothes to make a run for it.

Oh, shit. I’m toast!

He bellowed out from somewhere behind me, an angry bull on the rampage, but I was already three lines down, and I crowed victoriously.

“I said we should fight, moonshine, never said I’d fight fair!” I let out a hysterical giggle, tripping myself up as I tried to glance over my shoulder as I ran.

“You better run!” he threatened, “When I get my hands on you…
oomph!
Shit!”

He growled and grunted suddenly.

Too tempted not to, I looked back and laughed, watching as he got caught up in the clothes on the line, tripping himself up.

Stumbling as I tried to keep an eye out behind me and jog at the same time, I righted myself and shook my head, almost taking a similar tumble.

I should have started a fight with him sooner
, I thought distractedly, heading for the tack room, deciding at that moment that it would be my best bet at escape, or find a decent place to hide.
He's a hoot and a half when he's like this!

I totally get his grinning now.

Smiling like an idiot as I ran, I cackled like the wickedest witch in the west, his angry curses and bellows not too far off.

He can't think of any snarky comments when he's chasing after me, now can he?

My smile got wider, and just to piss him off, I laughed louder.

His answering bellow was music to my ears.

Mwahahaha!

Oh, yeah!

Uh-huh!

I'm bad!

I took a few seconds to stop and gyrate to my little mental victory song, feeling confident enough to do so, shaking my ample money maker, swinging my arms in the air like a deranged hula dancer, letting my jiggles wiggle.

But the sound of him charging towards me had me snapping out of it and springing back into action.

There’ll be time for that later.

Picking up my pace, but still just under a full-out run-
I have frickin’ asthma and I’m no fool. I know my limits
- I raced the rest of the way, not too sure how much time I had before he caught up to me.

Skidding around the corner, I yelped and almost missed the door in my mad dash.

The tack room was technically one of their old empty barns, only part of it containing horse thingamabobs, the rest a sort of large storage area or catch-all for everything else.

In other words, a 'crap' room.

I ducked under a high table off to the side, shoving boxes in front of me to help me hide.

Reeve cussed and cursed right outside the door, his loud caterwauling and heavy boot stomps signaling his arrival.

"I know you're in here!" he growled angrily, "I'm going to tan your ass when I get a hold of you!"

I grinned, loving the view from the safety of my hiding spot.

Is it wrong that I think he's cute when he's mad?

Maybe,
but it didn’t stop me from looking.

He had mud caked all over him, his hair full of clumps of grass and dirt from when he fell and face planted a little bit ago.

Cute and dirty.
I snickered silently at my sick thoughts.

There is definitely something wrong with me if Reeve Harrison pissed off, covered in mud and threatening to tan my hide, is giving me a fit of the vapors.

Looks like a sexy mud monster,
I thought and snorted.

Reeve looked over towards my corner sharply, his good eye searching me out, looking for any sign of me.

"Let's just get this out there, so we can both say it’s been said. I don't want you here and you don't
really
want to be here."

He has a point, sort of, but this place is beginning to grow on me, so to speak.

Not that I'd say that out loud or anything.

"The only reason I haven't booted your generous behind off of my property is because I promised your Aunt Ruthie I wouldn't," he continued.

She made him promise to let me stay?

Wait. This is Ruthie we’re talking about, so…

Yep, that sounds about right.

Smart of her too, if you think about it.

How else could she get him to let someone fill in for her?

But I don't think she’d contemplated him torturing her replacement.

My eyes narrowed as I sat hunched down.

Or did she?

Hmm.

Thinking back on the most recent developments as of late, I'm beginning to understand why she picked me.

I'm probably the only person she could think of that might actually find him entertaining long enough to stay on for a while and not run away screaming and crying.

Reeve jumped suddenly, startling the shit out of me, and grabbed at a box, lifting it up, frowning when he saw I wasn't there, jaw clenched as he glared at the empty spot.

Oohhh, someone's maaaaddd.

I covered my mouth to stifle another snicker.

"You can't hide in here forever, you know," he taunted, walking right by me, water and mud trailing behind him in his wet, squishy wake.

Beyond entertained, I grinned and hugged my knees.

But I can for a while,
I sing song-ed in my head.

"Reeve! You out here?" someone called, sounding like it was from a distance.

Reeve froze and scanned the area one last time, then glanced at the open door.

"If you thought the idea of prison was scary, just wait until I get my hands on you," he promised darkly and stomped from the room.

I waited a good twenty minutes before I crawled out and climbed the ladder to the second story loft, peeking out a window to see where my big muddy pervert had gone off too.

Reeve was standing under a copse of trees, talking to someone in a truck with crates in the back.

He was staring straight at the big tack room, eyeing it balefully.

I fist pumped the air at my forethought.

Go me!

Glancing around, I looked for an alternate exit route.

"Ah ha!" I whispered, grinning when I pushed on the window on the opposite wall.

It opened on the first try, and I pushed it all the way open.

The tree that butted up against the side was perfect for scaling down, and I carefully maneuvered my way onto it, mindful to make sure my grip was firm.

I hummed the theme to mission impossible as I quietly climbed down the sturdy oak, stopping half way to survey the bottom.

Good thing they hadn’t planted some twiggy little tree right here or I’d have had to make a run for it and risked him catching me.

Don’t know that I really want to find out if he’d make good on his promise.

I resisted the urge to clench my butt cheeks and cringe, but just barely.

When I got close enough to the ground, I hopped down, bending my knees to cushion the impact.

Safely on the ground now, I stood up to my full height and bent at the waist, bowing to my invisible audience enthusiastically.

"Thank you, a thank you," I whispered emphatically, “you are all too kind.”

Reeve's voice started to carry towards me from the opposite side of the tack room, getting louder and closer, so I took off, heading off towards the pond a little ways down on the opposite side of the Harrison property.

I can just hide out there
, I decided and disappeared into a wheat field.

I’m sure he’ll get over it, uh, soon, uh, ish.

Hmmm.

Now, why did that not sound convincing?

Dippin’ In

"I figured you'd be here," Sawyer said from behind me, sitting down beside me.

Of course he would, he's the one who showed me this spot in the first place.

He shucked his boots and socks, placing his feet beside mine in the water.

"How do you figure that?" I asked, pretending otherwise, playing with a piece of wheat.

He pulled a bit of greenery from my hair and chuckled at me, tossing it off to his side.

"Reeve came home hissing and spitting mad, your name the first thing on his lips whenever someone asks him what happened."