The bunkhouse hada smell to it. You noticed it first when you opened the door and stepped inside. It was a mixture of hay, dust, and wood with a little old-dishes-soaking-in-the-sink aroma. The main floor held a tiny kitchen with a round table and four chairs surrounding it. There was a small bathroom next to the table, and Stitch’s bed and things were in the corner on the opposite side of the kitchen. My mom had been disappointed when I moved into the bunkhouse with Stitch, my dad’s ranch foreman and retired veterinarian, instead of my old room. She didn’t tell me in so many words, but I could see it in her eyes. I’d be sure to visit her plenty in the house, but I was almost thirty, and the thought of moving back in with my parents was more than my pride could endure.
I didn’t have a problem, however, making myself at home in their kitchen.
My parents and Stitch were gone for the evening, so I grabbed a frozen pizza and made my way back to the bunkhouse.
My parents adopted Stitch a few years back when his wife of fifty-five years passed away, and he couldn’t bear the thought of living in his house without her. They invited him to move into the bunkhouse, and he’s been a part of the family ever since. Against the wall next to the doorway was a staircase leading up to the loft, which had enough room for a queen-size bed, a small closet, and my 65-inch TV I couldn’t bear to part with for the summer. The last person to stay here with Stitch had been Cade, my brother-in-law, three summers ago when he was putting the moves on my sister. After that, it was turned into a storage space until I moved in. I liked to think Stitch appreciated the company.
When the oven dinged exactly seventeen minutes later, I plopped down on my bed in the loft with half of a stuffed-crust pizza piled on a plate on my chest.
Bon appetit.
I flipped the TV station to the Discovery channel, settling in when I caught the beginning of a documentary on the Amazon Rainforest. I was three slices in when a knock at the door sounded—a knock to an annoying tune of something I couldn’t quite place.
Jake.
My first impulse was to hide the pizza, but I knew he would sniff it out in no time. Jake had the appetite of a parched camel. I would have no pizza left by the time he was done here.
“I know you’re in here!” The door flung open, smashing into the wall next to it.
I changed the channel to SportsCenter before raising myself off the bed to look down below, only to find a grinning Jake leaning casually against the doorframe.
“Mmm…has someone been cooking?” Jake leaned closer and sniffed the air. “Is Tessa here?”
“If she was, I’d consider it a date, and you’d owe me. Aren’t you done for the day?”
Jake moved out of my sight and began rummaging around the kitchen before emerging at the top of the stairs with the other half of my pizza on a plate. He flopped onto the other side of my bed. “What are we watching?”
I eyed him as he took a huge bite. “I miss Dusty.”
“Dusty got himself a girlfriend.”
I stopped, mid-chew. “Dusty? Since when?”
“I talked to him a few days ago. He told me it’s been going on since winter.”
“And we’re just hearing about it now?”
“Some people are the worst.”
Not to be dramatic, because Jake would never admit it, but his right arm had been cut off. He and Dusty had been inseparable for years, even working the same job, going to school together, and running in the same rodeo circuit. I would consider Jake and me something like brothers, but Jake was not here lounging on my bed for any other reason than that he was missing his friend.
That was the only reason I let him stay.
“What are we watching?” Jake asked again, taking a sip of a Coke stolen from my fridge.
“SportsCenter.”
Jake looked my way, his brow raised slightly. “Oh. Did you see the big game the other day?”
“No. I’ve been working.”
“Really? Ravens versus Colts? You didn’t see it?”
Ravens and Colts? My eyes narrowed as he stretched casually on the bed, eating my pizza.Mybed. Eatingmypizza. I shifted my shoulders away from him while casually typing out a Google search for the Ravens and Colts before I stopped and pocketed my phone once again.
“Nice try.”
“What?”
