The ride home was just as quiet as the drive to the mountains, but this time it was a quiet that weighed heavily on me. I was embarrassed to find myself in this situation, yet again. When I was around Jake, I lost my ability to think clearly. It was as though my mind was clouded with smoke, the vapor just as thick as the kind that nearly suffocated during the fire.

Jake was engrossed to me, too, that much I knew. Otherwise, he wouldn't have initiated the kiss in the back of his truck. But what Jake's body implied, and what his mouth said were two different things, and I wasn't sure which one to believe. He was a torn man who was sending me mixed messages. I tried to be understanding of whatever internal struggle he was enduring, but all he was doing was confusing my feelings even further. 

When Jake and I were together, all I could think about was touching him, feeling his lips on my body, or as appalled as I was to admit it, the idea of having him inside of me. Deep down, I knew that Jake wouldn't want anything more than whatever this was. He only wanted to be friends. But my ability to ascertain this seemed to go out the window when he was sitting next to me.

I fought back to the tears in his eyes and how he'd pulled at his hair in frustration after our kiss. I could see the remorse in his deep, brown eyes the moment he pulled away from me, like he felt an immense amount of guilt for what had happened between us. The fact that he regretted kissing me felt like a punch in the gut.

Jake dropped me off at the hotel with a muffled goodbye before driving away. Once I got to my room, I collapsed on the bed with a heavy sigh, my mind replaying the night's events over and over. After several hours of restlessness, I finally dozed off. Despite my uneasy stomach and wounded pride, I slept better than I had in several days.

I was still lost in unconscious bliss, when I heard a loud banging resonating through the hotel room, causing me to jerk awake in a panic. Harley growled, and the hair on the scruff of his neck was raised. My first instinct was to grab the pepper spray on my keyring.

The pounding on the door continued, getting progressively louder with each bang. My heart raced as I tiptoed to the door and peered through the peephole. A gruff, middle-aged woman with graying hair stood on the other side, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Who is it?" I called, holding my pepper spray at the ready. I meant to sound assertive, but my voice was heavy with sleep and cracked midway through the sentence.

"Hotel management. This is a courtesy reminder that check out is in thirty minutes," she said.

This had my attention. I dropped the arm holding the pepper spray and opened the door a crack so I could talk with the woman unhindered.

"I'm sorry, but there's been some sort of mix-up. I wasn't planning on leaving today," I said. 

"There's no mix-up. You've been booking the room from week to week. Your most recent week is up, and you haven't renewed your reservation," she said. The exasperation was evident on her face.

"Oh, I'm sorry about that," I apologized. It must have slipped my mind with everything I had going on with Jake. "I would like to go ahead and renew the room for another week, then."

"No can do," the woman said. "There's a rodeo convention in town, and all of the rooms are booked up for the next three weeks."

"What?" I asked, my eyes widening in alarm. "What am I supposed to do? My house burned down in the fires a couple of weeks ago, and this is the closest hotel for miles. I have nowhere else to go."

I felt the heaviness of that statement pressing on my chest.

"Not my problem," the woman said brusquely. "We need you to be out of here by eleven, or I'll have no choice but to call the sheriff's department to escort you off the premises."

The woman walked away. I was left staring after her, my mouth open in shock. Where was this woman's compassion? I know she had a business to run, but she didn't have to be so rude about it.

I closed the hotel door a little harder than I meant to and jarred the paintings on the walls. I had so much aggression built up that angry tears started to form. It felt like nothing could go right in my life lately.

Harley sensed my irritation and came over to nuzzle my leg, as though to tell me that everything would be okay. I patted him and smiled, thanking him for his optimism, but I wasn't sure how everything would be okay when I had nowhere else to go. I chastised myself for not taking my house hunting more seriously.

I began tossing my laptop, personal belongings, and Harley's possessions into a bag, my blood still boiling as I thought about the ill-mannered hotel manager. I stuffed my clothes into a grocery sack without bothering to fold them; wrinkles were the least of my concerns at the moment. It didn't take me long to pack, given my sparse belongings. I left the room with five minutes left to spare.

As I checked out of the hotel, the manager continued to glare at me. I could see her snarling her nose in disgust as she took in my possessions, which had been thrown together in a rush. I wasn't normally a violent person, but at that moment, I wanted to punch the woman right in her judgmental face.  

After I closed my reservation, I sat in my SUV with the AC on full blast, staring at the California skyline, and contemplating my options. The issue with being a recluse was that you had no one to call when you were out on the street. It was times like this that I wished I had more friends or immediate family.

With a sigh, I took out my phone and scrolled through my contacts, which were far and few between. Most of the names in my phone were clients and colleagues that I had met in the architecture business, not the sort of people you called in a personal crisis.

As I scrolled, my finger hovered over a familiar name. I stared at the contact, my hand quivering with anxiety. I shook my head, thinking that I would rather live in my car than to call him right now. But I knew deep down that I didn't have another option. He was the only person I knew who could come to my rescue once again.

                       * * * * * * * * * *

I went back and forth for an hour before finally mustering the courage to dial Jake's number. Even then, I only did so because the hotel manager was giving me dirty looks out of her office window, and I was afraid she would call the police if I didn't figure something out.

I felt my face heat in embarrassment as the familiar pickup pulled into the hotel parking lot. Jake, being the kind man that he was, had been more than happy to let me come stay with him until I could find a place of my own. Though I was hesitant, I wasn't sure what other choice I had but to take him up on the offer.

I pulled out of the parking lot, grateful to have the hotel and its obscene manager in my rearview mirror. I followed Jake's pickup through the city of Chico, to a neighborhood on the other side of town.

We pulled into the driveway of a small house with a white picket fence around the front. The only thought that ran through my mind was that the house was perfect. Considering I am a perfectionist in my field, that was saying something. For ten years, I'd been designing some of the highest quality, most innovative industrial buildings for some of the biggest companies in the world. My expertise ranged from soaring skyscrapers with architectural feats to mansions with the most advanced technology available. 

Jake's house was neither of those things. The little home was only two stories but was very quaint. It was small and simple, but perfectly so. The tan, stone siding contrasted well with the light teal shutters. It had a welcoming feel, with planter boxes full of daises beneath the windowsills, and a garden flag that said "Lucero" in large, looped lettering. The house was no high-rise in the city, but I think that's was why I loved it so much.

I put my car in park, and Jake came to my door to help with my bags. Now that my frustration had ebbed, I was acutely embarrassed about the way I had packed. Jake hardly seemed to notice my bra and underwear hanging disorderly out of the grocery sack as he carried my stuff to the porch, but I was mortified. 

When Jake opened the front door, I was even more impressed by the inside of the house. The back wall of the living room was vibrant and airy, with an entire wall of windows that let the bright sunlight in. The kitchen was large and spacious, with farmhouse décor that made the outdated appliances almost unnoticeable.

What fascinated me the most about the house was the elaborate handrail that led to the second floor. Small, intricate designs had been chiseled into the wooden banister with great detail. This was no standard handrail, but something unique that had taken a lot of time and love to create.

Most prominent of the markings were the large flowers with multiple petals. I smiled as I recognized them as dahlias. They are the national flower of Mexico and were always my mother's favorite blossom. She grew droves of them each year, determined to bring as much of her native country into our home as she was able to. I couldn't help but think of her as my fingers glided along the ornate carvings, captivated by the work of art.

"It took me three months, but I think it turned out pretty good," Jake said, his eyes trained on me as I examined the banister.

"You made this yourself?" I asked, my mouth dropping open in awe.

"Many years ago, when I first bought the house. It was supposed to be a gift for someone, but things didn't work out the way I had planned," he said. His eyes drifted to some faraway place, and his eyebrows furrowed together, troubled.

"Well, it's beautiful," I said, rubbing my hands along the railing once more. "I should hire you to do some of the contract work in my buildings."

Jake let out a small laugh. "I'm not sure it's that good."

"Don't underestimate yourself. This is amazing." I smiled as a rosy hue filled his cheeks.

"How about I show you where you'll be staying?" he said, eager to change the subject.

I followed him upstairs to the second floor and then to the end of a long hallway. 

"This is the guest bedroom," he said, opening the furthest door.

The room was homey and modest. The walls were painted a soft green and had abstract paintings on each wall, adding lively color to the room. There were white lace curtains on the windows, which contrasted against the green walls. The queen bed had a white, plush duvet, and an abundance of decorative pillows. The large bay window let in the mid-morning sun and had a perfect sightline of Bidwell Park. In front of the window was a desk with a black swivel chair.

"Thanks again for doing this," I mumbled, as Jake set my luggage on the downy bedding.

"Cat, you've thanked me a dozen times. It really is no problem. You can stay here as long as you want," he said. "I'll leave and let you get some rest, but if you need anything at all, my bedroom is right here." He gestured to the door next to mine.

I thanked him for the millionth time. He shook his head, stifling a laugh, before leaving the room. I wasn't sure what good deed I had done for destiny to bring a kind man like Jake into my life, but I was thankful that it did. It was strange being the guest of a man I barely knew, but I didn't find myself uncomfortable. On the contrary, I had never felt more relaxed in someone else's house. I made myself right at home as I stretched out on the soft mattress, cozying up with Harley.

I was exhausted from the emotions of such a long and stressful day and could feel my eyes drifting already. The last thought that crossed my mind before fading into unconsciousness was that this made twice now that Jake Lucero had saved me. I wasn't sure how I could ever repay him for everything he had done for me, but I was determined to try.

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© Dawn Norwell