Beneath Dark Skies (Rolling Hills Ranch #1)

19. Kenji

NINETEEN

KENJI

THE COWBOY BOOTS

Day 408

“What are those?” I demand, my tone a mix of curiosity and suspicion, prompting Jay to raise both hands in a gesture of his innocence.

It’s been about two weeks since I’ve started working alongside Mr. Abel’s grandson, tending to the cattle, with the guys and I getting our weapons back just the other day–finally. If you had asked me during my time as a firefighter or in the years following whether I could envision myself on a farm in the future, the answer would have been a hard, resounding no. Yet, something about Rolling Hills speaks to me in ways I never thought possible. The land's rugged beauty, the honest hard work of caring for the cattle, and the people that surround me each day – it’s a world apart from what I once knew.

Surprisingly, I feel as though I’m finding solace in the daily grind of farm life. The physical labor and the simplicity of routine are both reminiscent of my time as a firefighter, and it’s a welcome change from the chaos and uncertainty of what they guys and I were doing before we made our way here.

Working alongside Jay has been a surprising revelation. The biggest surprise is just how comfortable I find myself feeling around him and how much I genuinely seem to enjoy working with him. I never had many friends outside of Theo and Adrian, but Jay is different. He respects my space without prying too much but still manages to make me feel welcome and respected. He’s quiet, someone who seems to take in everything around them and doesn’t miss a thing. When he does ask questions, he does so respectfully, and I understand his need to know who he’s working with. It's not exactly like I have a sunny disposition going for me.

We’re in Abel's pasture, preparing for the day, when I hear that thud and look down to notice the offending object Jay has placed beside me–a pair of worn black cowboy boots. They’re fine, but I don’t see why I can’t wear my regular combat boots. Sure, mine have a few holes, but a little duct tape always does the trick. Another lesson from my time in foster care: you learn to take care of your belongings and make do with what you have. Nothing is ever really free; everything has a cost.

This is why I find myself scrutinizing the boots on the floor next to me and the man who dropped them there.

“Now, I don't know how you city folk do it, but out here, we wear cowboy boots to get the job done,” Jay said, his tone serious despite the subtle upturn of his lips.

“You’re shitting me?” I exclaim, picking up the boots. Cowboy boots? Seriously? “That's the most backward thing I've ever heard.” Jay just shrugs in response.

“I'm telling you, if you're going to be hauling hay and tending to the herd, you need to wear these. Size thirteen, right?”

My eyes narrow as I continue to look at him, taking in his neutral expression even under my gaze. How did he know my size? And why is he so insistent?

“Trust me, Kenji, if you don’t wear these now, Henry and my Granddad will harp on ‘ya soon enough.”

Damn it. I honestly cannot tell if he’s joking or not. Jay always has a poker face, even when he’s not being serious, making it hard to discern his intentions. Reluctantly, I pull on the boots, not wanting to offend Mr. Abel or Jay, who has been nothing but kind to me since my arrival. The boots fit perfectly, slightly worn so they’re not rubbing the wrong way. They look and feel like they're well-loved, making me wonder just whose damn boots were now on my feet.

As I glance down at my appearance, I realize I look like a bona fide cowboy. Jay has been helping to fill my closet with nothing but tight jeans and plain tees, and now, with the addition of cowboy boots, I may as well be ready for the rodeo. All I need is a giant belt buckle and a cowboy hat. Yeehaw.

Jay slaps me on the shoulder, and I follow him out. Today, we have to ensure the horses' enclosure is safe and get to milking some of the cows. As we make our way outside and get to work, the sun catches and reflects off his deep, rich ebony skin, highlighting the contours of his face and the strength in his build. While my physique was built in the fire station gym before the outbreak and maintained by working out however I can since then, Jay’s has clearly been built through years of hard work on the farm. It makes me respect him even more.

I had never minded the outdoors before everything happened, but being constantly on the move for a year and a half was no picnic. We were always scavenging, always on edge. Life here in Rolling Hills may not be easy, but it’s definitely easier. In the grand scheme of the apocalypse, it seems as close to bliss as I can imagine. I honestly don’t think I could have asked for anything better, even with the wild-haired minx haunting my dreams every night.

I hear the rhythmic thud of hooves in the distance and glance up from the fence post we’re fixing to spot Trevor doing a perimeter check. A breathy chuckle escapes me at the sight of Trevor on his horse, holding a rake in his right hand. I’ve seen the guy a few times, and that rake has never left his side.

Jay looks, following my gaze to see what’s caught my attention, and shakes his head.

“Don’t like Trevor much?” Jay asks. I could swear I hear humor in his voice, but, as usual, his face gives nothing away.

The answer is no, I don’t. I get the sense that Jay feels the same, but given that he’s known Trevor his whole life and is Todd’s best friend, I feel like I should tread carefully.

“I don't really know him, but our few interactions weren't pleasant. He seems to tend to talk down on people, and I don't take kindly to that.” I say with an edge to my voice. I respect people until they do something to make that respect unwarranted, but something about Trevor rubs me the wrong way. Since day one, he has been hostile, constantly trying to cozy up to Farron, who seems to want nothing to do with him while glaring daggers at Adrian and me. He also barely acknowledged Theo when he was mentioned in conversation, and he even ignored him when Theo finally made his way out of the Hill home. So no, I didn’t particularly care for him.

There is something else, though, something more than just his abrasive personality and the rake he clings to. A sense of unease crawls up my spine every time he’s around like he’s up to no good. I don’t know what it is or what his motives are. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but something about him is off.

“Don’t tell Todd I said this, but I can’t stand Trevor. Always sticking his nose where it doesn't belong or trying to take charge for no reason. It was one thing when we were kids, and he was always butting into things, but we’re adults now.” Jay remarks, hammering in a final nail. “My advice? Just try to steer clear of him. He’s got eyes for Farron, no matter how much that woman wants to claw them out of his head, and I know he’s not too thrilled about you guys being around her.”

He says this as though I have any choice in the matter.

Truth be told, I don’t dislike Farron. I'd go as far as to say she's growing on me a bit, like a weed in the crack of a sidewalk. It's not like she’s talked to me much, but I see her around. She thinks she’s clever and sneaky, but she’s about as subtle as an elephant. She's been spying on us since our arrival, always lurking behind doors or popping up at the most unexpected times, always shooting daggers my way. If she keeps it up, I might have to give her a few pointers because her current espionage game leaves much to be desired.

Oddly enough, there’s something about it that’s deeply satisfying to me. She cares enough about the well-being of her family and the people around her to keep up this ridiculous spy charade. I respect that. Family is the most important thing to me and the guys, and seeing the way she’s trying to protect her family is admirable, even if there’s nothing to protect it from when it comes to us.

Plus, it doesn’t hurt that Theo recounts every single day he spends with her to Adrian and me, stars in his eyes. Through him, I’ve inadvertently learned more about her than she knows. I know her favorite color is burgundy, she always dreamed of being a vet, and she misses going to the movies more than anything else from before. And then there are things I've picked up just from observing her. Like how she dislikes tomatoes, pushing them around on her plate for the entire meal, but ends up eating them anyway because, well, food is food. Or how she carries a burden of guilt, though the specifics elude me. I overheard her speaking to Nessie in the barn the other day.

“I just don’t know how to move on. It feels like it’s eating me alive most days.”

I wince as a pang of guilt shoots through me at having eavesdropped, but when Farron speaks, it's like time stands still. Her raspy, silky voice draws me in, and I find myself hanging on to every word she says, even if it isn’t directed at me. Which it usually isn’t unless she’s being snippy with me after I’ve made some sort of equally snippy remark first. So, again…fair. I just can’t help myself with her. Riling her up is far too fun, and I love the back and forth, always wanting more of her sass.

She’s beautiful–that much is evident to any man or woman that’s ever laid their eyes on her. And that wild hair of hers drives me crazy sometimes, the way she always has a few wayward curls escaping and falling into her face. I can’t stop myself from sometimes imagining my fist in her hair, pulling taut against her scalp, or wrapping it around my fist as I kiss her neck and across her collarbones.

These sorts of thoughts are intrusive little fuckers. I can’t afford to get distracted or cause trouble here, and I especially can’t afford to get lost in her when my brothers are both obsessed. Nothing gets in between us, especially not a woman. Most definitely not a woman with shadows in her eyes and secrets in her heart.

My thoughts are abruptly shattered by shouting and an alarm going off. Jay and I exchange a glance before Trevor's panicked voice pierces the air, warning of two incoming infected. Jay springs into action without hesitating, darting toward the barn and mounting his horse with lightning speed.

“Jay!” I call out, but he doesn’t acknowledge me, his expression wrought with fear as he moves forward. I follow suit, scrambling to the nearest stall and jumping on the first horse before galloping after him.

As I race off after Jay, my mind begins to race with questions. If there are only two infected, why the urgent shouts from Trevor? When the guys and I were on the move, handling a dozen of them at once was routine. Trevor’s incompetence grates on me as I move forward, making me grind my teeth at the fact that he seems incapable of handling even the smallest of threats on his own. What a treasure to this community.

I approach them and see that Jay has already handled the situation, his chest heaving as he holds a hatchet covered in that putrid blood that can only come from the infected. Glancing at Trevor, I notice his rake is clean, untouched by any action. I dismount my horse and march up to Trevor, seizing his shirt in a firm grip and pulling him towards me. “What’s the point of you being on watch if you can’t handle two dead on your own, huh?” I snarl, jostling him with a rough shake, relishing in the fear that flickers in his eyes. Good.

“Kenji. Kenji! Come on, let him go.” Jay urges, shaking my shoulder. The tremor in his voice breaks through me, and reluctantly, I release my grip on Trevor and shove him away.

“What’s your problem?” Trevor shouts, getting into my face.

I huff out a laugh and cross my arms. “Now you want to act tough? Where was this tough guy schtick two minutes ago?” I cock my head to the side, my irritation evident.

Trevor is fuming, his voice shaky and face red, when he responds, “There were two, okay? It's better to handle them one-on-one.”

I cannot believe what I’m hearing. This guy has to be joking.

“And yet you didn’t handle either of them,” I growl out.

Trevor looks over at Jay for support, but Jay looks distraught, and his distress is now causing me concern. Without giving Trevor a chance to respond, I turn my back on him to ask Jay if he’s alright.

He lets out a sharp breath, muttering “Fine,” and climbs back onto his horse. “Let's just get out of here. Trevor, handle this,” Jay orders before riding off.

Following Jay back to the barn, I return the horse to its stall and find Jay fixing the ropes hung on the wall. His back is tense, his jaw clenched.

“Are you okay? Were you bitten?” I inquire. I hate to ask, but he’s acting strange, and you can never be too safe.

“No, I wasn't bitten,” Jay replies curtly, the tension in his voice evident. He aggressively throws the rope through another rung.

Relief washes over me at the assurance that he’s okay, but it’s still apparent that something is off. Why is he so mad? Part of me thinks it’s because of Trevor, but I have to assume he pulls shit like that more often than not. And Jay doesn’t strike me as the type of man to be so riled up over an idiot like that.

“Then what's bothering you? Why did you rush out there like there was a fire?”

Jay stops what he was doing and turns to me, exhaling heavily. “I was making sure it wasn't my mom.”