Coming Home to the Mountain: Complete Edition

2. Hank

CHAPTER 2

Hank

F ig Rough was the cutest thing at Home High. She blossomed into a woman before my eyes, and really came out of her shell over the course of her first year there.

She was always a smart type, and was the kind of person who got along with both the jocks and the nerds.

I would have asked her out in a second back in the day, but there was one thing stopping me.

She was a sophomore, and I was a senior.

And I always thought that was kind of skeevy. I gave the other seniors shit for dating someone so much younger than them, but I guess when I saw Fig I understood just a little bit.

But I held to my principles. She was three years younger than me, and the gulf between fifteen and eighteen is vast. I was ashamed of my crush, so much so that I never told anyone about it.

I didn’t expect to see her here today. The last time Reuben mentioned her, she was off at college, preparing for a big, exciting life in fashion design, and I just assumed a girl like her could have any guy she wanted anyway. The ship had sailed, and I didn’t expect to see her again.

Now?

I’m literally sitting across from my longtime crush.

“You alright there, Hank?” Reuben asks, slapping me on the back.

“Yeah, man, I’m fine.”

I don’t know how true that statement is. I’m trying not to stare, but Fig is fucking hot. More than she was in high school. She’s a bit more seasoned now, and more fashionable too. I guess that’s to be expected with a literal degree in fashion.

She has the cutest pair of glasses on, and I’m trying my damnedest not to even look at the rest of her below the neck. Still, I can’t help noticing her curves, and the swell of her breasts when she inhales. Something about her figure suggests wide, sexy hips, even looking at her from the waist up.

Fig’s as flustered as I am, distracted and not really paying attention to anyone else at the table.

“So what brings you to dinner tonight, Hank?” the Rough patriarch asks me, stroking his beard.

“Uh, just transferred back into Home. Spent a few years over in Spokane.”

“Pardon an old man’s memory, but it’s hard to keep track of all my children’s friends. What is it that you do again?”

“I’m a firefighter, sir.”

Redford Rough laughs. “They got you trained well, don’t they? If you wouldn’t mind, don’t call me sir. Makes me feel old.”

“I don’t know,” his wife says with a smile. “It makes you seem distinguished. Sir Redford Rough. Almost like you’ve been knighted.”

“Where on earth am I going to keep the armor and sword, Anise? Let alone the horse.”

“Red, being a knight in the twenty-first century doesn’t mean…” Mama Rough turns pink laughing, as do some of the other family members.

“So you’re the new Home firefighter after Jerome retired?” Bartlett asks. “They’ve been on about being understaffed for a while. Even though Home’s been blessed to be mostly fire free, I can see it being stressful. Even if it’s just taking care of a bunch of cats stuck in trees.”

“It’s scheduling, Bart,” I reply with a chuckle. “Even a small department like this needs two or three people on duty for emergencies, and when we’re bored, it’s a good day. They need me so they can spend less time at the firehouse and more time at home with their families.”

“I see.” Bart sips some of his wine. “Well, here’s hoping none of us have to see you in a professional sense then, Hank.”

My focus remains on Fig. “I’m led to believe that Fig here just got back too?”

“Yes,” she says, more meek than I remember her being.

“Fresh out of Paris, after four years in Los Angeles,” Lemon says. “Who knows where she’s off to next on her wonderful world of adventures.”

“Wasn’t some of your studying in California an apprenticeship?” a man in a suit says, and I deduce he’s Lemon’s husband. “You’ve gotta have a job lined up from that.”

“Maybe she wants to go to New York,” Mac chimes in. “Or Chicago. You gotta go to a big city to really make it in fashion I think. Not much demand for such a thing in Home.”

Well, that would suck. To come home to find the most beautiful woman on the planet only for her to run off to some big city.

“Wherever she goes, I’m so proud of her,” Mama Rough says. “She’s a brilliant thinker and I can’t wait to see what she’s going to come up with. She’s going to make the Rough name world famous, I bet.”

Fig turns an embarrassed shade of red. Everyone keeps talking her up, telling her of their high expectations, making their guesses about where she’ll end up. Everything from going back to Paris to doing something original and unique in Tokyo. Like they’re trying to load her with some of their own scattered hopes and dreams.

A room full of people talking about her, and all Fig does is sit quietly. I worry about her, but I can’t say I’m innocent of having a dream for her myself. I want her to stay right here in Home.

Dinner is served and eaten, and it’s as fantastic as I expected. Being a guest at the Rough house means never leaving hungry.

“Pardon me,” Fig says, sliding out from the table. “I uh… gotta go to the little girl’s room.”

The way she says it isn’t very convincing.

She heads up the stairs and I watch her go, unable to take my eyes off the sway in her hips, and that delectable ass her dress hides.

The gulf between an eighteen-year-old and fifteen-year-old is vast, yes. But the difference between a twenty-six-year-old and a twenty-three-year-old?

Yeah, that’s a whole other thing. Maybe I should make my move before it’s too late.

“Pardon me as well, I think Fig’s got the right idea,” I say, sliding out.

“You remember where the bathrooms are?” Reuben asks.

“Oh yeah, I’m good, man. Thanks.”

I head up the stairs, trying to listen for her footsteps over the cacophony of the discussion below.

A lot easier said than done, I know.