Coming Home to the Mountain: Complete Edition

4. Hank

CHAPTER 4

Hank

H er room has a certain charm to it. It’s definitely the room of someone who is creative.

I go over and sit down on her couch beside her.

“What do you mean, you always noticed me?”

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that something is seriously bothering this woman. “Just saying. I’ve paid attention to you. Even when I probably shouldn’t have.”

She giggles. “What, do you mean back in high school?”

“I saw that you were a gorgeous, funny, and clever girl. And I have every reason to believe that you’re still those things. You’re definitely still the first, I can tell that by looking at you.”

She averts her eyes, quite red in the cheeks. “I’d like to think I’m the second and third too, but I guess that’s all in the eye of the beholder or however that goes.”

“True, but I think the only opinions that matter are mine and yours. And I’ve always had a bit of a crush on you, Fig.”

“A crush on me? I thought it was the other way around.”

I laugh. “I guess it was a bit different for me. I felt bad about crushing on my friend’s underaged sister, while you didn’t have to worry about that.”

“I guess you never made a move because you thought it’d be wrong? And maybe it would have been. But I’m not underaged anymore, Hank.”

She flutters her eyelashes. Damn, she can get to what she wants quick. As if I needed another reason to crush on her so much.

I didn’t really expect to come up here to put the moves on her. It was legitimate concern about her well-being that brought me up here. I was going to save the sweet moves until I knew she was of the right mind.

But I didn’t expect her to start suggesting things to me.

She's looming close to me as we’re close on her sofa. Her hand on my thigh, and mine on hers, definitely suggesting much more.

We’re inching closer and closer. Something’s bound to happen, given we’re up here alone and we don’t have a lot of reason to stop.

“Aunt Fig? Aunt Fig, are you up here?”

Except, possibly, a child watching. That’s a pretty good reason to stop doing what we’re doing.

She pops her little head up, only the top of her hair showing above the opening. “Aunt Fig! Grandmama says she wants you downstairs for the pie she made for you! She says it’s super-duper important!”

“Uh, thank you, Plum. I’ll be right down,” Fig says, grinning nervously and pushing a stand of hair out of her face.

“You should come down too, Mr. Hank! There’s plenty of pie for everyone!”

“I’d love some pie. We should go get pie, Fig,” I say, a huge smile on my face. It’s not like the mood will return once the five-year-old is out of sight.

Plum scurries down, and Fig stands up, going over to the closet and putting the dress she’s holding away. I sheepishly go behind her and slink down the ladder. We were going way too fast, I realize. Yeah, I’ve always had a crush on her, and apparently she’s always had a crush on me, but going right to making out an hour after reconnecting with one another seems a tad extreme.

I let her get downstairs ahead of me. One, because I don’t know if it’s the best time to be suggesting something’s going on between us just yet, and two, because that tension with her just now is more than enough to have gotten me rock fucking hard with thoughts of doing a whole lot more with her.

I head to the bathroom. I don’t jack off, although with how my imagination is running, God damn is it tempting. Just taking care of my other needs and washing my hands is enough so I’m not pitching a tent in my jeans and being afraid of turning suddenly and knocking something over.

The discussion is lively around the kitchen table, slices of pie in various stages of eaten on everyone’s plates.

“Finally got back, eh? What was keeping you?” Reuben asks with a sly grin as I sit down and a slice of pie is set in front of me.

“Uh, I had to discuss something with someone,” I smile, not lying. “On the phone,” I add, definitely lying.

Fig is on the other side of the table, oh so bashful, not exactly itching to go and rat me out.

“So, where are you staying, Hank?” Rye says. “Still with your folks?”

“For now, yeah. But I got enough squirreled away that I can get my own place easily enough.”

“You need to hire the Rough and Ready Construction Company to build something to your exact specifications?”

I shake my head. “If I had time to wait, maybe I would. And maybe I will, down the road. My mother has turned my old room into her own personal library. For the sake of having some personal space, I need a place of my own, and I need it sooner rather than later.”

“That’s a damn shame.”

Reuben raises an eyebrow. “You hitting my friend up with a business proposition at the table?”

“What?” Rye shrugs from the accusation. “He needs a place to live, we could always use more work. It’s win-win, Reuben.”

“He’s an old friend, not a customer, Rye.”

“We’d give him a healthy discount!”

I shake my head and finish my slice of pie. Mama Rough has once again delivered and surprised me with how good it is.

I look across to Fig. She’s still nervous as hell, and I wonder if I’m adding to it. She’s dealing with something, that much I know, and maybe my presence is making things more difficult.

“Well then,” I declare. “It was wonderful as always, Roughs. I’m very grateful that you’ve had me over, but I need to get home and get plenty of sleep. I have a lot of houses to go and look at tomorrow.”

“Always a joy to have you, Hank,” Papa Rough says with a smile.

“Yes, you can come by anytime,” Mama Rough adds. “I always make more than enough.”

“Gotta always over-prepare for guests, huh?” Lemon chuckles.

I turn and head for the door, looking at Fig one last time. Maybe she can get her thoughts together. I’m not a hard guy to find, and I’m sure Reuben would connect us if either of us asked. I’m just giving her time to think. To deal with whatever’s bothering her.

As I open my truck door, the front door to the Rough house swings open, and Fig runs out with my jacket in her hands.

It did seem a tad colder than it was when I arrived, but I guess Fig isn’t the only one with way too much on her mind.

“Don’t forget your jacket,” she says, presenting the coat to me.

“Thank you,” I reply. I take a deep breath, her right in front of me. She makes me feel so awkward. Usually I’m super confident and upfront with any girl I feel something for, but Fig is different. In so many ways.

“Take care,” she says, ready to turn and leave me.

“Hey, Fig,” I say, getting a hold of myself. “What are you up to tomorrow?”

“Uh… I’m not sure. I didn’t have any plans for when I got back. I guess right now, I got ‘vegging out in front of a computer’ penciled in on my agenda tomorrow.”

“You up for tagging along with me as I look for a place to live? Could use some feminine insight if you know what I mean.”

She sucks in a breath, and takes her time replying. “Um… uh… sure! I’ll come along. What time is your first appointment?”

“Twelve thirty. I can come by and pick you up at about noon, if that’s okay?”

“That works for me. Then it’s uh…” She hesitates, not sure she wants to use the D-word for this. “An agreed upon time for us to meet and hang out?”

“Yeah. Let’s call it one of those. Have a good night, Fig.”

“Thank you, and you too.”

I step into my truck, and close the door. As she turns and heads back into the house, I can see from here that Fig is nearly vibrating. My on the fly not-date idea must have made her very happy.

Which is fair, because it makes me very happy too.

As I pull out of the driveway, I take a deep breath. Maybe I should stop by the grocery store on the way back and make sure my self-grooming supplies are stocked up. You never know what could happen…