A Many Splintered Thing / Day 10: “If the dog can’t stay neither can I.”

It's Friday! And we cracked, 14,000 words today. Can you believe that crazy shit? 
I'm looking forward to a nice big Pimm's cup later today. I have a great book ( Bird Box by Josh Malerman ) to read on the porch later and another on deck: The House of Small Shadows by Adam Nevill which I have been waiting FOREVER to read. 
Got any plans for the weekend? Your own version of the highly addictive Pimm's cup? Or perhaps a movie? Date night? A rendezvous with your hammock? Do tell.
But first, behold...day ten :)
XOXOSommer
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“Caleb, don’t be—“
He grabbed her arm. Harder than he intended. It took a breath to rein in his anger. He had to force himself to slowly let her arm go. It was half the size of his and his hand looked huge on her skin. Jasmine’s eyes had gone wide, but her pupils had dilated. He could see in her eyes an equal mix of fear and arousal.
“Do not say, Caleb, don’t be like that,” he said, putting his hands back on the steering wheel. “Don’t be like what? Don’t be pissed? I’m sitting here in fucking wine country, Santa Barbara, Lala land, a place I most definitely do not fit in, my dear. I have left my job, my house, my life to come here. And now you’ve patched things up with Biff Von Moneybags and I’m shit out of luck. Literally. I have a few hundred bucks, a dog I didn’t start out with and I’m exhausted. That’s all I have.”
“I can help you.”
“You’re the reason why I’m in this position.” He put his head down, inhaled deeply. “Correction. I’mthe reason I’m in this position. I was stupid enough to take you at your word and believe that it really could be different this time. That you’d made a major change. That you finally gotit. A person can be happy without money, Jasmine. A person can exist without a huge bank account.”
“Let me make it up to you,” she said. She looked like she wanted to touch him but she didn’t.
Caleb could practically see the wheels turning. He knew damn well she wanted to make him the guy. The guy who was waiting in a hotel room to fuck away the pain and worry and restlessness.
He gripped the wheel because part of him actually thought, I can do that. The other part of him wanted to smash something.
That’s not what he wanted to be. That’s not who he wanted to be.
“Just come up to the guest house. We have another employee who stays there. It’s part of the package deal. You have a salary, a job, a place to stay. While you’re there you can figure out what you want to do. If it’s leave, then you leave.”
He shut his eyes, trying to calm his heart. “What’s that job?”
“Same thing you were doing. Landscaping.”
His eyes popped open. “Landscaping! It’s a vineyard! There’s more land here than a dozen of me could care for.”
She shook her head and spared him a tight smile. “It’s just the land that belongs to the main house. Not the vineyard. The vineyard is cared for by other people, Caleb.”
He leaned out the window. “This is temporary. It’s because I have nowhere else to go and I’m running low on money. This is not because I agree to be your kept man.”
She snorted, amused by him.
“I’m not a dick in a hotel, Jas.”
“I never said you were,” she said softly.
He leveled a finger at her. “Oh, but you’re thinking it.”
“Caleb, just come up to the house. Get settled. Eat something. You can do whatever you like whenever you like. If you don’t want to see me again, or don’t want to be a part of my life, I can understand that. I messed everything up.” Her eyes were shiny. She was really pouring it on.
He was not fool enough to think these emotions were sincere. Oh, sure, she was a woman he’d drive a great distance for. Uproot himself and shake things up for. But he wasn’t stupid enough to think they were some great American love story. More like a Jackie Collins novel.
“Yes, you did. Now get in that little death trap of yours and lead me to the guest house. I’m tired, I’m filthy, I’m hungry and the poor dog has been cooped up in this car far too long.”
“Oh, Caleb,” she said. “I don’t know about a pet. This isn’t really a pet kind of place—“
“If the dog can’t stay neither can I.” There was no wiggle room on this.
She sighed as if he’d strapped a piano to her back. “Fine, fine! The dog can stay.”
“Alice,” he said.
“What?”
“Her name is Alice.”
“Oh,” Jasmine said, studying the dog. “You say that so defensively…like you’re defending her.”
“I am.” He patted Alice’s soft head.
“Look at you fawn over her,” she laughed. “Careful, I’ll start to think you like her more than me.”
He looked Jasmine right in the eye. “I do.”
When she smiled and he didn’t, she threw her shoulders back, straightened her spine and said, “Follow me up to the house. I have an appointment to get my hair done in an hour and I don’t want to be late.”
He started the Wagoneer and when she piloted the Spitfire through the gates he followed. Wondering what the fuck he was thinking. What the hell he was doing? He should turn around and go home. And yet part of him was determined not to do that. To adapt and do something else instead. Figure it out.
“Don’t worry,” he said to Alice. “I really do like you more than her.”
Together they followed the car to a house that was about four times the size of the bungalow he’d just left behind. “This is the guest house. Jesus fuck me.”
He pulled up next to a black Chevy pickup and got out. His legs felt both rubbery and stiff at the same time. Caleb cracked his back and then touched his toes. Alice hopped to his seat and he patted his thigh. “Come on, girl. Get out and stretch yourself.”
He didn’t have to ask her twice. She hopped down and immediately went to the grass and peed. Jasmine walked close. Close enough that he could smell her perfume. He remembered a thousand years ago when she wore Poison. Depending on her mood any given day he’d often thought it appropriate.
“I’m sorry for this. I truly am. I thought…I thought it would be different.”
“You’re not the only one.” Then: “Who am I living with? What lucky person has to put up with the likes of me even temporarily?”
“I think she’ll be fine with you. Nothing rattles Dahlia. And I mean nothing. She’s practically a guy,” Jasmine said, wrinkling her nose.
“Dahlia? That brings to mind not too great things.”
“It’s a flower, Caleb.”
He sighed again. He was sighing a lot. Jasmine was a sigh-inducing person. Another thing he’d forgotten. “I know that, Jasmine. I meant the Black Dahlia case. Famous murder mystery. Unsolved to this day, if I’m not mistaken…”
“Oh.” Jasmine shuddered. “Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that.”
“What does Dahlia do?”
“She cleans. The main house, the guest house, the tasting pavilion.”
“Alone?”
“Mostly, but if we’re having an event she gets a crew. We don’t overburden her, Caleb, don’t worry.”He fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Well, is she in there? I’ll introduce myself and Alice. And I’ll assure her this is only temporary. Very temporary.”
“No. She’s not in there. Here’s she comes.”
Caleb turned to where Jasmine pointed and there she was. Tall—taller than Jas—and curvy. She was a true hour glass figure if he’d ever seen one. Black cowboy boots worn with pale, well-worn jeans and a black tank top. Her hair was twisted into two braids and she wore aviator shades. What color were her eyes, he wondered almost instantly. And then found himself surprised by the errant thought. As she got closer she saw the three long scars that started at her right collar bone and disappeared down into the neck of the tank top. His mind immediately wanted to follow them down to their logical conclusion. Somehow the marks on her skin made her fiercer—even more beautiful.
Screw what color are her eyes, what the hell had done that to her?
She didn’t smile but he could tell that behind those amber lenses, her eyes—regardless of color—were studying him intently.

photo credit: Bhumika.B via photopin cc