I can’t believe how quickly I’ve settled in here. It’s been nearly three weeks since I first arrived, and I’m already building a life for myself. I commute places in a pickup truck. I use the word y’all un-ironically. Just yesterday, I accidentally drank water with my lunch instead of sweet tea and I gagged.

I like it in Cedar Creek way more than I thought I would. The work is hard, and I don’t exactly love what I’m doing, but it does come with perks: I love cooking lunch for Edith and Jack, and they actually seem to be enjoying my healthier dishes. Jack even requested my salmon this week. I really enjoy doing yoga with Edith, and yesterday, she told me she was pretty close to touching her foot to her face.

“I haven’t been able to do that in years!”

However, my absolute favorite perk is Jack. Talking to him, annoying him, staring at him when he’s not paying attention—there’s really no end to my obsession at this point. He and I aren’t friends exactly, but I still enjoy our exchanges. I’m aware of where he is in the house at all times, as if he’s wearing a tracking device. Still, I try not to disturb him too much. I mean, bringing him lemonade or a snack isn’t necessarily disturbing him, and it affords me a quick glimpse of him working, a little snapshot to hold me over while I’m in laundry hell.

Yesterday morning, he was out helping the guys clear a section of the garden. I have no clue what they were doing—tilling? Harvesting? I really don’t care, and it doesn’t matter because whatever it was, it meant Jack was out there in plain view wearing jeans, a dark blue work shirt, and his baseball hat. I stood at the kitchen window, repeatedly drying a single plate as I watched him get his hands dirty.

I was biting my bottom lip.

Clutching the towel.

And then he lifted the bottom of his work shirt to wipe at some sweat on his face and Edith walked in on me, bent over the sink, eyes pinched closed as I recited what I knew of the Lord’s Prayer, which was pretty much just the first few lines. I lose track after the part about bread.

“Are you having a heart attack or something?”

“Menstrual cramps,” I lied.

“Go lie down and rest. I’ll finish drying those.”

Here’s a little secret: I let her dry the last of those dishes so I could go take a break in the shack, and I did lie down, but I didn’t rest.

I didn’t rest THREE TIMES.

I know. It’s probably a sin to not rest so soon after saying the Lord’s Prayer, but sometimes you just have to not rest right when the mood takes you.

I should feel guilty about fantasizing about my boss, but a part of me is so relieved that I’m even interested in fantasizing about anyone at this point. Andrew and I hadn’t slept together for months near the end, and before that, sex wasn’t something I took pleasure in. He was like a soul-sucking, libido-killing leech.

Now…nowwww that’s all I’m interested in.

It’s like I have an unquenchable thirst and no matter how many times I don’t rest, it never seems to sate me. I think I’ve got it under control and then Jack will say something in his gruff tone that’s meant to get under my skin, but really it just feels like a whole lot of foreplay at this point. Getting under his skin has somehow gotten tied up in my horniness neurons, so now, it’s not just fun working him up…it’s fun. I know—bad, bad Meredith. Whatever. I have problems, and I have every intention of sorting them out, just as soon as I see where this obsession with Jack could lead.

It’s Thursday, and I haven’t seen him all day. He left the ranch earlier and didn’t return until after lunch. I was down in the living room, straightening up when he walked in the front door and breezed right past me. No smile, no wave, not even a grumpy comment.

Huh.

Later, I knock on his door and ask him if I can get him anything, perhaps a snack or something to drink. He shouts back that he’s on the phone, and he sounds pissed that I’m interrupting him. I feel bad, not to mention slightly embarrassed that he sounded so put-off. Like I said, we aren’t friends, but it feels like we’ve been heading in that direction. Okay, maybe not friends in the traditional sense, but we’ve at least been dialing down the hatred to a sustainable level.

Him dismissing me is a tiny step in the wrong direction, but I shrug it off. Maybe he’s had a hard day. Maybe he’s got a burr in his saddle. (See? I really do belong in the country.)

I wait for Jack to make an appearance after his phone call ends, but he doesn’t. That burr must be wedged deep.

In the early evening, I brew a pot of decaf coffee and Edith joins me at the table with some shortbread cookies. We’re ruining our appetites for dinner, but neither one of us mothers the other. We talk about how excited we are for the wedding on Saturday and what sort of snacks we should make for yoga on Sunday afternoon. After I’ve got her really talking, I work up the courage to ask her if she’s noticed anything weird with Jack.

“Oh, and no big deal at all…just while I have you here…I was wondering if maybe, by chance…never mind—oh, do you want more coffee? Here, let me get it for you.”

She swats my hand away when I try to take her mug.

“Spit it out, woman!”

“Have you noticed anything weird about Jack lately?”

“I get less information out of him than a month-old lemon. All I know is he ate dinner out last night and he’s been gone all day.” She shifts her gaze up to me. “Is he giving you trouble again? I can knock some more sense into him—”

“No! No, it’s fine.” I smile covertly down at my coffee. “We’ve sort of come to an understanding, an equilibrium.”

“Equi-what? Y’all are getting along now?”

His tone from earlier leaps to mind. “I don’t think you’d say that exactly. It’s like when a baby tiger and a baby pig grow up together to be buddies in adulthood, but you just know deep down that it might all blow up the next time the tiger skips a meal.”

“Huh…okay. But he’s not upsetting you anymore?”

“No.” A flush warms my body. “He’s not upsetting me.”

After we finish, I clear the table and start prepping lunch for tomorrow. I’m technically off the clock, but I don’t want to go back to the shack just yet. A part of me is still hoping Jack will come down, act like his usual arrogant self, and put me out of my misery. Just one little teasing comment from him and I can go on home and keep myself occupied for the rest of the evening.

The sound of a truck pulling up out on the gravel drive takes my attention from the cutting board. That’s another thing different about the country—gravel is the universal doorbell. Alfred barks like crazy at the sound. It could be one of the ranch hands, but they all left an hour or two ago so I doubt that’s who it is. I wipe my hands with a kitchen towel and go investigate. There’s an ominous feeling in my gut, like something bad is about to happen, but when I step out onto the porch, I’m surprised and relieved to find Tucker hopping out of his truck.

It’s weird, but a part of me was worried it’d be Andrew.

I shake away the fear and trot down the steps to greet him. He’s in full lawyer mode, wearing slacks and a white dress shirt. His tie is a little loose, as if he tugged on it the moment he left the courthouse. His blond hair is short and neatly styled.

“Tucker, the knight in shining armor himself! Here to see Jack?”

He furrows his brow. “Of course not. I came to see you.”

Me? I’m not sure why I’m surprised he’s here for me, but I am. I know we’re supposed to go to the wedding together, but a part of me half expected him to forget the invitation. It’s not like we’ve talked since he first mentioned it. That’s my fault; I didn’t give him my cell phone number, but it was a strategic move on my part. I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. I’m not currently dating. Hell, I’m not even divorced. I have a whack job ex sending me flowers, and I’m currently loopy over a dark-haired devil who seems to be avoiding me.

Before I get splattered, I quickly step off the tracks of that train of thought and accept a quick hug from Tucker.

“Oh? Well it’s good to see you,” I tell him, motioning back to the house. “I just brewed a pot of decaf, there’s a little left if you want some?”

The screen door creaks open behind me. Speak of the devil. Jack steps out onto the porch, and I swallow down my nerves. He’s the complete antithesis of Tucker: dark and foreboding, a menace to society. His short dark hair is slightly mussed, and he’s wearing a black t-shirt and jeans. His expression is so steely and aggressive against Tucker’s honey-sweet smile, and it’s like an old western standoff—the desperado in black against the righteous lawman.

“Tucker. Good to see you.” His tone says the exact opposite.

“Such enthusiasm! You do know it’s my job to tell when people are lying, right?”

He ignores Tucker’s jab. “What can I do for you?”

“Nothing. There seemed to be something wrong with your phone system, so I thought I’d come out here myself to have a conversation with Meredith, if that’s all right with you.”

“Of course,” he answers, but he doesn’t leave, and he doesn’t take his eyes off Tucker. He shoves his hands into his jean pockets and leans against the porch beam at the top of the stairs.

When I turn back, I can tell Tucker’s trying hard to keep his temper from flaring.

“Tucker?” I ask, trying to regain his attention and diffuse the situation. I’m seconds away from snapping my fingers or flailing my arms.

Hey, remember me? The girl you’re apparently here for?!

He finally turns to me and his expression softens. “I tried to call you this week, but Jack didn’t seem to want to pass along the message.”

“My secretary is in Europe,” Jack calls from the porch, his tone a touch defensive.

“And I guess you didn’t have a pen and paper handy?” Tucker shoots back quickly.

“I don’t have time to pass notes.”

Oh, come on. This is ridiculous.

I step toward Tucker, trying to block his view of Jack. “It’s fine. I’m here now. What were you going to tell me?”

“I just wanted to confirm that you still want to go to Dan and Leanna’s wedding with me.”

“Oh, right.”

He must sense my hesitation because he continues. “I know we don’t know each other well, but I think it could be fun.”

Jack is standing behind us, listening to this exchange. I nibble on my bottom lip. Yeesh. This is awkward. I’m sure Edith is upstairs peeping through the blinds. Alfred is smart enough to keep his distance, and most of the farm animals have probably run to the barn to bury themselves in hay.

“Unless you agreed to go with someone else instead?” he asks, gaze shifting pointedly to Jack.

His meaning is obvious. I don’t need eyes on the back of my head to know Jack is currently scowling at the idea of accompanying me to an event. Just the mental image is preposterous. Me in a fancy dress, him in a suit…our hands linked…his warm breath on my neck as he leans in close to pay me a compliment instead of an insult.

“No!” I’m quick to reply, pricking the fantasy with a pin. “I don’t have another date, but…”

A part of me wants to turn Tucker down and be done with all this, but the fact is, I was actually really looking forward to attending the wedding. It’s been a while since I’ve gone to an event like that and not been terrified of upsetting Andrew, and I was going to get dolled up and wear the fancier of my two thrift store dresses. Everyone I’ve met so far in Cedar Creek is going to be in attendance, and then there’s obviously the most important part: wedding cake. Maybe I’ll volunteer to help dole it out and they’ll let me go home with some leftovers. Oh no, I couldn’t possibly…But we insist!…No, I actually can’t—my purse is already completely full of cake.

“Good.” He grins, relieved that I’ve agreed to go with him. He really is cute, like a little blond cherub all grown up.

“I can meet you there. Edith and Jack are both going so I can catch a ride with them.” I’m trying to wrap things up because I’m aware of dark eyes beaming lasers into the back of my head. Sniff sniff—is that the smell of burning hair?

Tucker doesn’t like that idea; I can see it in the way his jaw shifts and his eyes narrow just for a split second as he decides to force the issue. “I’d prefer to pick you up. I’ll swing by here at 5:00.”

“Well I’m so glad this all worked out,” Jack says sarcastically, effectively ending the conversation. “It was great to see you, Tucker. G’bye now.”

What he means is, Get the hell off my property. If he had a shotgun, he’d pump it.

Tucker chuckles and shakes his head, trying to assure me that Jack doesn’t ruffle his feathers. He does move to leave, but not before he bends to kiss my cheek and whispers in my ear, “Looking forward to Saturday.”

It’s a slightly dirty tactic on his part. I wonder if he ever gives the judge a little peck in the courtroom. Your honor—mwah—I rest my case.

I stand there as he drives off and when I turn back, Jack is gone. He’s back up in his office with the door closed.

That no good, rotten…

I march right in.

“What was that?!”

“I’ll have to call you back,” he says before hanging up his phone.

“Why were you so rude down there? You’re Mister Busy Busy Bee all day, but apparently you had time to moderate my conversation with Tucker? You stood over us like the Grim Reaper.”

He watches me stomp around and shout with a steady, narrowed gaze. “Done?”

“Not even close.”

“Tucker and I don’t get along.”

Ya think!?

“Yes, obviously I understand that now. Why didn’t you just tell me that instead of acting like that down there?” I force a deep breath and attempt a calmer tone. “If you don’t want me to go with him to the wedding, I won’t. I’m not trying to cause trouble.”

“I don’t want you to go with him.”

I’m surprised he’s being honest about that.

“In fact,” he continues. “I don’t think you should go at all.”

I realize then that we’re both trying hard to stay calm, but it’s a losing battle. He and I burn hot, and this conversation isn’t going to end well. Still, I press on.

“Are you upset with me?” I ask, slightly embarrassed that my voice sounds so wobbly.

Throughout all our antics, I’ve never seen him act like this. I have a feeling he’s mad about more than Tucker’s visit.

He leans back in his chair and assesses me coldly.

“No, I’m not upset with you. I’d just like to know how long you plan on doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Playing this game. Staying here and acting like you belong.”

Something twists in my stomach, a feeling as painful as a sucker punch. I don’t like his tone, and I don’t like where this conversation is headed. I’d turn and leave, save myself from the sharp edge of his temper, but he continues before I can move.

“It’s been almost three weeks. I admit, Helen and I—we thought you’d be gone by now.”

“What gave you that impression?” My voice is shrouded in confusion. “Haven’t I been a good employee? I work nonstop. I do everything you and Edith ask of me—”

“Look at it from my point of view. Some rich housewife from fucking California shows up on my doorstep with blood on her face, asking for a job. The only intel I have on her is that she’s a spoiled girl with a history of dramatic, short-lived gestures. The only reason you’re here is as a favor to your sister—a favor I’ve regretted ever since I granted it.”

“Why’s that? Haven’t I done everything you’ve asked me to? Scrubbed your floors? Put up with your shit?”

“You’re a distraction.”

“For whom?”

I know he’s referring to his ranch hands, but I have a sneaking suspicion that he might be included in there too. I won’t let him skate by that easily. If he wants to hurt me, he’d better do it with the truth.

He sidesteps the question. “I think it’s time for you to go home, don’t you? I saw those flowers in the trash. I read that note.”

I step toward his desk, shifting my pain to anger. “That’s none of your business. If you want me gone, look me in the eye and tell me I’m not good at my job. I don’t think you have one legitimate reason for hating me, just a bunch of secondhand bullshit from other people.”

My hands fist by my sides and my upper lip curls. His brown eyes are shooting daggers as we stare across his desk at one another.

“It just doesn’t make sense. What game are you playing? You’re not from here. You have no real family, and the family you do have wasn’t thrilled to hear you’d shown up. No real friends. There’s no reason for you to be here anymore.”

“Sounds like you’ve figured it all out. You know exactly who I am, Jack.” I add in a condescending round of applause.

“Flirting with the ranch hands, accepting dates with Tucker—does your husband know you’ve already moved on? I bet not.” He pauses for just a beat. “Yeah, I have a pretty good idea of who you are, Meredith. You have a husband back home worrying himself sick over you, and I don’t even think you care. I think you like the attention, and I think you like playing games with men you have no intention of loving.”

It’s one thing to stand here and have my faults and failures thrown at me, and quite another to stand here and let him fling baseless accusations at me. He’s decided to play judge, jury, and executioner. He thinks I’m a bored sociopath with a doting husband waiting for me back in California and a trail of idolizers in my wake. To hear him actually say it makes me so angry that my fingernails dig into my skin as I fist my palms even tighter. There’s fire burning up inside of me so powerful, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to douse it. It’s anger like I’ve never felt. If I were a juvenile superhero, this would be the moment I lose control of my power and blow up a city. But, here in reality, the only things I lose control of are the tears gathering in the corners of my eyes.

Ever since I married Andrew, I’ve been misjudged and misunderstood by the people around me: my parents, Helen, my so-called friends in California. I’ve dealt with their assumptions and mistruths, and I’ve accepted their loyalty to Andrew over me in stride. Sure, it’s painful, but I’ve tolerated it because I knew the real truth.

But, to hear Jack so taken in by Andrew’s manipulation from over a thousand miles away is unbearable. It’s the knockout punch. There’s nothing left because now I fully realize that whatever evil is inside Andrew, he’s poisoned me with it. No matter where I go, I’ll carry it around with me forever, ruining my hopes for a new beginning.

If I weren’t so furious, I think my trembling knees would buckle. My heart is beating so wildly it scares me. I feel numb and tingly and so full of helplessness that I want to scream until my throat is sore and my voice is gone.

I realize then that Jack is looking at me with new eyes, not quite as full of rage as they were a few minutes ago. It’s obvious my reaction is scaring him—I’m glad. I hope he sees how deeply his words have wounded me.

“So the story of Meredith is open and shut. Why don’t we move on to you, Jack?” I dig deep to conjure up a wicked, half-crazed smile. “I used to think the rough appearance you wear was all for show. I thought deep down, you weren’t really the demon people think you are. I was wrong, just like you’re wrong about me. You’re the meanest asshole I’ve ever met, which is saying something because I was married to a monster, but you? You might have him beat.” I laugh acerbically. “I even find it all a little hilarious—I escape from hell just to run right into the arms of the devil.”