inside the house.
“Hey,” Maddox said as he mounted the steps.
Chanel jumped to her feet dropping the phone she’d been holding.
“Sorry to scare you.”
“You’re pretty stealthy for a big guy,” she said placing a hand over her heart.
“So, um, I’m guessing you have Internet up here. I need to email my parents.” The request was blunt, not at all what he should have said. That was going to tick her off. Almost immediately, the softness left her face, and she stood straighter.
“Didn’t you get a phone card while you were in town?”
“Slipped my mind. So, can I use your computer, or not?” He was dying to turn around and return to the bunkhouse, but she’d already outmaneuvered him that morning. It wasn’t going to happen again.
The sliding glass door slid open and Mitch stepped onto the deck. “Hey, Maddox. I figured you’d be gettin’ some shuteye. We’ve got another early morning tomorrow.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I’ll be on time, don’t worry. I was wondering if I could use your computer to email my parents.”
Mitch smiled and smacked him on the back. “Sure, come on in. Feel free to come by anytime you need to use it.”
Victory pulsed through Maddox’s veins as he followed Mitch into the house. He couldn’t resist a glance back at Chanel. Sure enough, she was seething on the deck. As long as he kept Mitch happy, he could keep her on her toes.
Mitch led him through the open living room and kitchen and down a hall lined with landscape photographs. Before Maddox could ask who had taken them, Mitch stepped into a cluttered office.
“Ignore the mess. Take your time,” Mitch said and headed back out again.
Large aerial maps covered two of the walls, a bookshelf and whiteboard dominated a third, and a huge window took up the fourth. Paperwork was scattered across the heavy wood desk along with what looked like cow catalogs. You could order cattle from catalogs? The idea amused Maddox, and a smile played on his lips as he sat down in the well-worn rolling leather chair. Impressed with the large flat screen monitor, Maddox never would have pinned Mitch for a tech savvy guy. He clicked the Internet icon and while it loaded, noticed a couple of dirty coffee mugs on the desk near an eight by ten picture frame. Maddox leaned closer and studied the woman and the girl in the photo. It was clear the girl was Chanel. She was probably around second or third grade. The woman looked more like Chanel now right down to the dimples. Both of their hair was streaked from the summer sun. Where was she now? A wise person would have run screaming from this place.
He entered his parents’ email addresses into the to line and keyed a couple of quick sentences saying he’d arrived safely, the people were very nice, and he’d begun work in the hayfields. It wasn’t worth going into detail with them. They were both caught up in their own lives and wouldn’t spare the time to do more than take a quick glance to make sure he was still alive. Though the hayfield part might give them pause, as they would envision him doing manual labor like the immigrants all around them in Southern California. But then they would reassure themselves that as long as he was healthy and still eligible to play, that was what really mattered. His football career made them look good. He’d be shocked if one of them responded. Yet, if he hadn’t reported in, they would have had a conniption.
Leaving the email window open, Maddox opened a second and brought up social media to see what the outside world was up to. His newsfeed was choked with pictures of his friends stretched out on the sand or engaged in beach volleyball games. Several of his favorite lady friends had private messaged him, asking why he hadn’t been answering their texts and wondered when they could hook up. He sighed and closed the website. It was too depressing to see what everybody else was doing, and there was no way he was going to tell those
“Hey,” Maddox said as he mounted the steps.
Chanel jumped to her feet dropping the phone she’d been holding.
“Sorry to scare you.”
“You’re pretty stealthy for a big guy,” she said placing a hand over her heart.
“So, um, I’m guessing you have Internet up here. I need to email my parents.” The request was blunt, not at all what he should have said. That was going to tick her off. Almost immediately, the softness left her face, and she stood straighter.
“Didn’t you get a phone card while you were in town?”
“Slipped my mind. So, can I use your computer, or not?” He was dying to turn around and return to the bunkhouse, but she’d already outmaneuvered him that morning. It wasn’t going to happen again.
The sliding glass door slid open and Mitch stepped onto the deck. “Hey, Maddox. I figured you’d be gettin’ some shuteye. We’ve got another early morning tomorrow.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I’ll be on time, don’t worry. I was wondering if I could use your computer to email my parents.”
Mitch smiled and smacked him on the back. “Sure, come on in. Feel free to come by anytime you need to use it.”
Victory pulsed through Maddox’s veins as he followed Mitch into the house. He couldn’t resist a glance back at Chanel. Sure enough, she was seething on the deck. As long as he kept Mitch happy, he could keep her on her toes.
Mitch led him through the open living room and kitchen and down a hall lined with landscape photographs. Before Maddox could ask who had taken them, Mitch stepped into a cluttered office.
“Ignore the mess. Take your time,” Mitch said and headed back out again.
Large aerial maps covered two of the walls, a bookshelf and whiteboard dominated a third, and a huge window took up the fourth. Paperwork was scattered across the heavy wood desk along with what looked like cow catalogs. You could order cattle from catalogs? The idea amused Maddox, and a smile played on his lips as he sat down in the well-worn rolling leather chair. Impressed with the large flat screen monitor, Maddox never would have pinned Mitch for a tech savvy guy. He clicked the Internet icon and while it loaded, noticed a couple of dirty coffee mugs on the desk near an eight by ten picture frame. Maddox leaned closer and studied the woman and the girl in the photo. It was clear the girl was Chanel. She was probably around second or third grade. The woman looked more like Chanel now right down to the dimples. Both of their hair was streaked from the summer sun. Where was she now? A wise person would have run screaming from this place.
He entered his parents’ email addresses into the to line and keyed a couple of quick sentences saying he’d arrived safely, the people were very nice, and he’d begun work in the hayfields. It wasn’t worth going into detail with them. They were both caught up in their own lives and wouldn’t spare the time to do more than take a quick glance to make sure he was still alive. Though the hayfield part might give them pause, as they would envision him doing manual labor like the immigrants all around them in Southern California. But then they would reassure themselves that as long as he was healthy and still eligible to play, that was what really mattered. His football career made them look good. He’d be shocked if one of them responded. Yet, if he hadn’t reported in, they would have had a conniption.
Leaving the email window open, Maddox opened a second and brought up social media to see what the outside world was up to. His newsfeed was choked with pictures of his friends stretched out on the sand or engaged in beach volleyball games. Several of his favorite lady friends had private messaged him, asking why he hadn’t been answering their texts and wondered when they could hook up. He sighed and closed the website. It was too depressing to see what everybody else was doing, and there was no way he was going to tell those
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