High Stakes Hideout

Chapter Six-Ivy

After Jake left, I took a two hour nap and then endured an awkward and painfully silent supper with Oliver. Finally, not able to stand the weirdness any longer I made the excuse of still being tired from the flight and locked myself in my room. It had felt like I was never going to fall asleep, and I really regretted that nap. How could I rest with Oliver sleeping down the hall? What if I snored and he heard me? I didn't think I snored. I mean, Jake said I did, but I didn't trust him on that. It's not like I had anyone to tell me the truth. I wasn't married and didn't have a roommate.

I had just, finally, drifted off to sleep when I was jolted awake by the most awful sound I had ever heard in my life. I gasped and quickly sat upright, searching around frantically for the offending noise so I could put it out of its misery. Not finding anything, I hastily located my slippers and stomped out to the living room. Maybe it was in there, or the kitchen. It had to be somewhere and it had to stop. Now.

"Morning sunshine," I heard Oliver say from the direction of the stove just as the awful noise died out.

"What was that?" I demanded, irritation dripping from my voice.

"What was what?" he asked, looking confused and too handsome in his jeans and flannel for this early in the morning.

"That awful, awful noise," I rubbed my forehead where I could feel a migraine brewing from lack of sleep coupled with the racket.

"Oh, that's just our rooster," Oliver said pleasantly as he turned back to stir something on the stove.

"That's a rooster? Is there something wrong with it?" Surely that is not what a rooster sounded like. Maybe this was all a dream. Better yet, maybe the dream started yesterday when we rolled up to Oliver's door.

"Yes, that's a rooster. That's KFC to be exact. And there's nothing wrong with him. All roosters sound that way. I don't suppose you would know that, though, city girl," he said with that adorably annoying wink of his. I would be ignoring that gesture, for the good of both of us. Oliver and I were like dynamite and I wouldn't be the one caught holding the match. Not this time.

"Wait a minute," I said, the conversation catching up in my sleep deprived brain. "KFC? You named your rooster after a restaurant famous for fried chicken. What is wrong with you?"

Oliver chuckled. "It's not what you think. It's just a play on words. How about some breakfast?" He gestured with his head for me to take a seat.

As I stepped over to the table, stomach suddenly grumbling, I caught sight of my reflection in the hall mirror and gasped. My mascara was smeared under my eyes, probably from the couple hours spent crying into my pillow, I had on my fuzzy pink pajamas, and I had a terrible case of bed head. I didn't even want to think about my morning breath. Of course I had to walk in looking like this while Oliver stood over there looking like he just stepped out of a cover shoot for America's most attractive farmers.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Um, I just need a minute. I'll be right back." I raced away, cheeks hot with embarrassment and headed for the shower. I had a feeling I was going to need a long, hot one to make it through today. Hopefully breakfast wouldn't be cold when I got back.

After I had washed my face and brushed my teeth, I quietly walked back in the kitchen to join Oliver for breakfast. Oliver stood and came over to pull my chair out for me. "Thank you," I said, trying to not show how much his nearness affected me. Though, with how loud my heart was pounding I was sure you could hear it from three counties away.

"You're welcome", he replied with a kind smile, taking his own seat and holding his hand out to me. I stared at it skeptically. Was he asking to hold hands with me? "I'd like to say grace." I mentally smacked myself in the head. Of course he's not trying to hold your hand. He broke up with you, remember?