Feels like Rain (Lake Fisher 3)

“Nope.”

“Are you always this hardheaded?”

“Yep.”

“Your parole officer called us,” she says.

I freeze. “What did he want?”

“He wanted to confirm full-time employment and confirm that your domicile is part of our agreement.”

I grunt. I didn’t know that he was going to call them.

“I hate to lie, so you’ll have to take one of the cabins.” She lifts her hand to shield her eyes and grins up at me.

I look down at her. “You told him I’m living in a cabin?”

“No, I don’t like to lie. So I just told him that a cabin is provided as part of your employment agreement.”

“So you skirted around the fact that I’m living in a tent.”

“He didn’t ask about a tent. He just wanted to know about housing.”

I grunt at her, because I feel like she’s waiting for a response that I don’t have.

“You know,” she says, her voice a little quieter, “you tormenting yourself by living in a tent isn’t going to help you any in the long run.”

“I’m not tormenting myself. I like my tent. It’s mine.” Actually, it was my dad’s. I picked it up from my mom’s house the day I got the job here.

“But you can have a cabin,” she yells at me, and now she’s obviously frustrated.

Jake walks around the corner just then, heading straight for Katie, and I’ve never been so happy to see anybody in my life.

“Katie,” Jake says, a warning in his voice. “If he wanted to live in the cabin, he’d live in the cabin. He’s a grown man, he can live wherever he wants. So leave him alone about it.”

“I just want to be sure he knows it’s there for him.”

“I know it’s there,” I call down. “Thank you.”

Katie punches her hands onto her hips and glares at Jake. “He’s so stubborn.”

“Hello, pot,” Jake says with a chuckle. “Meet kettle.” I hear his voice get quieter. “Leave the man alone. He can decide where he wants to live.”

“I know, but I thought I could help him see reason.” They’re obviously having what should be a private conversation, but I can hear every word from up on the roof.

“Leave it be, Katie,” Jake says, a warning in his voice now.

“Leave it be, Katie,” she says, mocking his deep voice. She throws her hands out to the sides, and my duck takes a flying leap to get away from her apparently frightening flailing arms. Sally the dog just lies down and rolls onto his side, where he basks in the fall sunshine. “I don’t want to leave it be!” she hisses at Jake. “I want to fix it.”

“It’s not yours to fix,” he hisses back.

“When you get over being stubborn,” Katie calls up to me, “there’s an empty cabin for you to move into.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” I tack down my last shingle and climb back down the ladder. I say nothing to either of them as I collect my tools. Then I address Jake. “Did you have anything else that needs doing? Or do you want me to go mow the field like we talked about?”

“You can mow the field,” he replies. He keeps glaring at Katie, and she glares right back. “Stop it,” he says, as he points his finger and jabs it in her direction.

“I will not stop it,” she replies. But she does turn on her heel and walk away, the big old dog walking along behind her. My duck stands at my feet, watching the great beast walk in the other direction.