Page 18 of Check Mate

I take a deep breath and then blow it out slowly. “Yeah, I leave in five days. Not gonna lie; I’m nervous.”

Drew does one squat, instructing me how to use the proper form before responding. “You’re a homebody, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But I hope you can let loose and have a little fun.”

Bending to get the bar onto my shoulders, I step back and start squatting. “Letting loose isn’t my strong suit,” I grit out as I pop back up and set the bar back on the rack.

“Four more,” Drew says, pointing to the bar. “It’ll be good to get out of your comfort zone; maybe you’ll love it and start traveling all the time.”

I glare at the bar like it has personally offended me, then get back underneath it for another squat. “Maybe. But I doubt it.” I squat down and am breathing heavily. “I like…my own….mattress,” I say with a groan as I force my legs back up and set the bar down once again.

Drew huffs out a laugh and then gives me an encouraging pat on the back. “You’ve never been camping though. Sleeping outside and being in nature… there’s nothing like it, man. I love camping.”

I’d roll my eyes if I had more energy. Drew goes camping all the time with his buddies from work.

“Oh, I almost forgot! I got you a birthday present. Be right back.” Drew dashes inside the house, appearing a minute later with a Target bag. “Sorry I didn’t wrap it.”

He hands me the bag and I peek inside. There’s a small black notebook with a stretchy band that holds the pages closed. “A notebook?”

Drew rubs the back of his neck like he’s mildly embarrassed. “Yeah. When I turned thirty I started… journaling.” His eyes become shiny like he’s about to cry. “I’d write down my goals, my bucket list, my feelings.” He clears his throat, which is apparently thick with emotion. “Sorry, you know I’m a crier.”

“Uh, that’s okay.” Awkwardly, I lean forward and pat him on the back a few times. His very sweaty back. “Thanks for the present.”

I set the bag to the side, and we continue our workout. By the time we’ve finished two more sets of squats, I’m wiped out and ready to go home. Drew tried to talk me into going for a short run… but I made an excuse about needing to get some work done. Thankfully, he bought it.

On my drive home, I wonder how I’m going to walk tomorrow… also what on earth I’m going to do with a journal?

Chapter six

Isabella

I didn’t bother setting my alarm for Friday morning since I closed at work the night before. I’m able to sleep in until about nine a.m., when I hear a rooster crowing. Deliriously, I throw my pillow over my head and fall back asleep. A few minutes later, I’m woken up again. This time it seems the roosters have multiplied. There’s a lot of crowing going on, so it has to be more than one.

“What in the world…” I grumble to myself as I crawl out of bed.

Which one of my neighbors got roosters? It definitely wouldn’t be David. He’s no animal lover. I walk to my front door, still in my spaghetti strap nightgown, and peek out the front window.

My jaw drops and my eyes slowly widen when I see my small front porch is currently hosting half a dozen roosters. They’re all in cages and look to be a mixture of colors and breeds.

“What the—” A knock on the door interrupts me mid-swear. I grab a zip up hoodie that’s on my sofa and throw it on before opening the door.

Standing there is a short, older man dawning suspenders and a cowboy hat. He has a caged rooster in each hand. “Good morning, ma’am,” he drawls in a thick Southern accent.

I can barely form words, but manage to stutter out a good morning.

“Saw yer ad, and brought these old boys by for your rooster rescue. Great work you’re doing for roosters, by the way.”

I blink rapidly. “I’m sorry, rooster rescue?”

He ignores my question and drops the cages on the porch, then turns to leave. “Have a good one!”

The two roosters stare at each other, then at me. I stare back at them, at a loss for words. I hear the man’s pickup door shut and my brain finally starts functioning at full capacity.

I run toward him, waving my arms in the air. “Wait! Sir!”

He smiles and waves before driving away.

“This isn’t a rooster rescue!” I yell, throwing my hands up. He’s too far down the road for me to chase him, especially since I’m barefoot.

Standing there in the center of the street, I look from my front porch and then back to the man’s truck, which is growing smaller in the distance. From the corner of my eye, I notice movement from David’s front window and my head whips in that direction.