“You’ve been quiet today.” She accepted the soap, lathering her hands as he pumped the handle for her. “I mean, I can tell you’re not a super talkative person, but it seems like every word out of my mouth pisses you off.”
“Conner and Vincent will keep you entertained.” He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “People aren’t my thing.”
“What did I do to make you so mad at me?” She set down the soap, rinsing the last of the bubbles onto the ground.
“Typical rich girl. My asking you to pitch in automatically means that I’m mad at you.” He rolled his eyes.
“I don’t mind pitching in.” She shook the cold water off her hands. “I don’t know how to cook, but that’s no reason to snap at me.”
“It doesn’t take a five-star chef to cut potatoes.” He nodded toward the house, and she followed him. Once inside, he lifted the trap door and climbed down into the dark cellar.
“So, does that mean you’re not mad at me?” Jillian crouched beside the open hatch, peering inside.
Finn returned with a metal bucket filled with lumpy brown potatoes covered with dirt. He handed it to her before coming out, holding a second bucket, this one empty except for a paring knife that clinked around as the bucket swayed. She eventually accepted that he’d brushed off her question and didn’t plan on answering.
When they got back to the firepit, Conner and Vincent looked up from what they were doing.
“Potatoes or rice tonight?” Conner smiled as he set a big pot of water on the grate.
“You’re so observant.” Finn nodded to Jillian, who was still carrying the bucket of potatoes.
“You’re not making her cook.” Conner reached for the bucket handle, but Jillian pulled it back.
“No one can make me do anything.” She cleared her throat. “I want to learn to peel potatoes. It can’t be that hard.”
She sat down on a stump-style bench.
“Put the peels in that.” Finn handed her the paring knife as he set the empty bucket down next to her.
Conner put his hands up and backed away as Vincent chuckled to himself, rotating the spit another quarter turn. Conner grabbed the percolator and poured himself a cup of coffee. Jillian awkwardly gripped a potato in one hand and the knife in the other, scraping the edge of the blade sideways over the potato skin. After realizing it wasn’t an effective method, she angled the knife, turning the potato over a couple of different ways, trying to figure out the easiest way to go about it.
“Here.” Vincent picked up a potato and demonstrated with his knife. “Hold it like this, cutting away from your hand. Never cut toward yourself, especially while you’re getting the hang of it.”
“Like this?” Jillian tried to copy his form, but her cuts weren’t nearly as smooth as his.
“You’re a natural.” He smiled, returning to his work.
“You’re not kidding when you say you’ve never done this before.” Finn eyed the angular rhombus-shaped potato in her hands.
“There are a lot of things I’ve never done before.” She bit her lip as she focused.
Conner choked on his coffee, and she realized that what she said could have been taken a couple of different ways.
“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not a… I’ve been with a few guys. Obviously, not at one time.” She stammered as the three men stared, an uncomfortable hush settling over them.
“We’re not here to judge each other or you.” Vincent looked around at the three of them as he poked the snake with his knife to see if it was cooking evenly. “This isn’t a damn nunnery. Conner, let’s put some tomatoes on. This needs some color.”
“I guess I’m going to the greenhouse.” Conner set his coffee down and walked off. Their greenhouse was only about twenty by twelve feet. It was attached to the side of the cabin, even though the entrance was on the outside.
“You guys are pretty good at this outdoorsy stuff.” Jillian smiled at Finn. “Your carbon footprint must be pretty much non-existent. Did you grow up on a farm or something?
“Nope.” Finn poured a cup of coffee and offered it to Jillian.
“Oh.” She looked at the muddy concoction and wrinkled her chin. “You don’t have any non-fat French vanilla creamer, do you?”
Finn just stared at her.
“I’m kidding.” She smiled. “I’m good. Caffeine makes me jittery. So not a farm guy, got it. Is your family into hunting? My dad took me fishing once, but I cried when it came time to kill the fish.”
“No.” Finn took a long sip from the cup and sat down. He picked up a long, straight stick from a stack of similar ones and started carving it into a point.
“So, where'd you learn…” She reverted to trying to solve the riddle that was Finn.
“Look, is this necessary?” He threw the stick down.
“Did I do something to offend you?” She scowled at him, glancing over at Vincent.
“This… pretending like you give a fuck about any of us. I know that you've had a shitty couple of days, and you're probably wondering if you've lost your mind. But let's be honest. You don’t want to be here. You're going to get the hell out of Dodge if you know what’s good for you. And to keep your sanity, you’ll try to forget that any of this ever happened.”
“Is that what you think?” Jillian’s expression softened. “Do you really think I could forget any of this? If it weren’t for the three of you,
