The Harpy Moves On

Author's note:

Darcy's story began with a separate story called, "The Harpy", though this is an independent story and The Harpy need not be ready to understand anything.

Comments are always appreciated.

*****

It had been what felt like the longest day of Darcy's life, which was funny since on Saturdays as soon as she finished with her 12pm class she cleaned up and closed the studio. Home by 2pm, she decided a nap was in order and collapsed onto her bed, the bed that now held memories of her night with Derek. Last night. She had thought about it all day, and it was pretty clear that it had been a mistake. They were divorced for a reason. Mostly that reason was he had dumped her and demanded a divorce, but even beyond that she had changed in the years since the divorce. She had grown. She had tried to start dating. She had Gotten Over It.

Or she thought she had. Based the events of last night, she was starting to doubt she was as over it as she thought.

"I think you should go," she'd told him as he stood, wooden spoon in hand, standing over a pan of eggs.

"Come on, Darcy, just relax." He was dismissive. Calm down, you're being hysterical. Are you on you period?

"Derek, you divorced me. You ripped my heart out you—you took the dog. Last night was a mistake."

Ever responsible, he turned off the stove, moved the pan off the warm burner and set down the spoon before he came to her, grasped her forearms in his hands and tried to meet her eyes. She turned her head away, making every effort to blink back tears. "I have to get to work," she told the wall behind his head.

"I know this is a lot," he said, giving her arms a reassuring squeeze. "But we can take it slow."

That was comical, considering that the last real conversation they had had was at mediation during the divorce, and yesterday he had been inside of her.

"Okay, okay," he laughed, as if reading her thoughts. "From now on we can take it slow. Go out to dinner with me tonight."

She shook her head, at a loss for words. "No, Derek."

It had taken awhile for him to get it, to see that she wasn't going to fall back into his arms again, but he also made it clear that he wouldn't give up. "Not again," he had said.

And now here she was on a bed that still smelled like sex, wondering how her heart was going to survive this.

She must have drifted off because the sun was low in the sky when she awoke to the chime of her doorbell. Fucking Derek.

With her traitor heart racing, she pushed off the covers and made her way to front door. Yanking it open, voice raised and exasperated , she started in on him automatically "I said n—" Darcy stopped short. It wasn't Derek.

"Jake! Hello!" she said, trying to sound natural. Her neighbor was holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a rope in the other.

"Expecting someone else?" Jake asked, one corner of his mouth drawn up in a flirty smile. She could tell he put some effort into cleaning up but it was obvious he'd been outside all day.

"No. I mean...no. Not expecting anyone." She let out a breath, her hair had barely slowed.

"No? I couldn't help but notice Derek was around this morning. You two kids working things out?" Darcy was surprised by the question, Jake was a friendly neighbor but very rarely approached any subjects that could be considered personal. But he had known what a struggle it had been for her to acclimate to life without Derek. He had witnessed it.

Darcy shook her head. "Not at all."

Jake smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "Well, that's good. I got worried that I missed my window." He was joking. She was almost certain he was joking. While it was true sometimes he said things that seemed rather suggestive, it never seemed intentionally flirty, so she couldn't imagine what his interest was. He didn't seem like the type to get caught up in small town gossip.

But two could play at the flirty game. "Well, now, I know the rope must be to tie me up, but Jake, what is the wine for?"

His laugh was deep but musical as he handed her the bottle, stepping inside the doorway but taking care to stay on the doormat. "The wine is from my brother's vineyard. The rope is for Lorelei, she snuck out again."

"Ah," Darcy said, smiling as she glanced down at the bottle. "I'll walk you back there."

Darcy set the bottle of wine down and slipped into a pair of flats before she and Jake started to make their way around the house to the back yard. Sure enough, Lorelei had set up shop by her chicken coop, and Darcy couldn't help but smile at the sight of the goat. She seemed to be especially drawn to the chickens. She briefly considered whether she should get a goat (weren't they a good replacement for a lawn mower) but decided the town might really raise a collective eyebrow on that one. Jake got away with his eccentricities on account of him being an organic farmer, and being deliciously hot probably didn't hurt much, either. There seemed to be no shortage of women at his door, though most of them just left with eggs or vegetables.

Darcy made her way over to the pen and kneeled in front of Lorelei, scratching behind the animal's ears. It became immediately clear this was a mistake.

"Oh. Oh! No, girl." The goat had her shirt.

"Lorelei, no," Jake said, and suddenly he was crouched behind her and Darcy was aware of the warmth of him, the feel of his thighs on either side of her hips, his arms on either side of her shoulders. He was warm and, despite spending most of his time with farm animals, smelled of laundry detergent and soap.

Darcy looked down in horror to see that her scoop neck t-shirt had been pulled far enough toward the goat that a swell of breast was visible. A glance down confirmed that, yup, just inside of her shirt her nipple was visible. All Jake had to do was look down to see that she wasn't wearing a bra. Luckily, he seemed too occupied with Lorelei and her shirt to notice.

"Come on, let go," he said, cramming his fingers into the goat's mouth, which didn't seem like the best idea but was surprisingly effective. Lorelei released and Jake's hand sprang back, his wrist bumping her chest, the backs of his fingers connecting with skin.

Darcy inhaled sharply, felt color rise to her cheeks as warmth flooded first her cheeks, then lower. Her nipples hardened into nubs, and she was sure he must have felt it against the inside of his wrist. He wasn't quick to move, instead reached for her shirt to feel it between his fingers. "Goat spit," he said, indicating the dampness on her shirt. The backs of his fingers brushed the top swell of her breast, though at this point it was hard to be sure it was still unintentional. Goat saliva wasn't the only dampness she found herself dealing with. "I'm sorry."

Darcy drew in a breath, a big breath that pushed her chest closer to his hand. Feeling the increased pressure of his fingers, she squeaked. Yes, she squeaked.

Jake pulled his hand away and cleared his throat, resting his hands on his knees before standing up and looping the rope around Lorelei's neck. Once it was confirmed Lorelei was willing to follow him Jake excused himself. "I should get her back," he said, his eyes meeting hers before momentarily dropping down to breast level and then back up. He showed no response, but surely he noticed the nipple show happening through her t-shirt. "Sorry again about your shirt."

"It happens," Darcy said with a shrug. She tied to be nonchalant when she crossed her arms over her chest, hiding the evidence of her body's reaction to him. His eyes floated down to her breasts for another second before returning to her face.

"Hey, if you aren't busy next Saturday night the guys and I are playing at Big Debbie's. You haven't seen us play, yet, have you?"

She had heard something about Jake being in a band but she hadn't seen them play. Even if she were in the habit of going out, they played most of their shows in the city. Something in his face, the way his eyes searched hers, made her think that he did want her to go. Which made her want to go. Was there something there? Between them? They had been neighbors for two years with not a ton of interaction, save he had been the one to provide her with the chickens and fruits and vegetables delivered to her door.

"I'd love to," Darcy said.

***

"I still can't believe this," Julie grinned. "You're in a real-life love triangle!"

Darcy winced as she wobbled on a decorative stone in the pathway to Big Debbie's. The heels had been a mistake. Wasn't she tall enough already? But then, she had bought the ridiculously expensive shoes after the divorce, desperate for something, anything, to make her feel beautiful. She had wanted a pair of the red-soled brand for years, but ultimately rarely wore them. The first problem being they weren't exactly everyday shoes, as she had bought a pair in snakeskin dyed in psychedelic colors (not your average pair of pumps). The other problem was they were a five inch heel, which pushed her over six feet and into giant territory.

She had dressed in black skinny jeans and a black mock turtleneck sleeveless top to lessen the impact of everything, but she could still feel eyes on her. Not surprising, since she was, once again, the talk of the town. This time it was a mixed blessing, part of the talk was about her barre studio, but the other part were rumors swirling about Derek's new barre habit (which, while it upped attendance in class, was supremely distracting) and the potential that the divorced couple had reconciled. But they were not reconciled. She was not reconciled.

They were late, the band had already started, and Big Debbie's was unusually crowded.

"Do you get to say, 'I'm with the band'?" Julie teased. "I always wanted to be with the band."

"I'm not with the band," Darcy glowered at her. Julie had teased her the whole car ride into Spring Hill's "City Center" (such as it was), but Darcy couldn't be annoyed, she appreciated the distraction. Because was she with the band? Probably not. But maybe? "I'm just supporting my neighbor's musical pursuits."

"Well, that's probably for the best, in all honestly. Jake is the band's songwriter, which is not always great for whomever he's seeing at the time."

They stepped into the bar and she was confronted with a room full of faces she knew, such is life in a small town, but also with faces she didn't recognize. "Who are these people?" She didn't know everyone in town, but she had never seen many of these people in her life.

"They have a big following in surrounding cities," Julie explained. "When they play in town it usually draws a crowd. They're a big deal. I mean, regionally."

Most of the crowd was standing, many with eyes glued on the stage as they swayed with the music. It was not the usual atmosphere at Big Debbie's. Kevin Dart was their lead singer, and no small amount of eyes were on him. Darcy's eyes were drawn to Jake, in particular to the way his fingers moved across the strings of his guitar. She started sweating.

"Hey Darcy!" Nib, whose real name was Caroline, said. Her tray was balanced on one hand as she reached out to touch Darcy's arm, making sure she had her attention. Darcy was grateful for the friendly reception, even if it was from someone who, as a hair stylist and part-time waitress, was kind of required to be friendly. "Is it just the two of you? There's still a table open over by the stage."

She and Julie wandered over closer to the stage and, sure enough, there was a two-seater available. All of the tables were bar height, equipped with stools, so she could have stood comfortably, which seemed to be the preference of the crowd, but her feet were aching so she sat.

The band was surprisingly good, the songs (none she had ever heard, they were most certainly not a cover band) played songs with what she could only describe as a muscularity to them, but with a touch of melancholy that, rather being depressing, was intoxicating. Jake was intoxicating, particularly when his voice came in on backup. Darcy did her best not to stare at him the whole night, but she probably failed. Her certainly caught her looking at him a few times. But then, he wouldn't have if he hadn't been looking at her. The thought gave her a thrill, and she felt it again—that stirring of possibility, and of desire. The lick of heat between her legs, the flood of moisture. She was wet. Dammit.

But her situation got more dire, because something else happened. Kevin started introducing their next song.

"Hey everybody, as you know we like to debut new songs here at home, and tonight is no exception—" as he said this, Kevin was taking off his guitar. Darcy saw Jake's head snap to attention, confusion on his face. Something unplanned was happening. The crowd was clapping, excited, anxious. Someone hooted from the back. "Many of you know Jake is our lyricist, and he's been working on something really special." Kevin glanced at Jake then, who was shaking his head. Kevin smiled jovially. "Now, the rest of the band hasn't learned the music so if you want to hear it—" the clapping got louder, Jake's mouth set in a grim line, "we're going to have to ask Jake for an unplugged performance here while the rest of the band breaks. So—do you want it?"

The roar in the room was surprisingly loud. Jake initially seemed angry, but it dissipated quickly. He stood and switched out to an acoustic guitar. The tone of the whole room changed, the firsts chord played set a new tone, one tinged with longing and softness. She found herself being pulled in, the lyrics painting the portrait of a man wanting a woman and it was sung with such earnestness that she wondered if she had gotten it all wrong. This song was about someone he was involved with. She was immediately embarrassed, felt foolish that she had come here tonight thinking that there could be something between them, that he'd felt something last week. But no, he had someone, He was writing songs about someone.

The song built in intensity until he got to the chorus, where it softened abruptly. But the chorus? The chorus stopped the train of her thoughts in its tracks.

My ex-girl's name upon your lips

My fingers brush against your tits

Your face, the launch of ships

Can't take my eyes off of you

She stole a glance at him, and their eyes met.

Won't take my eyes off of you

It sounded like a promise.

After the song Jake joined the band in their break, and Darcy became aware of each move he made from that point on, only half listening to Julie prattle on about her house remodel. He stopped at the bar first, picked up a beer and started making his way in their direction, receiving about a thousand pats on the backs before he reached her. Julie was just getting to the topic of low-flow toilets when she stopped short, noticing his approach. She raised an eyebrow at Darcy. Darcy studiously avoided meeting her gaze as Jake made it to their table.

"You made it!" he said, glancing back and forth between them before his eyes settled on Darcy. "I'm really glad."

"It's a great show," Darcy said. "You guys are really good. I had no idea."

"Yeah, no, those guys are great."

"The new one, though," she said, unsure whether she to address the song. Her eyes searched his face for clues. "That last song was—"

"Jake!" an excited female voice squealed just before wrapping her arms around him. She was tall, red hair down to her waist with an hourglass shape that was not going unnoticed in the room.

"Lorelei." Jake smiled and hugged her back before taking a step back and resting his arm on the back of Darcy's stool. It was an unconscious gesture, she assumed, one that meant nothing. "Lorelei, meet my neighbor, Darcy, and her friend Julie."

>i>Meet my neighbor. Great.

Darcy spoke without thinking. "You're Lorelei? I wasn't expecting you two to get along." She wanted to snatch the words right back.

Lorelei laughed and rolled her eyes, "I take it you've met that fucking goat." She shook her head and looked pointedly at Jake. "You really need to rename her, Jake, I'm serious."

Jake shrugged, "I can't make her be someone she's not." He gave her a meaningful look.

Lorelei looked unimpressed but dropped the subject. "I'm sorry we're late, you're not done, are you? I didn't miss everything? Traffic coming out here was worse than I expected."

"No, no, just on a break. Speaking of which," he glanced at the stage where a couple of the guys already stood. "I better get back up there."

Lorelei and Jake dispersed, leaving Darcy alone with Julie's expectant gaze. "Well, well, well."

Darcy just shook her head. "I don't know."

**

Darcy couldn't sleep. She had been exhausted when she and Julie left the bar, but once home her nerves got the best of her. She had left before the band finished, hadn't had a chance to interact with Jake again, and as a result her mind was going over the possibilities of the night. If she'd gotten the chance to speak with him, what would they have said? Would he have mentioned the song? Mentioned what he was thinking when he wrote it. She glanced across the street again, but his house was still dark. A glance at the grandfather clock in the hallway told her it was nearly 1 am. She should be sleeping.

As if on cue she saw headlights in the distance. She watched and made a deal with herself: if this wasn't Jake she would go to bed, go to sleep, let him come to her when or if it suited him. But if it was Jake, she would go to him. She would find something to say. She would feel him out. What did he want? What did she want?

Jake's old Land Rover pulled into his driveway. It was him. Fuck. But a deal was a deal. She had a plan (sort of). At least, she had something to follow through on. She set down the glass of wine in the kitchen sink and made her way to her bathroom, swiping on some lip gloss and running a brush through her hair before pulling the oversized T-shirt she liked to sleep in over her head and picked a pair of denim cutoffs and a tank top out of the laundry basket. It was mostly clean. The tank had a built in shelf bra so she went without, though she briefly considered reaching for a black pushup bra that hung off her towel rod. Just a little something extra.

Before she could change her mind she slipped into a pair of flip flops and headed across the street.

When Jake opened the door a bottle of beer dangled from his hand. Her eyes took him in—the five o'clock (1 am?) shadow, dark against tanned skin, eyes as dark as black coffee, the same slim-fit dark jeans he'd worn to the show. That was the only remaining part of the outfit from the show. He was barefoot and shirtless and Darcy felt her breath hitch at the sight of him.

It occurred to her now that, despite seeing him working outside on his property nearly every day, she had never seen him shirtless. Her mouth went dry as her eyes devoured the picture in front of her, the smooth, hairless skin, the washboard abs, the tan skin, and, perhaps most striking of all, one of the most magnificent tattoos she had ever seen. On his shoulder and chest over his heart was a raven, wings back as if about to take off in flight or land, big black wings spread across his shoulder and down his arm, reaching as far as his elbow. Under the raven, coiled on the right side of his torso and disappearing under the waistband of his jeans was a serpent poised and ready to strike. The only color was the gold of both creatures' eyes.

"Darcy?" He said her name like it was a question, and like it was a promise. He was impossibly tan, impossibly cut, impossible. How had she not recognized it before?

"Jake." Her mouth was bone dry, her knees weak. A flush spread over her body, heated the space between her legs and, as if the heat had been stolen from elsewhere in her body, goosebumps appeared on her arms and legs.