Текст книги "Lost and Found"

Автор книги: Nicole Williams

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

I needed something to get my mind off of Jesse. I needed to forget about the way he made me feel. I needed to forget the way he’d just followed after his girlfriend, his female equal. Not just in the looks department, but in the everything-else department.

I didn’t have the looks, the friendly aura, the sweet smile, and I sure as hell didn’t have the not-a-care-in-the-world outlook. In fact, what Jesse and Josie were, I was the opposite. I doubted I could get any more opposite if I tried.

I needed something to make me forget.

Or someone.

Lucky for me, I caught sight of Garth’s black felt hat bouncing above the gate. Sitting on top of one of those bulls.

My stomach barely had time to drop before the gate swung open, and out charged, I kid you not, the biggest bull of them all. He was the Zeus of the bulls, and dammit if he wasn’t out there proving it.

Garth’s body bounced and flailed about like a rag doll’s as Zeus kicked his back legs a few times before spinning. The bull had barely made a full revolution before Garth flew off. Well, it was more like ejecting. Everything about it was violent: the way his arms and legs grabbed at the air, the way his face looked, and the way his body slammed into the dirt. Nothing about this sport wasn’t brutal. Gentle was checked at the gates.

The bull stopped spinning as soon as Garth had been bucked off. He stood for a minute, his entire body heaving, as he and Garth seemed to have some kind of stare down. Just when I couldn’t decide who would be the first to charge, those crazy-ass clowns intervened and got the bull moving toward the open gate at the end of the arena.

The crowd applauded when Garth stood, but that only seemed to make him angrier. I’d seen plenty of shades of pissed, and Garth’s expression definitely made the top ten list. Stomping over to where his hat had landed, he dusted it off before settling it low onto his forehead.

Without so much as a wave or even a look of acknowledgement into the crowd that was still clapping for him, Garth powered out of the dirt arena.

I’d known zilch about bull riding coming into the rodeo, but I’d picked up enough to know his ride hadn’t made it to the buzzer. I wasn’t sure if that meant he received a reduced score or no score, but either way, I knew he wouldn’t leave with a shiny, new belt buckle.

I knew what failing was like. If I was an expert at anything, it was failing. I wasn’t sure if Garth wanted to see anyone right away, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. I’d seen enough bull riding for one night, and I certainly didn’t want to be in that seat when Jesse came back with a flushed face and a satisfied smile. No, thank you.

I was out of my seat and down the stairs in a flash. I didn’t know exactly where he’d be, but I headed in the direction of a bunch of cowboy hats bobbing above the gate on the opposite side of the arena. I was pretty sure one of those black ones had to be his.

I got a few curious looks as I wove toward the pack of cowboys with numbers on their backs. Maybe I was heading into an “off limits” area, but since no one stopped me, I kept going.

Ducking under a rope, I headed for a familiar back. Sporting his signature color on everything from his boots to his chaps, his body was still rigid, but he had a beer in his hands. All had to be somewhat well in the universe.

There was a good-sized crowd around Garth, all about the same age and sipping on their own beers, likely commiserating the woes of bull riding, when I stopped a few feet behind him.

“I don’t know who looked more pissed off out there,” I said. “You or the bull.”

Garth twisted around. He had a serious scowl on his face. That was, until he took one look at me. His eyes skimmed up and down me once, then repeated. When his eyes finished on mine, they were ice. “This is a rodeo, sweetheart. Not the circus.” His voice was just as icy.

I flinched. At least on the inside. It took everything inside of me to keep from wincing on the outside. “Excuse me, Garth I-can’t-stay-on-a-bull-for-longer-than-two-seconds Black? And thanks for remembering to leave me a ticket, asshole.” I was about to spin away and get the hell out of there when a single chuckle rolled out of him.

“Rowen?” he said, like he couldn’t have been anymore dumbfounded. “Holy shit. I knew you were troubled, I just didn’t think this troubled.” He waved his hands up and down my way and shook his head. “I might be able to overlook the hot mess if you’re as freaky in bed as you dress.”

He wasn’t saying anything I hadn’t heard before, but he’d taken me by surprise. I was always on guard for those kinds of cruel words and nasty names, but I’d let that wall fall sometime recently. Each of his words hit me in a sore spot. Each of them would leave a permanent scar. That was why I didn’t let my walls down. Not even for a second because the moment I did, I was reminded why I’d built them in the first place.

Making sure those walls were back in place before I replied, I glared at him. “I knew you were a poser, I just didn’t realize how much of one until I saw that sorry excuse for a ride out there.” He might have known where I hid my emotional underbelly, but I guessed where he hid his, too. Rodeo. Winning. Proving he wasn’t a failure. Proving to himself and to everyone else.

From the expression darkening his face, I knew I’d hit the right spot. “Why don’t you get the hell out of here?” he said before pointing for the exit. “You’re confusing everyone.” He cupped his hand over his mouth and shouted, “No, people! It’s not Halloween! It’s just our resident freak who’s really letting that freak flag fly tonight!”

Shit. That would have done some damage if those trusty walls of mine weren’t back up. I’d known from the start Garth was one of those troubled, angry souls, but I never guessed he was the cruel, downright nasty type.

Dropping his hand, he took a sip of his beer. That predatory look in his eyes returned. “You know, when teachers told us not to be afraid to be who we are, you really shouldn’t have listened.”

The rest of the guys around him chuckled. A few tried to hide their amusement, but the majority didn’t. I hated being laughed at. I hated being seen as a joke. I hated feeling the way I did then. I turned to rush for the exit, when a body plowed past me.

“Shut the hell up, Garth.” Jesse squared himself a foot in front of Garth and very intentionally looked down at him.

“And what makes you think I’d listen to anything you say?” Garth replied, his voice and expression lazy and unimpressed.

Jesse’s fists clenched and unclenched. “Because I know, and you know, I’d have no problem shutting you up if you don’t want to do this the easy way.”

Those words, or that warning, hung in the air for a moment. The rest of the guys around Garth stepped back a few feet. Maybe to give those two space to duke it out if it came to that, or maybe just because they feared the quivering mass of muscle that was Jesse Walker. Whatever the reason, those guys were ten times smarter than Garth Black. He just stood there, staring back at Jesse and taking swigs of his beer.

“Go ahead,” Garth said after a solid minute of their silent stare down. “She’s all yours tonight. I’ll take my turn later.” Glancing my way with a look of disgust, he shook his head. “It’s not exactly like she’s shiny and new.”

“What did you just say?” Jesse fumed, stepping into Garth. They would have been nose to nose if they were the same height. “What did you say, you little piece of shit?”

It was the first time I’d heard Jesse curse with real emotion. Other than that time in the kitchen, which seemed like the kiddie pool in comparison to what was going down, I hadn’t seen Jesse’s lid about to fly off.

I had turned him into a seething, cursing, crazed man. I’d been the one to make him lose his cool. Sure, what Garth had said and did really set him off, but my being there, being the target of Garth’s words and being who I was, had set the fire to the flame raging in front of me.

I wasn’t sure if I’d ever had a less proud moment.

I’d screwed up enough. I’d done what Rowen Sterling did best and made a shit-storm of everything. Enough for one night. Before the guys said another word, I spun around and rushed the hell away. Maybe once I was gone, they could forgive, forget, shake hands, and share a couple of beers. That’s what guys did, right?

Once I was outside the fairgrounds, in the dark and quiet, I felt comfortable. Like I could breathe again. As much as I’d tried to fight it, the dark and quiet was home to me. The only place I felt accepted.

The air was a bit cooler than when I’d arrived, but by the time I’d speed walked a few hundred feet down the road, my body was so warm I rolled up the sleeves of my hoodie. I made a note to remember a flashlight the next time I planned on walking at night. Out in the sticks, there weren’t such things as street lights. If not for the clear sky and almost full moon, I would have been lost in no time.

The crickets were really chirping, and for the first time since arriving at Willow Springs, I found the sound soothing. I’d kept my windows shut for the past week because those little buggers made a lot of noise, and for a city girl used to being serenaded by car horns and sirens, trying to fall asleep to a cricket chorus was like trying to fall asleep with a fog horn going off a few inches from my ear.

But I’d grown to like the crickets. In one week’s time, I’d been converted.

The country was slowly making its way inside me. First the people out there who, other than Garth Black, had to have some of the biggest hearts on the planet, and the crickets. I had a feeling I was on a slippery slope.

I was maybe a mile down the road and a million miles down my thought-path when I heard a car approaching. Well, a truck approaching.

The driver dimmed the headlights as they approached. The truck wasn’t familiar to me, so I knew I should probably duck into the field and run, but if the person inside that truck wanted to catch me, they were close enough running wouldn’t matter. Plus, I could qualify as the world’s slowest runner. The clodhopper boots didn’t help.

The driver’s window whirred down, and a sweet smile greeted me. “If Jesse knew you were out here walking all by yourself, he would bust something,” Josie said, slowing the truck to keep pace with me.

“He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t need to know,” I replied. “So no need to worry about Jesse busting anything.” My eyes drifted automatically to the bed of her truck, and my stomach twisted. “And didn’t you leave a while ago?”

“I did. Until I realized I’d left my purse behind.”

You left your boyfriend behind, too I almost added.

“Hop on in,” she said with a tilt of her head. “I’ll give you a ride. Willow Springs is on my way.”

I thought about that for all of a second. I still had a few miles left to go, I was exhausted physically and emotionally, and I knew the rodeo was close to finishing. Jesse and the Walkers would drive down the road soon, and they would pull over the instant they saw me. I didn’t want to be pressed up against Jesse in a car any more than I did earlier.

“Are you sure?” I asked, already crossing toward the truck.

“Sure as sure can be,” she replied.

Josie’s truck was nice. It was shiny red, and even though it didn’t seem to have a lift on it, I had to jump to get into the passenger seat.

“Thanks,” I said as I snapped my buckle into place. “I wasn’t really thinking when I walked to the rodeo tonight. I guess it slipped my mind I’d have to make a return trip, too.” I glanced down at my boots. I might have ticked off some miles in my day, but ten miles in the span of an evening was a bit ambitious. I already felt a couple blisters on my heels.

“Lord knows I’ve done plenty of things I didn’t really think about either,” she replied as she hit the gas. The truck was one of those loud ones, too. “Things way worse than not wearing the right shoes to walk in.” It was dark inside the cab, but Josie’s face visibly shadowed.

Miss Peaches and Cream had secrets, too. She’d made mistakes she regretted. I knew everyone did in theory, but sometimes that theory didn’t seem to apply to people like Josie.

“Yeah. Me, too.” There was a whole encyclopedia-sized record of the screw ups and mistakes I’d made in a mere eighteen years of living.

Another few seconds of silence ticked off before Josie’s face cleared. That smile that seemed as permanently embedded on her face as Jesse’s was on his reformed. As much as I wanted to dislike her, I couldn’t. “Do you have a boyfriend?” she asked.

I huffed. “Hell, no.”

“Why not?”

Might as well be honest with the girl. “I’ve been with so many pieces of shit, I’ve lost count. That’s why.”

Josie peered over at me. “Sometimes a girl needs to be with a piece of shit—”

“Or fifty,” I muttered.

“—so she recognizes when one who isn’t comes along.” She lifted her shoulders. “The more experience you have with P.O.S., the better equipped you are to identify one who isn’t.”

I nodded as I wondered what those words would look like tattooed across my forehead. It could change a lot of girls’ lives.

“So what did you think of the rodeo?” Josie moved from one topic to the next so quickly I was about to get whiplash.

It sucked ass.

“It was . . . interesting,” I settled on. Interesting was a versatile word and my go-to when I didn’t want to admit the truth.

“Yeah, I’d imagine it’s pretty barbaric seeming if you weren’t raised on rodeo,” she said.

There were definitely barbaric low points, but they had nothing to do with the actual rodeo.

I shrugged my reply.

“Are you going to the big summer dance and barbecue next week?”

“Since this is the first I’m hearing of it, I don’t think so.” After that night, I would make staying away from the cowboy masses a top priority.

“You’ve got to go. Everyone’s invited. There’s a ton of good food, some good, old country music,”—I cringed at the “good” part of country music—“cute cowboys, and a really good time. Come. You can hang out with me and the girls. If you don’t want to drive over in the Walker caravan, I could pick you up. Or Jesse could give you a ride in Old Bessie. Although that’s an experience I’m sure you can live without.”

“Unfortunately, Old Bessie and I are already acquainted,” I said. “But you’re right. That was an experience I could have done without.” The Old Bessie part, not so much the Jesse part.

“You’ve been in Jesse’s truck?”

I didn’t miss the subtle nuance there. It was Old Bessie before she learned I’d been a passenger in her boyfriend’s truck. Then it became Jesse’s truck.

“Eh, yeah,” I said, wondering if it was too early in the ride to stick my foot in my mouth. “Just one time though. When he picked me up at the bus station. I haven’t ridden in it since. I haven’t even seen it.” Jesse in the bed of his truck that night outside the barn jumped to mind. I’d been a cowboy-stalking Peeping Tom that night. Probably not something I should admit to her. “I mean, I haven’t seen his truck running, with him in it, since that first day.”

Oh, dear God. Strike me mute before I said anything else. Maybe that was why I pushed people away: It was a defense mechanism to keep myself from going on like a blubbering idiot.

Josie gave me a curious look, but that was it. “No big surprise since Old Bessie isn’t a big fan of running. At least not consistently.” She laughed, and I couldn’t help but join in. If I couldn’t laugh about something like Jesse’s truck, there was no hope for me.

“So? Are you going to come?” she asked once we’d stopped giggling like a couple of girls.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, grabbing the handle above the window and hanging on for dear life as Josie took a right turn at forty miles per hour. And I’d thought Jesse drove like a maniac. Apparently speed limits and road rules didn’t apply to country kids.

“What’s there to think about?” she asked as the bed of her truck fishtailed when she punched the gas coming out of the turn. “Music. Barbeque. Dancing. Cute boys in tight jeans. There is nothing about that line up that needs thinking about.”

I agreed with at least one of the four things there.

“Yeah . . . well,”—I bit my lip and decided how much to say—“I don’t think I’d fit in very well at that kind of thing.” That summed it up without going into too many details.

“Says who?” she said instantly.

“Garth,” I admitted.

I couldn’t tell if Josie was cringing or shuddering, but if someone could dislike Garth Black as much as I did after tonight, it was Josie. The fact that we weren’t fans of the same guy made me feel some sort of sisterhood with her. Like we were sisters in boy tastes. The more I thought about that, the truer it was. We didn’t just dislike the same guy; we both liked the same guy.

“What did that asshole do, say, or ruin?” Her voice took on a certain chill. I wouldn’t have guessed Josie had the word “asshole” in her repertoire. We really did share some kind of sisterhood.

“Just some asshole thing . . .” I started. “About me being a freak. Or dressing like one. I don’t really know. Or care.” I lied. I usually didn’t care about the constant name-calling, but when it came to Garth—a guy I thought liked me—the names cut me more than usual.

“I’m going to tell you something, Rowen, and I want you to really hear me out. Okay?” Damn. Her hands were almost shaking over the steering wheel. “Don’t let a guy like Garth Black ruin your summer. And don’t let him ruin your life. Guys like that, people past the point of saving, have only one goal—to take as many others down with them as they can. And they’re good at it.”

I certainly hadn’t expected to get a sermon from Josie on the evil ways of Garth Black when I’d jumped into her truck, but I was kinda digging it.

“Okay, Rowen? Steer clear of Garth, and if he gives you a hard time, let Jesse know. He’ll take care of it.” She looked over at me and lifted her eyebrows. She was obviously waiting for a response.

“O. Kay,” I said dramatically, giving her a salute. After what he’s said, I’d dodge Garth as much as Willow Springs would allow. Speaking of Willow Springs . . .

We pulled into the driveway. The house was dark except for the porch lights and that lone lamp shining in the window. We’d beat the Walkers home, so all I had to do was rush upstairs and lock myself in my room before they got back. I wasn’t in the mood to recap the night, and I really wasn’t in the mood to see Jesse.

“Thanks again for the ride, Josie,” I said before leaping out of the truck.

“Anytime.” She inspected the Walkers’ house. When her eyes drifted up to my second floor bedroom window, her expression fell. I only hoped it wasn’t because she was clairvoyant and knew I’d checked her guy out from that window. “If I don’t see you before, I expect to see you at that dance or else I’ll come and drag you there.”

It was a full week away. An eternity. So I shrugged and said, “I’ll make sure to wear my non-freak wear.”

“Wear whatever the hell you want,” she replied.

Flashing her a wave, I closed the door and headed up the porch. The girl reversed out of the driveway as fast as she drove forward down it.

Once I was inside, I was up the stairs and in my room as fast as my booted and blistered feet could carry me. It was late, I was tired, and all I wanted to do was get into bed and put the day in the delete folder. But first, I needed pajamas.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t listened to Rose when she’d reminded me to bring my laundry down. In the midst of the sunrise-to-sunset work, doing one more chore at the end of the day just hadn’t been a priority. As I pawed through my drawers, unable to find one article of clothing that could work as sleepwear, I realized I should have made personal laundry duty a priority.

Live and learn.

Desperate, I slid open the bottom drawer. I knew it would be empty—the top drawers had enough space to hold my clothes—but I had to check.

And the heavens opened and rained down pajama shirts.

It wasn’t mine, but one folded white undershirt was in the back corner of the drawer. I pulled it out and gave it a whiff. It was fresh.

I lifted it and let it unfold in front of me. Clean, too.

My pajama dilemma was solved.

Sliding out of my freak-wear, according to Garth Black, I slipped into the white tee. It went down to my knees, and I was pretty sure I could fit two more Rowens inside of it, but I wasn’t complaining.

I couldn’t crawl into bed fast enough, and after a couple of minutes, I was out.

I FELL ASLEEP fast no problem. The staying asleep, not so much. I didn’t know what time it was, but it was still dark and the house was quiet. Sneaking a peek at my phone, I saw it was just past midnight. I’d barely slept for two whole hours, and from the way I felt, I doubted I could fall asleep again anytime soon.

I threw the covers off and headed for the window. Maybe the crickets would lull me back to sleep.

A rush of cool air burst inside my room, instantly filling it with the scent of grass and the sound of those crickets. I stood at the window and breathed in a few slow breaths. The Walkers’ Suburban was in its usual spot, and from the looks of the bunkhouse, everyone was asleep. Except for me.

I crawled back into bed, closed my eyes, and tried to fall back asleep. Try being the operative word. I was about two minutes into failing to sleep when strange, creaking sounds started outside my window. Not even a second later, something crawled inside said window.

Well, someone crawled inside.

Instead of screaming bloody murder, I rolled across the bed, grabbed one of my boots, and took aim. The boot circled through the air and couldn’t have landed in a better spot: right in the side of the person’s face.

The dark shadow huffed in surprise, or maybe pain, and rose to a full stand. I’d picked a Goliath-sized monster to pick a fight with. Not my finest moment.

I was just readying those vocal chords for what I should have done instead of reaching for my boot when the figure came closer.

“Good aim.” The voice was so familiar I didn’t need a light to identify who stood in my room. But I still switched the bedside lamp on.

“Jesse!” I managed to shriek quietly since three sleeping girls were close by. “What the hell?”

“Quick question,” he said, lifting his finger while he rubbed the spot where I’d clocked him with his other hand.

“What?” I said, wondering what in the world Jesse Walker was doing in my room after midnight.

“Are you planning on throwing anything else at me?”

“Not as long as you don’t scare the living shit out of me again,” I said, finally calm enough to give him more than a quick look.

My eyes almost popped out of my head.

He was in his pajamas, too: a pair of navy blue sweats cut off at the knees, along with . . . absolutely nothing else. No shirt, no shoes, no hat. It was the least cowboy-fied I’d ever seen Jesse, and even though he was sexy six ways to Sunday in his cowboy gear, this look was hard to beat.

Probably had something to do with all of the tanned, muscled flesh on display.

“Rowen? Is something wrong?” He sounded like he was about to start snapping his fingers in front of my face. “Because your eyes are doing something kind of crazy right now.”

That’s because you’re practically naked and were descended from gods.

I almost had to slap my face to clear my dazed expression. “Other than you leaping into my room in the middle of the night? No, nothing’s wrong.” I had to look away or I was sure my eyes would go crossed. My eyes landed on the window. “And how in the hell did you get in here?” I rushed to the window. Yep, just how I’d remembered its location before Superman soared in: two stories up, straight up. No roofline, trellis, or ladder to climb. Nothing other than siding. So if he didn’t have Superman DNA, it was Spiderman DNA.

Jesse appeared beside me and stuck his head out the window with me. His shoulder rubbed against mine. The innocent graze practically undid me. “You’re looking in the wrong direction,” he said, tilting his head up. I did the same.

All I saw was the outline of the roof and another window set right below where the roofline came together. I’d never noticed it before. It was a bit smaller than my window, but a light shone from it, too. Jesse Walker had been sleeping ten feet above me the whole time.

“Holy shit.”

“You guessed how I did it yet?” he asked eagerly. Thankfully, he’d guessed my shock had to do with how he’d gotten from point A to point my B.edroom. I suppose I was still in some shock about that whole feat, but most of it was focused on the fact he’d been right above my sleeping head the whole time.

“I’m guessing it had something to do with lunacy,” I replied. I really had no logical explanation for how he’d scaled down almost ten feet without the aid of a rope or a ladder or pixie dust.

Jesse nudged me with that arm I was ever so aware of running down the length of mine. “Maybe a little bit of lunacy, but a whole lot of skill, too. But, come on. Aren’t you at least going to make a guess as to how I did it?”

I opened my mouth.

“Something not having to do with lunacy, maybe?” he interjected.

Okay, I could do this. Pushing all lunacy, superhero DNA, and miracles aside, I tried to put it together. Jesse’s window to my window. Nothing but a whole lot of white cedar siding and one cobblestone chimney a couple feet to the side . . .

“Oh, dear God.” I felt my stomach drop as I scanned the chimney. It ran from the ground up past the rooftop. Right by my window, right by Jesse’s. “Please tell me you didn’t—”

“Climb down the side of the chimney?” He studied the chimney with me and grinned. “Yeah. I did.”

If he lost a foot or hand hold, he would have fallen a good twenty feet. There weren’t any sharp projectiles or concrete landings below, but still. Best case scenario was some broken bones and internal bleeding. Worst case was a one way ticket to the hereafter.

“And the bull riders are supposed to have some kind of death wish?”

Jesse chuckled. “I’ve done it dozens of times, and the nice thing about the chimney is that it’s predictable. You don’t have to wonder which way it’s going to spin, or how high it’s going to buck.”

“Ha. Ha,” I said humorlessly. I saw very little humor in the situation. Sure, Jesse was standing beside me, talking to me, rubbing his fine, next-to-naked body against mine, but if he needed to see me so badly, why didn’t he just come through my door?

“Why in the world did you do that?” I couldn’t stare out the window any longer. In fact, I’d never stare out of it the same way again.

“Because I needed to talk to you, and I didn’t get to finish what I needed to say tonight,” he said, ducking back into the room. “I’ve been trying to talk to you all darn week, but you’ve been dodging me like a calf on branding day.”

I pursed my lips to keep from laughing. He was being serious, and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but really? Like a calf on branding day? I’d most certainly never heard that before and doubted I ever would again outside of Willow Springs.

“This whole week, your window’s been closed, so when I heard it finally open, I decided to make my move. Because, Rowen, I need to talk to you whether you want to talk back or not. I need to explain a couple of things. I might have gone about this the wrong way by bursting through your window at night, but you didn’t really leave me another choice.”

I kept pursing my lips together. Jesse all flustered and rambling was adorable and appealing on so many levels, but he’d misunderstood my question.

“Not Why? as in why did you need to see me so badly, but Why? as in why didn’t you just knock on my door?” I plopped down on the edge of my bed and tried really hard to keep my eyes on his. When his hands moved to his hips, that feat became next to impossible.

“Because you wouldn’t have answered and because I didn’t want to worry about waking my sisters. And because I didn’t want to worry about answering their questions as to what I was doing knocking on your door at night. And because I could climb that chimney blindfolded. And because I was really hoping to impress you with my mad chimney climbing skills.” Jesse’s dimples emerged. My throat went dry. “So, are you impressed?”

Men and their need to impress. Looking from him to the window, back to him, I said, “Consider me sufficiently impressed.”

His dimples drilled a little deeper with his smile. “I’d say my work here is done, except it’s really only started.” The skin between his eyebrows came together as he studied my big nightshirt.

Two and two came together right as his face ironed out. “Nice shirt,” he said, looking a little smug.

“At least I’m wearing one,” I said, giving him the briefest once-over I could manage.

“I was out of fresh shirts,” he said, lifting his shoulders. “You’re lucky I wasn’t out of fresh shorts.”

Yeah, that burn in my throat? It was from the flames erupting in my stomach.

“No, you’re lucky,” I said. “I’ve heard cobblestone chaffing is really uncomfortable.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he said, followed by a chuckle. “But, really. Next time you want to borrow one of my shirts, all you have to do is ask me. You don’t have to steal it when I’m not looking.”

I could tell from his face he was teasing, but I wasn’t in a teasing mood. “I didn’t steal it. It was in one of the drawers in my dresser. The–”

“Bottom one,” Jesse finished my thought.

My suspicion that Jesse was clairvoyant seemed more and more likely. “How did you know that?”

“Because that’s where I kept them.” He shrugged and crossed his arms. I loved when he crossed his arms. I loved it even more when he was shirtless. “I must have left one behind.”

“Left one behind? Are you in the habit of leaving your things in random dresser drawers throughout the house?”

“Nope, but I try to make it a habit to leave my things in my dresser drawers.”

“Your dresser drawer?” I repeated slowly, grabbing the comforter to cover my legs. The shirt had seemed large before, but having Jesse look at me that way made me feel all kinds of exposed.

“Well, yeah.” He spread his arms and did a spin. “This is my room.”