Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
“I thought I’d find you out here. Going for a ride so close to supper?”
Ella finished saddling up Lady, her Appaloosa mare, before turning toward her mother. “I need some alone time to think.”
Deb Hawkins stood just inside the stables, and even though Ella knew supper was most likely already in the oven, her mom was still wearing the gingham apron Ella had made for her in eighth grade. “It’s Paris, sweetheart. Rochella.” She gestured for her to come closer, like she was ten and not over thirty. “Do I want you to fly halfway across the world and live in France until June? No. But how can you turn down that opportunity? This is your dream.”
Ella shook her head and removed her cowgirl hat, setting it against her thigh. “Fashion is my hobby. Not my dream.”
“Call it what you want, but you kept that Instagram blog, or whatever it’s called, a secret from us. You started posting your designs for the world to see for a reason. You wanted to be seen. And, baby girl, this is your chance to be seen by more than fifty-nine people.”
“Sixty,” Ella said, smiling at the memory of Henry’s words and his charm.
Lady slowly walked alongside Ella and nudged her with her muzzle as if to say, I’ll miss you. Don’t go.
Ella faced her mare. Lady had been a birthday gift from her father a few years ago. She’d already had the name, and Ella hadn’t wanted to change it, even if it wasn’t all that original. But she was her “Lady” now. “I should get to riding, or I’ll be late for supper.”
“Just tell me something.” Her mom stepped forward and secured a hand around Ella’s jean-jacket-covered arm. “Are you hesitating because you think Jesse will finally get his head out of his rear end and kiss you if you stay?”
“Tell me how you really feel,” Ella said with a laugh, more so to hide the pain that threatened to creep into her tone. “I think that ship has sailed, Mom. He’s never gonna come around.”
“You know, I still have all of your diaries from middle school and high school. I found them under your bed forever and a day ago and put them in a box.” She gently squeezed Ella’s arm before letting go. “I didn’t read them, but I can imagine there was only one name scrawled inside. Well, maybe his and Patrick Swayze’s.” She gave her a gentle smile.
Add pity to the list of things Ella hated, especially when it came from her tough-as-nails mother. Her brothers all said Ella was the toughest in the family. Hardly. Especially where Jesse was concerned.
“You can’t exactly throw a stone anywhere in this town without hitting someone who thinks you two should be married. Or that it should have been Jesse’s ring on your finger instead of Brian’s,” her mom went on. “I don’t think that ship has sailed, sweetheart. I just think Jesse is moving slower than what even us Southerners would define as slow.” She frowned this time. “He refused to watch you marry Brian. The look on his face when he stormed out of the rehearsal dinner said volumes.”
“Maybe. But he didn’t beg me not to walk down that aisle.”
“Same difference.” Her mom tightened the knot at the back of the apron as Ella continued to stroke Lady’s shoulder. Her stunning mare was white with dark spots that flowed over the length of her body, known as the leopard pattern. Ella would miss her while in Paris, but she was certain even Lady would understand her reasons for going. Lady knew when Ella was feeling sad. Or just a whole lot of hurt.
“I think you should go to Paris. Give Jesse some time to miss you.”
“The man has had more than half his life to miss me. Fourteen years in the Army, and even when he left the military and returned home, he was always coming and going.” She wasn’t sure where he disappeared to from time to time, but he always came back. And then, coincidence maybe, Jesse’s weird disappearance acts stopped the day Ella called off the wedding.
Of course, recently, he’d surprised everyone by joining Falcon Falls Security, which was headquartered in Pennsylvania.
From what A.J. had told Ella about the security firm’s leaders, Carter and Gray, they’d found themselves in a hilarious rock-paper-scissors argument at one of A.J.’s teammates’ weddings that fall. They’d both wanted to recruit the Army veteran, Oliver Lucas, and their tug-of-war over the man led to Carter and Gray combining forces to create Falcon Falls.
According to Savanna, since Jesse didn’t exactly open up about any-freaking-thing, Falcon also had “secret” sites around the globe courtesy of their boss, Carter Dominick. Carter was the only man Ella had met that gave off an even more mysterious vibe than Jesse.
“Jesse didn’t have an easy life growing up,” her mom abruptly announced. “And you know his dad basically forced him into the Army at eighteen.”
There was something in her mom’s eyes that said she knew more than she was letting on. “What is it?” Ella lowered her hand from Lady and closed the bit of space between her and her mom. “Rory would have said something if . . . well, if there was something to say.” She gulped, searching her brain for childhood memories that would’ve been a red flag for this “not an easy life” Jesse might have experienced.
“I’ve known Jesse since he was born, and his mom is my best friend. Best friends tell each other everything.”
“So I’ve been told,” Ella said under her breath, recalling the mini-lecture from Rory and Savanna that morning before Henry Rochella had shown up with a too-good-to-be-true offer.
Her mom palmed Ella’s cheek. “Not every family is as perfect as they let everyone think. And in this social media age, I think everyone now has the capability of photoshopping all the bad stuff out to make things picture-perfect.”
What was that supposed to mean? What cryptic insanity was this? What happened to Jesse? “Mom, tell me.”
“Not my secret to share. Just don’t be so fast to judge Jesse is all I’m saying.” She pulled her hand away and turned, and Ella followed her mom’s gaze to see Jesse striding toward the stables. “Well, looks like someone else wants to have a talk with you. Does he know about Paris?”
“Not yet.” Her shoulders fell at the idea of being alone with him for the second time today. She wasn’t sure if she had the energy to be mad at him.
Also, what in Sam Hill had her mom been talking about?
“Supper is in thirty. Your ride better be short.” Her mom waved to Jesse as she exited the stables.
“Ma’am,” Jesse said with a respectful tip of his head, removing his cowboy hat in the process.
He’d cleaned up since that morning. His slightly wild dark blond hair, more brown than blond except in the summer, was pushed back away from his face with gel. He had on a button-up jean shirt with black denim jeans and his dark cowboy boots. When Jesse’s eyes locked on to Ella’s face, he repositioned his black hat.
“I assume you decided to come to dinner,” she said, placing her left foot in the stirrup and mounting her horse with ease, deciding she’d rather get in some riding than talk to Jesse right now.
With the reins held loosely, she rested her hands atop the horn of the saddle and gave Jesse a look that conveyed in no uncertain terms that the conversation was over before it’d even begun.
“Can you wait? I need to talk to you.” He looked up at her from his stance next to Lady’s head and began to reach out, but Lady, as if sensing Ella’s irritation, pulled her muzzle away with a snort.
Good girl.
Ella snapped her eyes shut. Jesse had whispered good girl to her during their spicier encounters that weekend in New York. His hot voice had flowed over the shell of her ear every time she’d obeyed his command not to orgasm until he’d given her permission.
Yeah, she needed to find that inner fireball and fast before she floundered in a pool of drool at the memories of his hot naked body on top of hers.
“Ella, this is important.” Jesse’s growly voice stole her attention from the past.
“I have something important to share too. But you can hear the news at supper with everyone else.” At that moment, she had two choices. Go to Paris until June or stay in Alabama and pine for a man who’d never commit. So, she’d accept Henry’s offer and somehow make the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity work with her teaching job.
“What news? Tell me now.” There was desperation in his voice, and it was only then that she noticed something was off. More off than normal too. He looked . . . scared. That wasn’t a look she was used to seeing him wear.
He approached her mare again, and Ella was grateful the stables were empty of any of the ranch hands right now. Or her brothers.
A.J. was somewhere on the property with his wife and baby. And Rory and her husband, Chris, were there. Savanna and Griffin. Her brothers Caleb, Shep, and Beckett were moseying around somewhere too. Then there was Beckett’s daughter, McKenna. They had a full house today.
“We’ll talk after my ride. Not here,” Ella decided, then let Lady know she was ready to ride, and Lady swiftly maneuvered around their roadblock, Jesse.
“Wait. Don’t go,” Jesse hollered, but she didn’t bother to look back.
Move forward. Keep going forward.
Once on a trail and far enough away from the stables, she had Lady pick up her speed a little. At the sound of hoofs behind her, she tossed a quick look back to see Jesse on one of their Arabian horses. Of course, Jesse was barebacking it. No saddle. Jesse had the skills to ride like that, but it’d quickly fatigue both him and the horse. Right now, she cared a lot more about the horse than the jerk riding him.
“What do you think, Lady? Do we stop and see what that jackass wants?” At least her anger was back. Her preferred mood when dealing with said jackass.
Ella slowed and had Lady quickly turn and stop in her tracks to face Jesse closing in on them. “You act like I’m in danger. I grew up around cowboys. I know how to ride,” she said once he closed the gap. “I’m safe.”
“No, you’re not safe,” he damn near barked out, and why did she get the feeling he wasn’t talking about riding right now.
He got off his horse and offered her a hand to dismount. She stared at him, her thoughts swirling in the chilly breeze.
“It’s nippy out here.” She rolled that word around in her mouth a time or two, avoiding the six-foot-one tower of frustration waiting for her. “Nippy. Ha. You know, I just now realized why people say that when it’s cold outside,” she tossed out while peering down at her open jean jacket, finding her nipples standing at attention and quite noticeable behind the lace bra and top. Great.
“Ella, please.” There was that sense of urgency in his tone again.
“Did Rory tell you about Paris?” Ella sputtered. “Did she tell you about Henry?” That had to be why he was acting like a lunatic. Maybe Rory had an angry encounter with her brother, and it accidentally slipped out?
“Paris?” Jesse slowly pulled his hand back, removed his hat, and clutched it to his chest as if he’d just learned someone had unexpectedly died, a solemn look crossing his face. Until that look transformed into one of anger. “Who the hell is Henry?”
Ella let go of a deep exhalation, patted Lady’s neck, and swung her right leg over the saddle to step down. But when Jesse’s hands landed on her hips to assist her, she went still. “Please don’t touch me,” she said softly. Her anger had suddenly morphed into uncertainty, and she hated that it made her sound weak.
Jesse released her and waited for her to face him. “I need to know what you’re talking about now. Not at supper.”
“I’ve been offered an opportunity of a lifetime to go to Paris. A fashion, um, thing.” God, with his heated gaze crushing her under its fierce intensity, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to get through this. While she rambled off the details Henry had told her that morning, Jesse slowly narrowed the space between them to mere inches, then drew his hand in the air as if he were tracing the contour of her cheek without actually touching her.
He stared at her for another long, quiet moment. “You can’t go.”
“I’m sorry. I think I just hallucinated.” She also thought she might be channeling Reese Witherspoon as Elle Woods in Legally Blonde, so she kept on going. “You don’t have any say about what I do, Jesse McAdams. And I don’t recall asking for your permission.”
His lips twitched, and he leaned forward, hat still at his chest as he angled his head, holding her eyes. “You. Are. Not. Going,” he said darkly, his voice thick with intent. The “do not cross me” kind, which would most definitely be dangerous for anyone else. She considered him harmless. Well, aside from crumpling her heart like a piece of trash.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you of all people ought to know you lost the right to even offer your input into my life a long time ago.” Keep your shit together. Don’t let him see your tears. He’s not worth it .
“As of today,” he continued, his ice-blue eyes trained on her face, “I’m in charge of your safety. Every move you make will be subject to my approval. And you’re sure as hell not going to Paris. End of story.”
“Why not throw a ‘fuck’ in there for added emphasis?” she rasped, anger once again swapping seats with her sadness. “How about I try it?” She snatched his hat and shifted it away from his chest so she could walk her fingers up his wall of muscle, then settled her palm over his heart. It was beating fast and erratically. “You’re not in charge of me in any aspect. You don’t get to tell me what to do. And I am going to Paris. End of fucking story.”
“Ella Mae,” he said through clenched teeth as he reached out and cupped her chin, “you don’t have any idea what I’m capable of, and you don’t want to find out.”
Chills chased over her spine from what felt like a threat, which was the last thing she’d ever expect from the man who kept trying to protect her from everything but that broken heart.
“Don’t test me,” he growled out.
“Or what?” she snapped, pulling her hand back, but he was quicker. The palm that’d cupped her chin now grasped her wrist. “And why do you always have to be such a dick?”
“Why do you have to be so damn mouthy?” he shot back, then his forehead relaxed a little as if he’d lost sight of why they’d been talking. “There are no measures I won’t take in the name of keeping you safe. So, if I have to tie you up myself and hide you somewhere to stop you from going to Paris, so be it.”
Normally, Ella would have laughed off the kidnapped-by-Jesse thing. It sounded like a plot from one of Savanna’s mafia romance novels.
But she knew he wasn’t kidding around, and she didn’t think it was Paris that had him spooked. He’d looked haunted before she’d revealed that. Hell, ever since . . . “Who was that at your place this morning? And try the truth this time.”
“The less you know, the better.” He unhanded her and shook his head, apparently snapping free of some weird spell. It was like he’d been possessed by some dark force and was suddenly Jesse again.
Though, what did her trip to Paris have to do with anything?
“Tell me what’s going on, damn it,” she demanded. But when he remained silent, she turned and started for Lady. Ella hadn’t taken more than two steps before he hooked her waist to stop her, causing her to trip on a rock. She went sailing, along with the hat on her head and Jesse’s hat in her hand.
How Jesse wound up sliding under her and cushioning her fall, she had no idea. How was it possible for a human being to be that fast? But she was now straddling him, their hats lost to the grass somewhere nearby, and her heart pounding.
Ella sat up, hands to his chest, but she could feel his cock pressed against his jeans and . . . it was in the right spot to make her rational thoughts fly out the window.
Jesse leaned up on his forearms, but she neither scrambled off him nor removed her hands from his chest.
“I hate you, you know that, right?”
Jesse sat up a little more, which only positioned her in an even more compromising position, his hard length thick against her center. The urge to grind on him was strong.
“I know you do, and you should,” Jesse said, his tone carrying a hint of remorse. He gently brushed a strand of blonde hair away from her face, the delicate touch such a contrast to the savage mood he’d been in moments ago. “But you’re just going to have to hate me even more because over my dead body are you going to Paris.”
“Sis, this is . . .”
Ella chewed on her thumbnail as her brother Beckett, known to all as the grumpy sheriff, scrolled through her Instagram account. He was the oldest of the siblings, as in over the big four-oh, and for some reason, she’d been the most nervous about his opinion.
“It’s like a four-alarm fire,” her brother Shep, one of only two firefighters in their small town, shot out.
Jesse hadn’t spoken a word to her since their little tussle in the field, where he’d issued insane commands like they were playing a game of guess how big of a dick Jesse can be. It was crazy that she’d found herself aroused by his out-of-nowhere caveman attitude on the matter of Paris. Hell, she’d wanted to grind against the bulge in his jeans.
It had been twenty or so minutes since supper finished, and after he’d cleaned his plate, Jesse had gone outside, where he was currently pacing with his phone to his ear.
“What in the blazes are you talking about?” Rory swatted Shep on the back of the head like he was her brother too. “There’s nothing four-alarm about this. Not that I know what that means, but don’t overreact.”
“Ella’s photos are online for any creeper, catfisher, or crazy person to see,” Shep returned. When Ella glanced over at A.J., who was holding on to his son and rocking him in his big teddy bear arms, it was clear that the same thoughts were going through his head too.
Beckett’s unfinished sentence still dangled in the air, and it had Ella wondering if he was worried she’d be a bad influence on her niece. His daughter, McKenna, was thirteen years old and thought Ella hung the moon.
“Y’all are acting like I posted nudes or half-naked photos there,” Ella exclaimed, eyeing Beckett and her other brother, Caleb, who were the only two sitting at the kitchen island.
The remaining guests were in the living room, and from the sounds of it, her father was playing his harmonica. So, at the moment, Ella was alone with her big brothers and her best friend. Hopefully, Rory could help her knock some sense into these overbearing men.
“Pictures aren’t always about how much skin is showing,” Shep pointed out, and what did that even mean?
Caleb snatched the phone from Beckett and smirked. Well, a smile was a good sign, she supposed. “Bama Babe for a hashtag, huh?”
“Did you see the one below that? Save a horse, ride a cowboy?” Beckett grumbled.
“That’s totally a common phrase,” Ella sputtered, her cheeks heating at the words she’d typed coming from her brother’s mouth.
Beckett, who was still in his sheriff’s uniform, pushed away from the kitchen island and stood. Gun at his side. “Paris, huh?”
“You do realize I didn’t plan to ask permission from anyone here, right?” Ella sought Rory’s gaze for support, but Rory was busy taking A.J.’s son from his arms. Mommy fever. Maybe she and Chris would start trying soon. And then Jesse would be an uncle.
Oy. Jesse. Not the man I want to be thinking about now. Ella stole another look out the window, but Jesse was no longer in sight.
“What’s Jesse think about this? He didn’t say a word at dinner.” Since Rory had the baby secure in her arms, A.J. set his back to one of the counters and folded his arms, positioning his attention squarely on Ella.
Marcus Alexander was barely three months old. A.J. and Ana had asked Savanna if it was okay to name their firstborn after her late husband, knowing she’d already decided it might be tough for her to choose the name if or when she and Griffin had a child. She’d happily agreed to the name.
A.J. called him “Mac” for short, and Mac was adorable with a full head of brown hair despite the fact his mom was a redhead. He had the brightest green eyes Ella had ever seen. Little cherub cheeks.
Ella would hate missing the next six months of his life, especially since Ana and A.J. would be living in Bama all of next year. A former FBI agent, Ana now taught courses at Quantico, but she was taking the next year off to spend with their son.
But how many times will I get this chance to design clothes for Rochella? To go to Paris and work alongside the greats? Just the one.
“Why would I care what Jesse thinks?” Ella finally answered A.J. “You guys will meet Henry Rochella at the New Year’s Eve party. Hopefully, that will ease your Paris-worries.” Ella made prayer hands. “Just please don’t scare him. No interrogations.”
Shep and A.J. exchanged a quick look that said it all. They had every intention of giving the billionaire the third degree.
Ella turned in search of Rory for an assist, but damn her, the traitor had left her alone with her brothers. Now it was four to one. Yeah, with baby Marcus in her arms, Rory’s brain had turned to mush.
Before A.J. had a chance to toss back a response that’d most likely piss Ella off, the kitchen door swung open, and Jesse was there with his gaze sharp on Ella. That fierce intensity set in his blue eyes had her gulping.
“A.J.,” Jesse began, even though he’d yet to rip his focus from Ella, “I need to talk to you. Now.”