Chapter Two
J essa was already awake when her alarm went off. She’d been awake most of the night, thoughts churning behind wide-open eyes, so attuned to every slight creak and faint thump in the house she no longer occupied alone that even the distant hum of a car engine had her practically bolting upright in panic.
He was here.
And it felt like he was everywhere .
From the moment Caleb walked into her whitewashed-brick bungalow he’d seemed to dominate the space. In a house furnished for her petite height, he was long-limbed and tall—much taller than most bull riders, he’d told her in Hawaii—and looked liable to smash every decorative knickknack in sight if he stuck his elbows out too far. The dusty boots he’d left by the front door dwarfed her lavender slip-ons, she was sure he could see all manner of cobwebs she couldn’t reach to clean, and when she helped him ease down to the couch, she felt like a squirrel attempting to escort a lightning-struck oak on its crashing descent to the ground. He was intrusive, overwhelming, completely unignorable— and so sexy she was surprised she hadn’t gone up in flames.
Jessa killed the alarm on her phone with a groan, turning away from the light filtering through the shutters. Caleb was beautiful, objectively. He had tropical-blue eyes and great hair and a playful, roguish smile that she doubted most people could resist. She certainly hadn’t that first night in Hawaii, even though he’d paired it with a pickup line so cheesy he started laughing halfway through.
That’s what she really liked about Caleb—what made him such a threat to her now, in her meticulously decorated home, in her carefully reconstructed life. The pretty face and chiseled body were obvious to everyone, but his self-effacing manner, his easygoing personality, his dogged refusal to take anything seriously—that was her kryptonite. He disarmed her and charmed her in equal measure, which gave him an uncanny power over her she’d never experienced with anyone else. She’d always been relentlessly disciplined, impervious to bad habits and bad boys, her judgment as steely as the drive that pushed her to become a professional dancer.
Until she found herself saying “I do” to a grinning cowboy she’d known for less than seventy-two hours.
She’d been fully aware it was a terrible idea at the time, and she’d done it anyway. The irresponsible absurdity of it was part of the appeal—part of Caleb’s appeal. He made her want to be foolish and unwise. To throw away caution and forget about consequences. To let fun perpetually override good sense.
Just like he did.
All well and good in the heady Hawaii sunshine, thousands of miles from the real world, drunk on poolside cocktails and sea breezes. Last Stand was her home, her future, and she couldn’t let who she’d been that week intrude upon who she was now—no matter how much she’d liked that carefree girl in the bikini.
Jessa hauled herself out of bed, pulled on her clothes, and then donned the crisp solicitousness she’d used with Caleb last night like a coat of armor. She’d invited him into her home on impulse—exactly the kind of uncharacteristic spontaneity she was prone to in his presence—but it was underpinned by real concern and a genuine sense of obligation. Just because she didn’t want to be married to him anymore didn’t mean she couldn’t care about what happened to him. He’d been so pale under the hospital lights, so clearly dazed and out of sorts, and the thought of him struggling one-handed in some crummy motel room—no. He deserved better.
Which was, apparently, her couch.
Despite a variety of offers, from a hot meal to a glass of water to the largest T-shirt she owned, given all his belongings were back at his hotel, he’d wanted only to sleep. Her long night’s vigilance suggested that’s exactly what he’d done—an assumption confirmed when she stepped out of her bedroom and found him right where she’d left him .
Mindful of his shoulder, he’d slept sitting up on the sofa, surrounded on both sides by every pillow and cushion and wadded-up towel she could find. The EMTs had cut open his black, sponsor-labeled shirt, and the red hoodie she’d found in the hospital donation bin was too small, leaving his wrists sticking out of the sleeves and the hem resting on top of his belt. He’d inched forward a little during the night, his long legs stretched in front of him, his chin practically on his chest. Jessa couldn’t imagine a more uncomfortable way to sleep but he’d managed, and she’d just begun to tiptoe out of the room and leave him to it when he inhaled sharply.
She froze, caught between warring impulses to rush to his side and bail before he saw her. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes and through his hair, winced down at his left arm, got halfway to standing and then sat back down heavily, decorative cushions bouncing from the impact.
“Are you okay?” she asked, abandoning stealth mode as she rounded the couch to stand in front of him.
Instantly he flashed her that broad, untroubled smile that was the root of her worst decisions—and her hottest fantasies.
“Good morning, gorgeous. Ain’t you as pretty as the prairie sunrise today?”
“Has the prairie sunrise brushed its teeth? Because I haven’t.”
He laughed, undeterred, and she had to bite her lower lip not to join in.
“Did you sleep all right out here?” she asked.
“With those painkillers they gave me, I could’ve slept in the gutter and gotten eight hours. Worn off now, though.” He grimaced.
“You’ve got a couple more. Better to take them on a full stomach. I’ll start breakfast. Can I help you up?”
He shook his head. “Got dizzy for a second, but I’m fine now. Go on and do what you need to do. I’ll be along.”
She hesitated, uncertain, but then reminded herself this was only a temporary stopover, and she was no more Caleb’s caregiver than she was his wife. She was his friend, if nothing else, and friends looked out for each other, especially when they wouldn’t look out for themselves.
At the same time, that friendship was both her responsibility and its limit. They might be married, but they were not dating, and they were absolutely not hooking up. She would get him back on his feet and out the door, and then resume her busy life as a teacher, community member, and small-business owner.
Jessa continued into the kitchen, flung open the fridge, and stared blankly at its contents. Her post-ballet eating habits were still a work in progress, and breakfast was one area where she struggled to shake off her utilitarian approach to nutrition. She could imagine Caleb’s horror if she presented him with her daily half-grapefruit and hard-boiled egg, but a quick rummage produced a small bag of kale and a quarter-loaf of bread. That’d do for now, and she’d go to the grocery store this afternoon.
She was drizzling lemon juice over two kale omelets with toast on the side when he finally made it into the kitchen, looking so weak and unsteady that any lingering doubts she had about bringing him here vanished on the spot. The days ahead would be awkward, for sure, but it was better than worrying about him managing on his own.
He lowered himself gingerly into a chair. She put down his plate and a cup of coffee and took the seat opposite.
“Thanks for breakfast.” His tone was sincere, but his eyes were narrowed in suspicion as he cut into the omelet.
“That’s kale.”
He blinked at her.
“It’s like spinach.”
“Oh, okay.” He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, and grinned. “It’s good.”
She tilted her chin down, hiding her endeared smile. They’d kept their personal disclosures high-level in Hawaii, but it only took a few details for her to realize that her dad’s cattle ranch outside Last Stand was a world away from Caleb’s upbringing on a Tennessee smallholding. With Austin on her doorstep—well, an hour or so away, which was a doorstep in Texas terms—she’d had exposure to a whole range of people and cuisine and art, to the extent that when she moved to New York City for college, the biggest adjustment was the weather. Her family ranch was fairly prosperous, and although she wouldn’t describe them as wealthy, there was always money for dance lessons and pointe shoes and tickets to whichever ballet company came through on tour.
Caleb, on the other hand, grew up a half-hour drive from a thousand-person town where she could’ve bought a two-bedroom house with the money in her savings account (she’d looked at real estate listings online while he slept beside her, cocooned in the crisp, white sheets of the hotel bed). He’d told her about his parents’ ongoing battles with droughts, infestations, and crop prices. How they skipped weeks of homeschooling to work the harvest but never let him miss a minute of church. That they didn’t dance, didn’t drink, didn’t vote, didn’t own a radio or a TV or a deck of cards, and didn’t try to stop him when he finally left.
She still found it hard to understand how such a stifled environment could produce a buoyant man like Caleb—but she supposed it didn’t matter. He’d be gone soon. No need to dig this hole of theirs any deeper.
“I’d like to lay out some ground rules,” she announced.
“Wasn’t planning on throwing any parties while I’m here, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Not rules for the house. For us.”
He arched a brow but kept quiet.
“I know in Hawaii we were…close. We had a lot of fun. But that wasn’t real. That was vacation. Temporary. Things are different for me now. This is my home. My real life.”
“Are you seeing someone? ”
She shook her head.
“Got your eye on somebody?”
“Nothing like that. I’m just really focused on reestablishing myself here in Last Stand. Becoming someone other than that girl who almost made it.”
“You did make it.”
“Not in a way that matters to anyone here. I didn’t come home with a big wadge of money or a string of headlines or a glamorous husband.”
“You saying I ain’t glamorous?” He winked over his coffee mug, and she tried very hard not to find that charming.
“I rode out of here on a rainbow of potential, but I came back under a cloud. I was never a prima ballerina who set the dance world on fire. No one spotted my name in a magazine in the supermarket checkout aisle. I didn’t return in triumph, ready to live off my riches and take my place among the legends of Last Stand. I just…drove into town one afternoon, and I was back.”
“Most people don’t get a ticker tape parade when they move home.”
“Most people don’t get a handshake from the mayor when they leave, either—but I did.”
“Mayor was that glad to see the back of you, huh?”
“Hilarious,” she said dryly. “My point is, if I don’t want everyone to know me for what I never was, I have to show them who I’ve become.”
“And who have you become, Jessa Star?”
She sat up straighter, refusing to let the warmth in his voice or the unblinking clarity of his gaze melt her resolve.
“A successful business owner and a selfless, upstanding contributor to the community, respected as much for my charitable efforts as my commercial savvy. That’s who I will be, anyway. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
“I’m guessing a busted-up rodeo-cowboy husband isn’t part of your brand.”
She pursed her lips.
He smiled. “It’s all good, sugar—you can quit looking at me like I’m a puppy you left on the side of the road. Truth is, I’m not in a hurry to tell every buckle bunny west of the Mississippi I’m a married man, either.”
The thought of him romping his way through the rodeo circuit triggered her competitive instinct in the worst way possible. She picked up a slice of toast and chewed it methodically, forcing her tight jaw to open, reminding herself with each crunch between her teeth that she had no claim on this man, nor did she want one.
“Good. Then we’re agreed that what happened in Hawaii stays there, and here in Texas we’re just friends.”
“Just friends,” he echoed, raising his coffee mug in a toast.
“Now that we’ve got that out of the way, I did have a couple of house rules.” She pulled her phone across the table and opened the notes app she’d used to occupy a sleepless hour last night. “First and most important is, relax, enjoy yourself, and focus on your recovery. Number two, all footwear must be removed at the door. Number three, no food anywhere but in the kitchen. Number four, rinse all dishes before placing them in the dishwasher. Number five, do not use—”
“How many of these are there?”
“Not that many.” She checked. “Twelve. Do not use the decorative soaps in the dish in the hall bathroom; those are for guests. A bottle of hand soap can be found—”
“But I am a guest.”
“You’re a temporary resident. Those are for, like, special visitors.”
“We’re talking about the ones shaped like flowers, right?”
“Yes.”
“Could I just use one of them? We can set it off to the side, make sure it doesn’t get mixed in with the others.”
Jessa blew out a breath. “Let me look through them. Maybe if there’s one that’s a little worn down already, we could make that your…”
His earnest expression dissolved into a grin. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I won’t touch your flower soaps. Promise.”
Her own lips twitched with the temptation to smile, but she tamped it down. She would not get drawn into his no-consequences world. This was real life, and those soaps were expensive.
“Number six, the purple towels—”
Someone banged on the front door, and Jessa wasn’t even out of her chair before it creaked open.
“Jessa, it’s me. What the hell is going on? I know you’re here; your car is—oh.”
Georgia stood in the doorway to the kitchen, her gaze bouncing between Jessa and the rather rumpled-looking man at her table.
“Good morning to you too, George. Coffee?” Jessa popped up from her seat.
“No, thanks,” her older sister said vaguely, before pulling herself back to attention. “I’m confused. When you texted me last night you said you left the rodeo because you felt sick, but Amy called just now and asked what happened with the rodeo guy. Which I assume is you.” She looked at Caleb.
“Probably,” he agreed pleasantly.
Georgia frowned at him, and then at her. “What’s going on, Jess?”
“It’s really not a big deal,” she insisted a little too forcefully, rearranging the mugs in the cabinet even though Georgia said she didn’t want coffee. “I thought I recognized Caleb—this is Caleb, by the way. Caleb, this is my sister, Georgia.”
He smiled. Georgia stared.
“We met a couple years ago, and I thought it was him, but I wasn’t sure until he took off his helmet. Then he got smacked by that bull and of course I wanted to make sure he was okay. So I just rode along to the hospital and sat with him for a bit, and then it turned out he needs somewhere to stay while he heals, and obviously I have tons of room, so I said, hey, why don’t you stay with me. And here he is.”
Jessa gave her sister a grin designed to be visible from the last row of a packed theater, bright and white and dazzling.
Georgia didn’t even blink.
“Where did you meet?”
“Hawaii.”
“How?”
“At the hotel. Bar. The bar in the hotel.”
“And?”
“And what?” Jessa shrugged innocently, but Georgia was a prosecutor and about as inclined to accept this bare-bones story as sloths were inclined to become triathletes.
“It was a very brief acquaintance—just a few nights. Which is why I’m mighty thankful to your sister for putting me up,” Caleb interjected.
Jessa gritted her teeth as Georgia glanced hotly at him. He was trying to be helpful, and he had no idea that every morsel of a detail only made Georgia hungrier for the full picture.
“A few nights?” Georgia repeated, turning back to Jessa, her eyebrows halfway to her hairline.
Jessa had always been closer to Georgia than either of her other two sisters, and she usually told her everything—especially when it came to her love life .
Until she met Caleb.
Who held up his hand. “You’re her sister—her family—so we better come clean. Jessa was on vacation, I’d just won some cash at the rodeo out there, and I hit on her in the hotel bar. We talked, had a couple drinks, and she invited me to her room. We ended up spending the next couple of days together, and then I said why don’t we—”
“Hook up some more,” Jessa blurted, hoping her sister missed the flash of surprise on Caleb’s face.
He was right. Georgia was her sister, her best friend, and her closest confidante. If Jessa told anyone else the truth about their relationship, it should be her.
But she couldn’t. Amy knew she couldn’t, too, or she would’ve told Georgia herself, and Jessa had a rare moment of admiration for her wayward twin.
Their mother died when she and Amy were toddlers and Georgia, as the oldest, had stepped into a maternal role to the extent that any seven-year-old can. As she grew, Jessa became increasingly sensitive to the extra burdens and responsibilities Georgia and their distant, widowed father shouldered—and increasingly eager to win praise for helping to ease them.
When Amy was defiant or argumentative, Jessa doubled down on being cooperative and upbeat. If Amy’s teachers summoned their father to school to discuss her grades, Jessa put in extra hours of studying to make sure she got straight As. The day Amy quit ballet even though their instructor gushed about her talent was the day Jessa decided to be the best goddamn dancer this town had ever seen.
Eventually her sister’s approval and her father’s attention weren’t enough. Everything became a performance, a constant drive to win applause from teachers, college professors, and the higher-ups in the ballet company. Even now, the thought of faceless denizens of Last Stand whispering about the strange man coming and going from her house… But she couldn’t worry about that, not with her sister’s sharp gaze threatening to chisel a hole through her skull.
“I know this seems out of character for me, because it was. Is. I was in a weird place on that vacation, not quite celebrating, not quite grieving, and Caleb was the perfect distraction. No offense, Caleb.”
He shrugged. “None taken.”
“He took my mind off the most stressful transition of my life. Helped me have fun, let go of what brought me there, and rest up for what lay ahead. Then we said goodbye, and that was it. But when I saw him last night—when I saw him get hurt—I knew I had to return the favor. He’ll stay with me until he’s better, and then he’ll go. He wants to go. His career is on the road.”
Caleb nodded. “I’m not trying to take advantage, I swear. She had to talk me into even coming here.”
Skepticism still narrowed Georgia’s eyes, and Jessa dug for the right word to convince her sister she had nothing to worry about.
“Caleb is a safe person, George. I wouldn’t let him in my house if he wasn’t.”
Georgia glanced between them one last time, and then her shoulders sagged in resignation.
“All right. Jessa, let me know if you need anything, or if I can help. And you”—she pointed at Caleb—“better be everything she says you are. I’m the district attorney for three counties, and if I get so much as a whiff that you’re giving her any kind of trouble, I’ll come down on you with the full force of the law—or the full force of my very confrontational boyfriend. He’s big and tough and he can be a real asshole.”
“He’s a sweetheart, really,” Jessa assured Caleb, then clamped her mouth shut at her sister’s disapproving glare.
“I appreciate you looking out for your sister’s welfare. You got nothing to worry about. She’s already read me six of her twelve rules, and I’ll do my best to follow each one.”
“Five,” Jessa corrected, and Georgia snorted a laugh.
“Now that I think about it, maybe you’re the one I should be worried about. I’ll let you get back to it. Word of warning, Caleb—don’t touch her special fridge markers.”
Jessa huffed indignantly. “Those were whiteboard markers for my fridge calendar in specific, hard-to-find shades I ordered specially for color-coded scheduling, which you used—unauthorized—for an unnecessarily large retirement card for your coworker and then left the lid off one of them.”
Georgia gave Caleb a perky grin. “Good luck!”
Jessa glowered at her sister’s retreating back until the front door shut safely behind her. Then she dropped back into her seat at the table, ignoring the bemused twist to Caleb’s mouth.
“We have to get divorced,” she told him.
For an instant Caleb’s whole being seemed to flatten. Then he reinflated with a smile.
“Sure. Whatever you want.”
Jessa frowned. “Isn’t it what you want, too? Even if you’re not about to hurl yourself down the aisle toward someone else, there’s no reason for you to be going through life legally bound to me.”
“You’re right, I just didn’t… But yeah, now’s as good a time as any.”
“Let me figure out how this works.” She hunched over her phone and typed “ Texas divorce asap ” into the search bar.
For a few moments she scrolled in concentrated silence, trying to digest the legalese.
Then Caleb asked, “You didn’t tell your sisters you got married?”
“Did you tell your parents we got married?” she lobbed back.
“I haven’t spoken to them in six years, so no, I didn’t.”
She winced. “I’m sorry. I knew you left their farm, but I didn’t realize you were on such bad terms.”
“No, you have a point—people in glass houses. My family’s so messed up, I figure everyone else’s is perfect by comparison, but I guess that’s not true. You didn’t even tell me you had a twin.”
Guilt drove her gaze to her lap. “I wanted to pretend I didn’t.”
“What else did you pretend?”
The question was gentle, but her head snapped up at the implication. “Nothing. And I never lied to you, I just…omitted that particular detail.”
His silence was an invitation, patient and open-eared. Jessa propped her chin on her hand, trying to put this complicated, fraught, indispensable element of her life into words.
“There are four of us—Amy and I are the youngest—and we grew up without a mom. She died when we were young. Our dad was emotionally pretty absent, so there was no one to break up the fights, no one to dilute the sisterly dynamics. Amy and I are totally different people, but we always got lumped together, and over the years we pushed against each other harder and harder, trying to create distance where there wasn’t any.”
She waved her hand. “Anyway, we all grew up and spread out, and now we’ve all trickled back home. Josie was the last one—at the beginning of this year she left her corporate career in Minneapolis to take over the ranch when my dad got sick.”
“What happened to your dad?”
“Oh, he’s fine,” she rushed to reply. “He had a health scare, and it was the wake-up call he needed to finally hand Josie the reins. He moved out to a retirement community near Austin, and he’s doing great. Even found a girlfriend. They left last week for a cruise in the Mediterranean.”
“Well, that’s good.”
“It is. Actually, when he initially went into the hospital, we uncovered a whole drama with his former in-laws—but that’s a long story.” And not one she was in the mood to unspool. The discovery that their mother had been disowned by her family for marrying a Jew was still a raw wound—one she kept poking out of a sense of obligation to their newfound relatives’ happiness. In a few weeks, their long-lost aunt and cousin were coming to Last Stand for a visit, an emotional tangle she hadn’t yet found time to deal with.
“Families are complicated,” Caleb agreed. “Do you think your dad and your sisters would be mad about the wedding? Is that why you kept it a secret?”
“Not mad, exactly.” She tilted her head. “Disappointed.”
He smiled. “I get it. Everything I’ve ever done disappointed my parents. And on the religious side?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know how it works for Jewish people—don’t know hardly anything about Jewish people, if I’m honest. Is divorce, like, okay?”
The slightly bashful flush that bloomed high on his cheeks ignited answering heat in the center of her chest. She’d forgotten this part of him. Had let those glimpses of the quiet, sincere man behind the showy rodeo cowboy fall through the cracks.
She saw him now, the same profile silhouetted by the rising Hawaiian sun perched at her kitchen table. The morning light carried the unrelenting Texas heat instead of salty sea breezes, but otherwise he was, just for a second, completely unchanged. Clear-eyed, earnest, and looking at her like she was the only woman in the world.
Jessa wrenched her gaze away, hoping that would slow her racing heart.
She was not doing this. Two years and thousands of miles separated the deflated, uncertain woman she’d been in Hawaii from the self-possessed go-getter she was today. Caleb had been the steadying touch she needed, but she’d been firm on her own two feet ever since.
“Divorce is fine, which is good news because it looks like it’ll be pretty easy to get one here in Texas. I can file as the state resident, and as long as you don’t contest it, it’ll be finalized once the waiting period is over.” Jessa smiled brightly, turning her phone so he could read what she’d found.
He didn’t look at the screen. “Guess we’re all set, then.”
“Yes, we are,” she replied solidly.
And in the silence that followed, Jessa heard the phantom tick of a clock begin to count down to the end of their marriage.
*
“Well.” Jessa stood in the motel room doorway, her hands on her hips.
“It’s not that bad.”
“It’s a shithole.”
“I’ve seen worse.” Caleb tugged open the curtain on the single window, sending a handful of cockroaches skittering into dark corners.
She followed him inside and pulled the door closed, only for it to pop open again. She yanked it harder, using both hands to wedge it into the frame. It stayed shut for several promising seconds, then slowly, almost apologetically swung back out.
Jessa glared at the door, immune to its remorse, and then turned that disapproving gaze on him.
“I can’t believe you planned to sleep here. Paid to sleep here. How did you even find this place? I’ve lived in Last Stand almost my whole life and had no idea this motel existed.”
He wasn’t surprised, given its online description as being near Last Stand was something of an exaggeration. The slouch-roofed building was at least forty-five minutes from the edge of town, down an unlit, pothole-riddled road probably only traveled by people looking for trouble.
“On the internet.” Gingerly he made his way to the bed he hadn’t even had a chance to sleep in. Although considering the stale-cigarette smell wafting up from the comforter, maybe that wasn’t the worst turn of events.
His shoulder, on the other hand, had given him nothing but unpleasant surprises since he’d woken up on Jessa’s couch that morning. Raised by a mother who believed suffering brought her closer to the Lord and so only doled out half a Tylenol in extreme circumstances—like when he fell off a horse and broke his arm—Caleb prided himself on his pain tolerance. But as soon as he’d eaten enough for Jessa to deem it safe, he’d swallowed the tablets from the hospital as fast as he could choke them down. His shoulder throbbed, his head ached, in fact his whole body felt like it might fall apart if he made any sudden moves.
He knew he’d been fortunate. All these years riding bulls and he’d never needed surgery, never had extended time off for an injury, never had anything worse than a mild concussion or a slight sprain. And considering how often he’d gotten tossed on his ass as he’d honed his skills, being a latecomer to the sport, that was saying something.
Just his luck that the minute he started getting traction in the rankings, a stupid post-ride collision took him out.
He dropped onto the bed and instantly regretted it, pressing his palm over his eyes as his vision reeled from the sudden descent. For a few moments he could do nothing more than breathe deeply, regaining his bearings as Jessa’s footsteps padded over.
“You okay?” she asked gently, and he marveled for the millionth time that someone so stern was also so kind. Despite all her scolding, not once had he felt patronized in Jessa’s company.
Except maybe when she was explaining how to correctly hang his towels, but he’d let that one slide.
“Just got dizzy for a second.”
“I should’ve come by myself so you could stay home and rest. Did you put stuff in the bathroom? Or is this it?” She indicated the duffel bag on the floor that contained almost all of his worldly possessions—the ones he gave a damn about, anyway.
“I might have.” In truth the whole day leading up to the bull ride was disconcertingly fuzzy, and he squinted as he tried to remember what exactly he’d done after he checked in.
Jessa disappeared into the bathroom, re-emerging a minute later with an eggplant-purple thong hoisted on the end of a toothbrush like a flag in a sex parade.
“Is this yours?”
“Thong ain’t. Toothbrush is.”
“Not anymore.” She dropped them both into the trash.
Caleb could practically hear the conclusions forming in her mind, and he held up his hands in protest. “Hey, look at this place. I barely sat on the bed, never mind laid a woman down in it. That must be from the previous occupant. Or the one before, given the overall standard of cleanliness.”
Jessa looked like she had a lot to say, but settled for, “It’s none of my business.”
“No, it’s not, however I’m informing you that I did not have sex with anyone in this room.”
“A fascinating data point I’ll be sure to write down when I have a moment to spare. If that’s everything, you can wait here, and I’ll go check you out.”
He took out his wallet. “I’ll probably have to pay for another night since it’s after eleven o’clock.”
“A delay due to a medical emergency requiring hospital admission. You’re not paying.”
He stared up at her crossed arms and arched brow, not quite sure he was following. “But I didn’t check out on time.”
“Due to circumstances beyond your control.”
“But the rules—”
“Should have exceptions, and I’m sure I can persuade the undoubtedly reasonable, compassionate proprietors of this establishment to offer a gesture of goodwill on this occasion.”
His brain must be bruised worse than he thought. No way should someone this pushy be this hot.
“But you love rules.”
“I also love value for money, and this place is charging at least double what they should—even including the free underwear. No way are you paying for a second night because you’re turning in your key an hour late. Leave it to me. I won’t be long.”
The wink she tossed him over her shoulder ramped up his pulse so fast that pain thudded in his temples—but it was worth it.
Jessa was unlike any other woman he’d ever met. Uptight, meticulous, never met a detail she couldn’t obsess about. She cared a lot about what people thought, unless she had a reason not to. Like that rude lady in Hawaii whose jaw nearly hit the floor when Jessa told her to quit hassling the housekeeper and fluff her own goddamn pillows.
When he met her, fresh off the plane from New York City, she’d worried aloud about what to tell people about the end of her dance career when she got back home.
“The truth,” he’d suggested, stroking his fingers down her bare back, enjoying the way her body was draped over his.
She’d shaken her head, silken hair gliding over his chest. “You don’t get it. But that’s not your fault. I wish I didn’t get it, either.”
They’d let that topic drop, focused on more immediate pleasures, but the contrast struck him now as he imagined the forceful sweetness she was probably deploying in the front office right then and there. Jessa was smart and forthright, totally unafraid of confrontation, and at the same time willing to lie to her family to protect their opinion of her.
Anyway, it was as much his problem as that thong was hers. He’d enjoy her hospitality until he was ready to roll, and then she’d go back to being a nice memory and a cautionary tale, the story he told himself whenever his feet got a little too heavy.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Careful not to jostle his shoulder, he pulled it out, wincing at the name on the caller ID before answering.
“Howdy, Rusty. How you doing?”
“I’m fine, but I didn’t get tossed like a ragdoll last night. What the hell happened?”
Caleb closed his eyes briefly, reaching through his pain to summon the most jovial tone he could muster. Agent was a fancy word for Rusty Byers’s job, which involved lounging behind his desk in Tulsa, calling potential sponsors for his stable of mid-tier bull riders and other rodeo athletes. He was also the only agent who’d so much as sniffed at Caleb’s career, and Caleb couldn’t afford to lose him.
“That ornery hunk of hamburger landed one below the belt. You know how it goes.”
“What’s the damage?”
“Oh, the usual. Got my bell rung pretty good, and my shoulder’s sore, but I’ll be back in the saddle in no time.”
“How long?” Rusty pressed.
“Week or two,” Caleb fibbed, rooting through his addled brain for the rodeo schedule. More likely it’d be a month—were there any mustn’t-miss events in that time? Maybe he could shave it down to three weeks…
“You sure? Because you got that rodeo out in Fort Stockton at the beginning of August. There’ll be some seriously rank bulls out there, and lots of sponsors on the lookout for new talent. ”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“All right, then. Hey, you know you came in third place last night?”
“I didn’t.” Caleb brightened. “How much did I win?”
“Seven hundred and fifty dollars. Less my ten percent, of course.”
“Of course. I’ll send it over to you.”
“Thank you kindly. Let me know when you’re ready to ride again.”
“Will do,” Caleb said, and ended the call. He tossed the phone on the bed beside him and tilted his face to the ceiling, his future as bleak and ugly as the crumbling, damp-stained plaster over his head.
“Who was that?”
He jerked at the sound of Jessa’s voice, then clutched his left elbow in its sling to combat the white-hot agony the sudden movement sent down his arm.
“My agent.”
“Why did you lie to him?”
He moved more carefully this time, slowly rising to his feet, forcing his mouth into a smile before he turned. Jessa leaned in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Just didn’t want him to worry, is all. He’d be nagging me every hour otherwise. Really cares about his athletes, that guy.”
Her expression made it clear she wasn’t buying what he was selling. “In two weeks, you go back to the doctor for a checkup, and maybe get your arm out of the sling. Climbing on a bull is a long way off.”
“I know that.”
“And that’s what you’ll tell him next time he calls?”
Caleb exhaled hotly, his normally limitless patience finally running out. “I know you mean well, but in a profession like mine, sometimes you have to cut corners. Summer is a busy season for rodeo, and for the first time in my career I’m actually doing well. Placing in the top three or four, getting some attention from sponsors, earning enough money to cover more than just the gas to get me to the next event. I can’t lose that momentum, not when it’s taken me years to build. I know my body, and I’ll know when I’m ready to compete.”
He stared at her defiantly, ready for the lecture he knew was coming—and which he probably deserved.
But Jessa didn’t scold him. She didn’t even seem angry. She pushed off the doorframe and came toward him, her mouth twisted in something looking suspiciously like sympathy.
“I understand,” she told him, stopping just short of where he stood. “I was a professional dancer, remember? I spent all of my adolescence and the first half of my twenties pushing myself to my physical breaking point, day in and day out. I danced through injuries, I danced through pain, I danced when I had no business doing anything but lying flat on my back. Most people don’t get how it feels to love something so much you’ll put your body on the line for it—but I do. And I learned the hard way that there are some limits we can’t shove past, no matter how hard we try.”
She took his good hand in hers and gave it a quick, tight squeeze before letting it drop back to his side. “Take it from someone who’s been where you are. Go easy on yourself. Take the time you need to recover. You’re worth it.”
Caleb grinned, fighting to brush it all off—her words, her touch, this disconcerting warmth in his chest at the thought that she might actually care. She didn’t know him, and he didn’t need her to. He didn’t need any of this softness or concern. He could look after himself, and he intended to keep it that way.
“Appreciate your two cents. Speaking of cents, do I owe on this place or not?”
She felt his dismissal—he could tell from her slight flinch. Then she drew herself up and strapped on a smile as fake and flimsy as his own.
“The gentleman was perfectly polite and utterly reasonable. We agreed that your bill would not exceed the single night’s stay. He sends his best wishes for a swift recovery.”
Caleb snorted. “He didn’t say that.”
“Technically, he told me to get off his property or he’d haul my ass to the interstate himself, but I’m sure I heard a get well soon undertone.”
“Uh huh. Come on, then. Let’s get out of here while we still can.”
He gave the musty room a final once-over, unable to quell a surge of relief at knowing he’d be back on Jessa’s comfy couch within the hour. The creature comforts were certainly an upside to this situation. The downsides, well—they were nothing he couldn’t handle.
He handled the most stubborn, cantankerous bulls every day, he reminded himself as he followed her back to her car. He could handle five feet and a couple inches of womanly persistence, no problem.
No problem at all.