Chapter 7 Kacey
Kacey
Kacey
Coffee tomorrow morning?
Jessie
Please. I’ll be coming off a 14 hour shift.
Kacey
Perfect, meet you at Plot Twist at 9.
Jessie
Okay. How was the jackpot?
Kacey
Not over yet but it’s been interesting. I thought Carson and my farrier were going to whip them out and measure. I’ll explain tomorrow.
Jessie
HA isn’t your farrier like 60 years old? I can’t wait for this story.
The next morning, I meet my best friend, Jessie, at The Plot Twist Café, our favorite coffee and book shop.
It’s in an old brick building in downtown Cottonwood Valley.
The owner, Lainey, has done a fantastic job with it.
When you walk in, the first thing you see is the huge, petrified tree where she has glued used book pages in place of leaves.
It looks like it grows right into the ceiling.
There are floor-to-ceiling bookshelves with eclectic decor, stained glass lamps and mismatching vintage furniture everywhere.
She added the coffee shop to make sure it always made a profit, but her actual love is books.
Jessie and I both went to high school with Lainey, and we’ve stayed friends; meeting up once a month to discuss the different books we’re reading.
It’s less of a book club and more of Jessie telling us how many unhinged smut books she’s managed to consume in the given month.
She really needs a boyfriend.
I beat Jessie here. She’s an ER nurse at the local hospital and often runs late if a trauma arrives. I’m sitting at a small table near the tree waiting for my caramel macchiato and muffin when she comes barreling in.
“Okay, I’m here. Tell me all about Carson’s small dick,” she announces a little too loud.
Yep, people are definitely looking.
Typical Jessie, but I expect nothing less.
“Can you please sit down and lower your voice?” I laugh at her. “No ‘Hi, Kacey. Good to see you. How are you?’ You’re just concerned about Carson’s dick—which not only grosses me out but concerns me about your lack of a sex life.”
She plops in the seat across from me. She’s wearing standard blue scrub pants, but her top is a blue and purple leopard print. Her dark red hair is French braided down her back, with stray hairs loose around her freckled face from work, giving her an effortlessly beautiful look.
“Fine. How are you, my love?”
I roll my eyes at her heavy dose of sarcasm. “I’m wonderful, thank you for asking. We won a good check at the jackpot yesterday. How was your shift?”
“That’s great, it was great. Now about the dick measuring contest . . .”
I shake my head. She’s like a dog with a bone.
Ever since middle school, Jessie has been the wild child, class clown, and every boy’s crush. Where I was quiet and reserved, she was the outgoing life of the party. Sometimes I wonder how much of her firecracker personality is a shield guarding her against the world.
She had a rough home life and was mostly raised by her grandmother, so she spent a lot of time at the ranch.
My dad treats her like a second daughter, always including her in events, getting her flowers for her birthday, all the things her dad has never once done.
I’m not even sure she’s talked to her dad in years.
“Okay, okay,” I say. If I don’t tell her, she’ll just keep at me, and we won’t catch up on our lives.
I haven’t seen her for a couple weeks; she’s been pulling double shifts at the hospital.
“Jack broke his leg, so he has a guy from Oklahoma filling in for him. For reasons unknown to me, Carson didn’t take a liking to him. You know how he can be.”
When I followed Carson around as a kid, Jessie followed me, therefore following Carson. I’ll just say he tolerated her and leave it at that. They bicker and pick at each other nonstop, but I know Carson still thinks of her as a sister and he’s the closest thing she has to a brother.
“Okay . . . Carson can be grumpy, but if he truly dislikes someone, there is normally a reason. Is this guy a dirtbag or something?” she asks as the waitress approaches our table. She places my coffee and muffin down and takes Jessie’s order. I take a bite of my muffin and moan.
Lainey’s baked goods are amazing.
What I will not tell Jessie is Carson’s and my conversation in the truck after the jackpot.
He for sure noticed the flirting and was not impressed.
He told me in no uncertain terms that a bull rider is the last guy I should date, and I have a feeling Jessie would advise the exact opposite.
But it’s a moot point, they both know I don’t date. Not anymore.
“Uh . . . he may have flirted with me a bit. But I’m not interested,” I rush to say. “He’s only here for a few weeks to fill in for Jack. I’m sure he’s just looking for some fling while he’s in town.”
I’m not lying to her, I do think he’s just looking for a fling.
But I’m also not sharing all the facts. Like the fact that he is the hottest man I’ve ever seen.
And how I could feel his eyes on me yesterday after we rode off.
It’s like there is a string tied between us; I can feel when his attention is on me.
When I would turn around and catch him watching me, he wouldn’t even try to look away. It made my stomach flip.
I pick up my coffee and take a sip, hoping Jessie will change the subject.
I should know better.
“He flirted with you? How old is this guy? What’s he look like? Is he a good bull rider? What’s his name? I’ll find him on social media.” The rapid-fire questions come so quickly I can’t even answer.
Once she pauses for a breath, grabbing her phone to start hunting the man down on social media, I explain. “It’s not a big deal. Like I said, I’m not interested. And I don’t even know his last name, so let’s please move on to other subjects.”
She huffs, setting her phone down. “Fine, if you say so.” Then I hear her say under her breath, “He must be ugly.” I try not to laugh at that.
“So, tell me about the hospital. Has it been busy?”
We spend the next hour getting caught up before I head back to the ranch.