CHAPTER TWELVE
Jessie clutched her still-ringing cell phone in her hand and darted into the kitchen. Lips still scorching from their kiss, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to speak. She slid her finger over the screen and held her breath as she answered. “Noel?”
In the background, the din of their camp echoed through the line.
Familiar voices mixed with tropical birdsong, the soundtrack of her professional life.
“Jessie, hey! I don’t mean to call so late, but I have some updates I wanted to share.
” He hesitated a moment and cleared his throat. “They’re not great.”
Her palms so slick with sweat, Jessie nearly dropped the phone in her haste to find a seat. She lowered herself on shaking legs and tried to remember to breathe. “No worries, s ... Noel. I have a few minutes. What’s up?”
The lie slid off her tongue so easily, Jessie winced. She certainly didn’t have a few minutes; she was in the middle of an important conversation with the only person who made her feel alive.
The other thing that had come to life in the last few days—her libido.
She hadn’t been this turned on in far, far too long.
Her belly was coiled tight, every nerve ending on fire.
It almost felt inappropriate to take the call in her current state.
If he weren’t injured, she’d throw her career away in favor of climbing Malcolm like a tree. It was all too much.
Either unaware of her turmoil or uncaring, Noel continued, “Great! I spoke with some of the higher-ups about these promotions.” Jessie made a noise, proving she was listening. “Unfortunately, due to budget concerns, the positions are on hold.”
“On hold?” she parroted. “What does that mean?”
Noel huffed, sounding more tired than she’d ever heard him. “It means there aren’t any promotional opportunities for the next budgeting cycle. You can either come back now and finish the last parts of this project, or you’ll have to apply for another placement, at your current level.”
At her current level—meaning nothing new. No new challenges, no more responsibility, and no pay raise. Jessie would be walking away from everything here for more of the same. Did she really want to do that?
Before she could overthink her next words, Jessie blurted, “I can’t come back to finish the assignment. I know there’s a lot to do, but there’s a lot to do here as well.” Starting with finishing that lip lock from the deck ...
“Oh, all right.” Now Noel’s tone was reminiscent of her father’s when she did something naughty as a child. She heard the rustling of footsteps as the background din subsided. “Then there’s something else we need to discuss.”
Jessie’s stomach plummeted. “What’s that?”
Sighing, Noel said, “You’re out of paid leave. When I thought we’d have a promotion opportunity, I was able to pull a few strings. But with these budget concerns, the head office isn’t approving any unplanned PTO. I’m sorry.”
He certainly didn’t sound sorry. “What?” She wheezed. Her bank account was a barren wasteland on a good day, and after spending the money to fly home, it was hardly a good day.
The benefit of the Peace Corps is she rarely had the opportunity to spend a lot of her money. The downside was, the pay wasn’t stellar. She did the work because she loved it, not because it made her a millionaire.
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I thought I had a couple weeks banked up already.”
“You did, last year before your other trip back to the states. Unfortunately, the PTO bank doesn’t refill until the fall.”
Jessie knew this, of course, but in her emotional rush to flee to Pinegrove, she’d forgotten these important details. In a pinch, she could ask her mother for help, but Jessie was too old for that routine.
“Thanks for the updates, Noel. I really appreciate it.”
“I’m sure it’s not the news you wanted, but please consider applying for your next placement now. Hopefully, if things calm down with the budgets, we can discuss more opportunities in a year or two.”
In a year or two!?
Unable to think of anything else to say, Jessie thanked Noel for his time and disconnected. In this moment, she could not have cared less about professionalism.
No sooner had she tossed her phone onto the kitchen table, a sob bubbled up her throat.
Not wanting Malcolm to hear, she turned on the faucet and splashed water on her face.
Once she’d collected herself, she portioned out his pills and poured a glass of water.
Arranging everything on a small tray, she headed toward the bedroom, ready to help him get ready for sleep.
If she couldn’t control her professional life, she could certainly work on repairing her personal life.
But she was too late.
Malcolm sat on the edge of his bed, clad in his sleep shorts.
He was shirtless, his chest still glistening from the shower.
A water droplet made the slow journey down to his stomach, and she wanted to fall to her knees and follow the trail with her tongue.
History had proven they could get lost with each other’s bodies, and that was the type of mindless bliss she craved now.
“Oh, look at you,” she said, placing the tray on the nightstand and hurrying over to help him towel off. “You took your own shower.”
As soon as the cotton fabric touched his skin, Malcolm flinched away. “I’m fine,” he ground out. He scooted so far back, he risked teetering off the bed.
Jessie scoffed. “You don’t look fine.” Well, that wasn’t true.
He most certainly did look fine, muscles on display.
If it weren’t for his sour expression, she’d be begging him for more kisses, more moments in each other’s arms. “Did you hurt yourself in the shower? How are your pain levels?” She gestured over her shoulder at the water and medications. “I brought your—”
“I’m fine,” he snapped, causing them both to recoil. “Just want to go to sleep.”
“What’s the matter?” she asked, resting her hand on his forehead.
He reared back as if he’d been slapped. “I don’t have a fever.” Crawling backward, Malcolm fell onto his pillow and squeezed his eyes shut. “You can leave. I’ll take my pills in a minute.”
“Leave?” Jessie was incredulous. “What happened in the last twenty minutes, Malcolm?”
Well, other than her professional dreams and financial reality coming to a head—oh, and her pesky heart still burning—and lusting—for this stubborn man.
“Nothing happened,” he said, turning his back to her in a position she knew would hurt.
“Nothing happened,” she deadpanned, unable to catch up to his tantrum. “Is this about what we were talking about on the deck? I don’t know what you want me to—”
“I don’t want anything from you, Jessie. I want to sleep, okay?” His tone was icier than Alaskan igloos, and she shivered.
Jessie. He called her Jessie. It would have been less shocking if he’d called her every profanity in the book. But to not use her nickname? That hurt.
“Okay,” she whispered. For a moment, she stayed cemented in place, willing him to face her and share the reasons for this complete one-eighty. But Malcolm didn’t budge, so eventually she backed out of the room and turned off the light. “I’ll check on you in a while.”
Still, Malcolm didn’t utter a single word, not even a grunt to prove he was paying her any attention. She closed the door, leaning against it while silent tears slid down her face.
Last week she was focused on her job and not much else.
Jessie’s schedule had been set, distractions limited.
Now she’d been laughing with family and seeing old friends.
She’d had the distinct pleasure of Malcolm’s lips on her own, remembered what it felt like to lie in his strong arms. The notion of not being able to stare into his deep, soulful eyes wrenched open a pit of yearning in her chest.
Why did it suddenly feel like she was putting all her focus on the wrong path?
––––––––
Jessie woke with a start at dawn when she heard a clatter in the kitchen.
Shooting bolt upright, she knocked two cushions onto the floor.
She’d fallen asleep on the couch after hours of pacing around Malcolm’s place, unsure how to plan her next move.
Unfortunately, Estelle had done a stellar job with keeping a tidy home, so she couldn’t even stress clean.
“Malcolm?” she called out, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
She’d slept in her new dress, the cotton now creased and sticking to her skin.
She padded barefoot into the kitchen and found Malcolm scooping up coffee grounds from the counter, the canister overturned.
“Here, let me help,” she offered, grabbing a tea towel.
“I’ve got it,” Malcolm snapped, his jaw so tense, she was shocked his molars didn’t snap in half. “I need to take care of myself.”
“Of course you do, when you’re not bandaged up with a busted leg.” She swatted a towel over his hand like she was shooing away parrots in the jungle. Finally, he reluctantly pulled it back. “Take a seat. I’ve got coffee covered.”
At first, Malcolm didn’t budge. His gaze was zeroed in on the mess he’d made. “I can make coffee,” he grumbled like a caveman, and Jessie didn’t fight her answering scoff.
She took him by the shoulders and ushered him three steps back to a chair, nearly tripping over his boot. “Sit,” she ordered.
Jessie busied herself with adding water to the carafe and pulling out the bowl of sugar.
As soon as the coffee maker dinged, she filled a mug to the brim and slid it in front of Malcolm.
“Drink up, grumpy.” She poured her own cup and went in search of fixings for breakfast. “What time do you think your parents are coming for breakfast? I can’t decide what to make.
” She nudged aside ingredients, willing Malcolm to say something.
“Dunno,” he muttered, hunched over the table.
“I’ll start with eggs and toast, I guess,” she mused to herself, fluttering around Malcolm like a spinning top. “You still like grape jelly with extra butter?”