Chapter 3
ZENNIKA
I stand under the shower spray, letting the hot water wash away the stress of the day. Not that it's doing much for the tension in my shoulders—tension that has everything to do with the cowboy waiting on the other side of this thin motel bathroom door.
One room. Two beds. A thousand ways this could get complicated.
I shut off the water before I'm tempted to use up all the hot water, wrapping myself in a scratchy motel towel. My reflection in the steam-covered mirror is a blurry mess. My hair is plastered to my head, skin flushed from the heat. I swipe my hand across the glass, bringing my features into focus.
"Get it together," I mutter to myself. "It's one night. You're adults."
Adults who have history. Adults with chemistry, I'm finding increasingly difficult to ignore.
I pull on my sleep shorts and tank top, suddenly wishing I'd packed something less revealing. But I'd been planning on staying in a hotel alone, not sharing a motel room with six-feet-plus of aggravating cowboy.
Taking a deep breath, I open the bathroom door, a cloud of steam escaping with me.
Jude looks up from where he's sitting on his bed, phone in hand. His eyes widen slightly, gaze dropping briefly to my bare legs before snapping back to my face.
"Bathroom's free," I say, unnecessarily.
He clears his throat. "Thanks. I, uh, found a diner not far from here. Thought we could grab dinner after I shower. Unless you're too tired?"
My stomach growls in response, saving me from having to answer. "Dinner sounds good."
"Great." He stands, grabbing his duffel bag. "Won't be long."
As he passes me, his arm brushes mine, leaving a trail of heat that has nothing to do with my recent shower. The bathroom door clicks shut behind him, and I release the breath I didn't realize I was holding.
I busy myself with drying my hair and applying moisturizer, focusing on these mundane tasks instead of the fact that Jude Carson is naked in the shower just a few feet away. The sound of running water does nothing to help my imagination.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. A text from Abby.
Road trip with Jude??? OMG Zen! I need ALL the tea when you get here!
I roll my eyes, typing back: Me: Not what you think. Strictly a rescue mission. We still hate each other.
Her response is immediate: Abby: Uh-uh. He's only gotten hotter since high school, BTW. Those VibeGram pics of him on the ranch?
Me: Stop it. He's annoying.
Abby: Annoying HOT. You always did have a thing for him, even when you were pretending to hate him for my sake.
I nearly drop my phone. Me: I did NOT have a thing for him!
Abby: Whatever helps you sleep tonight... in the same room as him...
Me: I hate you.
Abby: Love you too! Drive safe and try not to kill each other before you get here!
I toss my phone aside, irritated by Abby's insinuations. I never had a "thing" for Jude. Sure, I noticed he was attractive—anyone with functioning eyeballs would—but that doesn't mean I liked him. Especially not after he hurt my best friend.
The bathroom door opens, and Jude emerges in a cloud of steam, wearing nothing but jeans and drying his hair with a towel.
His chest is bare, revealing the kind of muscles that come from actual physical labor rather than hours at the gym.
A light dusting of dark hair trails down his stomach, disappearing beneath his waistband.
I snap my eyes back to his face, praying he didn't notice me staring. "That was fast."
"Military father," he says by way of explanation. "You learn to shower efficiently." He pulls a gray t-shirt from his bag and tugs it over his head. The material stretches across his broad shoulders, doing nothing to disguise the physique underneath.
I swallow hard, switching my attention to finding a pair of sweatpants to pull over my shorts. "Ready when you are."
"Let me just grab my boots."
Five minutes later, we're driving down the quiet road toward the diner. The evening air is cool, stars beginning to appear in the darkening sky. It's the kind of night that feels infinite, full of possibility.
"Beautiful out here," I say, breaking the companionable silence that's fallen between us.
"One of the things I love about this part of the country," Jude agrees. "No light pollution. You can actually see the stars."
"We don't get views like this in Seattle. Too many city lights, too much rain."
"You miss it? The city?"
I consider this. "Parts of it. I miss the coffee shops and the energy. But I don't miss the constant noise or the traffic."
"Could you ever live somewhere like this? Small town, middle of nowhere?"
The question catches me off guard. "I don't know. Maybe. If I had a good reason to." I glance at him. "Could you ever live in a city again?"
He shakes his head without hesitation. "Tried it for a year after college. Felt like I was suffocating. Need open space, room to breathe."
"That's why you chose the ranch life?"
"Part of it." He shoves his hands in his pockets. "Always loved horses, even as a kid. Working with them... it centers me. Makes sense in a way other things never did."
There's something raw and honest in his voice that makes me look at him—really look at him. The boy I remember from high school was cocky, always performing, always the life of the party. This man beside me has a quiet confidence, a centeredness that's completely new.
The diner appears ahead, a retro building with neon signs and large windows spilling warm light onto the sidewalk. Jude holds the door for me, and we're greeted by the smell of coffee and grilled burgers.
A waitress with gray hair piled on top of her head greets us with a warm smile. "Sit anywhere you like, sweethearts."
We choose a booth by the window. The vinyl seats squeak as we slide in, and laminated menus await us on the table. It's like stepping back in time, right down to the jukebox in the corner playing an old Patsy Cline song.
"What's good here?" I ask, scanning the extensive menu.
"Can't go wrong with the burgers," Jude says. "And if they have pie, always get the pie."
The waitress returns with water glasses and her order pad. "What can I get you folks?"
We both order burgers and fries, and I add a chocolate milkshake to my order. Jude raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment.
"What?" I challenge once the waitress leaves. "Judging my dietary choices?"
"Not at all," he says, that almost-smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Just remembering how you used to lecture everyone about the evils of processed sugar."
"People change," I say with a shrug. "Life's too short to miss out on milkshakes."
"I'll drink to that." He lifts his water glass in a mock toast. "So, what else has changed about Zennika Wallace in the past decade?"
I consider the question, genuinely reflecting. "I'm less rigid. More willing to accept that plans fall apart sometimes. Plane crashes in Kansas being Exhibit A."
"That's quite an evolution for someone who used to color-code her homework schedule."
"Jason has a big mouth," I mutter, but there's no real irritation behind it. "What about you? Besides the obvious ranch success."
He leans back, considering. "I've learned to slow down. Be patient. Working with horses teaches you that you can't rush things that matter."
"Sounds suspiciously like wisdom," I tease.
"Don't tell anyone. I've got a reputation to maintain."
Our food arrives, momentarily halting the conversation. The burgers are massive, loaded with toppings and served alongside a mountain of crispy fries. My milkshake comes in a tall glass with whipped cream and a cherry on top.
"Looks amazing," I say to the waitress.
"Best burgers in the county," she assures us with a wink. "Holler if you need anything else."
We dig in, and for a few minutes, there's nothing but the sounds of appreciation as we eat.
"So," Jude says eventually, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Any serious relationships in the past few years? Or are you still scaring men off with that death glare you perfected in high school?"
The question catches me off guard. "Bold of you to assume I date men exclusively," I counter, enjoying the way his eyebrows shoot up. "But yes, there have been a few relationships. Nothing that stuck."
"Why not?" he asks, seeming genuinely curious.
I take a sip of my milkshake, considering how honest to be. "My last serious boyfriend claimed I was 'emotionally unavailable.' Said I kept one foot out the door the whole time."
"Were you?"
"Probably," I admit. "My job takes up a lot of space in my life. Most guys say they're fine with a career-focused woman until they realize it means I'm not dropping everything to make them dinner after they've had a bad day."
Jude nods thoughtfully. "That's fair. Relationships take sacrifice on both sides."
"What about you? I'm sure the rugged rancher lifestyle has women lining up."
He laughs, the sound warm. "Not exactly. Turns out women who are attracted to the idea of dating a cowboy lose interest when they realize it means I'm up at 4 AM and smell like horses half the time."
"No rancher's daughter who shares your passion?"
"There was someone, about two years ago," he says, his expression growing more serious. "Emily. She was in veterinary medicine, specialized in large animals. We were together for almost a year."
"What happened?" I ask, then quickly add, "If you don't mind my asking."
"She got an offer to join a prestigious practice in Kentucky. Horse country. Her dream job." He shrugs, but I can see the old hurt beneath the casual gesture. "I couldn't leave the ranch, and she couldn't turn down the opportunity."
"I'm sorry," I say, meaning it. "Long distance wasn't an option?"
"We tried for a few months. But her hours were crazy, and with the time difference..." He trails off. "Some things just aren't meant to work out, no matter how much you want them to."