CHAPTER 12
Murphy
I thought that a two-hour workout followed by a steamy shower session riding the wall dildo I packed would sap all my foolish desires for one day. I was wrong. So very, very wrong.
Seeing Jesse dive deeper into ‘my world’ only makes me want to attain the unattainable even more, to imagine that we could share a life. And it’s my own damn fault.
Maybe I should have elaborated about what type of dance show this was. The awestruck look on his face is messing with my head. Why can’t I ever say no to him? I sure as shit wish I had this time because I never in a million years would have imagined that he’d be enjoying a male strip show.
Beaming, he glances back at me and chuckles as if to ask, ‘Are you seeing this?’ He’s on his damn feet, bopping in time with the music, his beer in one hand, the other in the air, cheering on the dancers with everyone else in the ballroom. He freaking fits right in while my ass is planted in this seat in shock.
A dancer saunters closer to our table, wriggling his hips in time to the thump of the music. Peeling off his crop top, he spins it around and tosses it, hitting Jesse in the face.
I hold my breath, waiting for his breaking point, but when he pulls the thin fabric away, he’s cackling and lets out a whoop! Hell. I’ve created a monster.
Of course, he likes it. He’s probably in awe over the fact that men can actually strip too and that it doesn’t have to be to rock hits of the 80s. However, Lil Nas X’s ‘That’s What I Want’ is doing fuck all for my resolve to ditch silly notions of Jesse and me as a couple.
“Hey! I’m going to get another drink,” I shout. An ice-cold drink that I hope I spill in my lap, I don’t add. “Do you want anything?”
“No! I’m good. Man, these guys are awesome! I can’t wait to tell the girls when we get home.”
Of course. The girls. That’s the only reason he’s into this life experience.
Sighing, I wade my way through the tables and the crowd over to the bar. I couldn’t wait to get away from home when I was there, but now I can’t wait to get back. At least, at home, I’ll have Mom, Auggie, and Breathless to distract me from all the reasons why I like Jesse Carver.
Winter is an idle time on the orchard once I get the pruning done, though. I’ll need more than Breathless reruns and ice fishing to drown out my misery. I’m bound to see even more of Jesse than I do during the summer and fall. It will be an ice-cold hell. Maybe instead of finding someone for myself, I should find someone for him, someone who wants him all to themselves.
While the idea makes me nauseous, I know it’s for the best. He’s a black hole, slowly swallowing me up the longer I’m around him while I’m like this. The only thing that could pull him from my clutches is the female equivalent of Philip.
“Not into the show?” a voice to my right calls.
Glancing over, I take in the guy next to me who’s leaning on the bar. His T-shirt clings to his tan arms like a second skin. He’s thick, but I don’t miss the muscle tone in that thickness—all the way down to his snug-fitting jeans. With his dark hair and the dark lashes surrounding those storm cloud-gray eyes, he is without a doubt handsome as all get out, but… he’s not Jesse Carver.
“Nah, it’s, um… it’s great. I just needed a breather.”
His mouth ticks up at the corner in silent understanding as he takes a sip of his beer.
Waiting on the bartender, I don’t realize I’ve let out a sigh until I hear the man’s voice again. “Having a bad day?”
After Philip, I should probably be wary of anyone who takes an interest in me, but something about this guy says he’s this mellow all the time. I can’t see him following me around and pawing at me like I’m a cat tree he wants to climb.
“A bad month, actually,” I let out on a sardonic laugh, so I don’t sound like I’m about to unload my woes on him. “Turns out vacations don’t exactly make you forget your problems.”
Chuckling, he nods. “They should put that disclaimer in the advertisements.” Sighing, he straightens up, stretching out his back with one hand above his belt line. “I travel all the time for work. I don’t know why I made myself fly all the way across the country for recreation.”
“West coast?”
“Yeah. Well, not on the coast. Bend, Oregon. You’ve probably never heard of it. It’s kind of out in the middle of nowhere.”
I don’t know why that has me perking up, but I feel a sense of kinship knowing there’s someone here who lives in the sticks like I do.
“No, I know it. I’m from Washington.”
“Really? What part?”
“Central. Have you ever heard of Wenatchee?”
“Yeah.” He smiles. “No kidding? I go up to Ellensburg for the rodeos.”
Shut the front door. “You… rodeo?”
“No. I raise show cattle. I’m not a rodeo rider or anything like that. Ranching’s hell enough on my back. I don’t need to get thrown off a cow or horse just for the hell of it. Not enough money in the world for that if you ask me.”
“Get the hell out. I used to go to the Ellensburg Rodeo with my dad when I was younger.”
“No shit?” He laughs, turning to face me. “Small world.”
“Yeah. Definitely.”
Finally, someone I connect with, and not by way of affixing themselves to my appendages. We gaze over the ballroom in amicable silence. It’s the first sense of ease I’ve found on this trip. Sometimes being able to share silence comfortably with someone is just as important as being able to converse with them. Jesse and I have that… once he burns off his energy. I don’t know how long it will take me to relinquish the number one spot in my heart to another person, but it probably couldn’t hurt to make another friend.
“I think that was the first time I really acknowledged without a doubt that I was gay,” I tell the kindly stranger. “The first rodeo my dad took me to,” I elaborate. “I was fascinated by all the cowboys in their tight jeans.”
Chuckling, he turns back to the bar, leaning on his folded arms. “Might have been mine, too. Guess I’m still fascinated, if I’m being honest.”
We share a laugh over that. Damned if I know why, since I sure didn’t feel like socializing tonight, but I extend my hand eagerly.
“I’m Murphy, by the way.”
Glancing down at my hand, the corner of his mouth ticks up before he returns his gaze to mine. The strength in his hand is evident, along with the calluses from hard work as he shakes mine.
“Rod. Nice to meet you, Murphy, from Wenatchee.”
There’s an unspoken approval in his eyes over a good old-fashioned handshake I admire. No vanity. No coquettishness. No flare. Yeah. Rod and I could get along.
“So, you don’t go to the rodeo anymore?”
“Nah. My dad passed, and our orchard keeps me pretty busy. No time for ogling cowboys.”
Shit. That sounded like a pickup line. He’s kind of a cowboy, isn’t he? Not exactly the friendship flag I was trying to raise.
“Ah, I’m sorry. Running any kind of land is more than a full-time job. I know that all too well, and I’ve got my brother to help me.”
“It’s fine. He’s been gone three years now. It’s just me and my mom. We don’t have a huge operation, but, yeah, it’s time-consuming.”
“Well, I’m glad you took some time away for yourself. Meeting another farmer here makes me feel less guilty about getting away.”
“I know what you mean. Not much time for vacations when you’re your own boss.”
“Worst boss I ever had,” he jokes, and I share in his laughter because I feel that sentiment in my bones—the responsibility of knowing not just your livelihood but your family’s namesake rests on your shoulders.
We talk about our work for a while, falling into easy conversation. It’s surreal to learn how often he’s near the same locale as me after living a lifetime feeling like I was the only rainbow fish in a big pond. It’s… comforting to meet someone whose lifestyle is similar to mine. And, he’s met Lasso Ted. Lasso Ted! Not just seen him at a show, he knows him. I didn’t even know Lasso Ted was still alive.
I don’t realize how close we’ve shifted toward each other to hear over the music until he nudges my shoulder with his. “You should come down to Ellensburg sometime. Give yourself a break. I’ll be back up there in November. We could critique the cowboys together. My brother would thank you,” he jokes.
“Not a cowboy fan, is he?”
Snorting, he takes a sip of his beer and then grins. “No. He’s more of a barrel bunny fan.”
I feel body heat behind me. My initial instinct is to flinch, but instead, my skin tingles. I know in an instant that the chest pressing against my back is Jesse’s.
“Hey! Did you get lost?” he asks, draping an arm over my shoulder, pressing closer.
Rod straightens up, looking apprehensive. Crap. I probably look like a player now. I was really starting to like the prospect of having a new friend and don’t want to blow it by appearing taken and unfaithful.
I turn around to create some space between Jesse and me, so he’ll hopefully get the hint that he can stand down. Smiling, he reaches out.
Why is he grabbing my face?
It feels like slow motion—his fingers clasping my jaw on either side. His face moving closer to mine. My heartbeat screeching to a halt. His mouth…
His mouth crashes into mine, smashing my teeth against my lips.
Ouch! That actually fucking hurt—but still…
It’s Jesse’s lips against mine. Jesse’s… and mine.
He’s kissing me.
Drawing back, his mouth parts, and he stares at me, staring at him. I want to pull him back and tell him to give me a redo on the world’s worst kiss that’s somehow still the best I’ve ever had. I want to not wonder what’s going through his head or why he did it and just haul him up to my room, so I can show him all night long how to really kiss. And I want to know why the hell he’s smiling now, slinking his arm around my shoulders, and looking at Rod.
“Keeping an eye on my fella for me?” he quips.
‘His fella?’ What the fuck?
Rod’s gaze flicks to mine. The embarrassment on his face is clear and probably matches mine. A sick sensation of apprehension washes over me.
“Um. Yeah,” Rod concurs, but it doesn’t escape my notice that he takes a casual step back. “He’s safe and sound. No harm done.”
Tilting his beer at me, Rod slips away before I can even formulate words. I’m left gaping at Jesse, who drops his hold on me. He sidles up to the bar and orders himself another beer. Another beer! Like nothing just happened.
He kissed me. Right? Or… mouth-smashed me. Whatever.
That really just happened. I didn’t imagine it.
It had to have happened because my entire body is on fire. My channel is clenching at the memory of my frustrated shower session this morning where Jesse was a guest star in the fog of my frustration and desire.
When he finally looks at me, it’s like he’s putting pieces together. Glancing at the direction Rod went, he grins and flashes me a wink.
“You’re welcome,” he chirps, taking a swig of his beer.
Something inside of me dies, and then it comes back to life, resurrected by unrequited love and months of sexual frustration. He only kissed me to cockblock me.
“What the fuck did you do that for?” I grit.
“I was saving you. Wasn’t it obvious?” He chuckles. The sound grates on my nerves instead of lighting me up like it usually does. “Looks like it worked, too,” he adds, sounding way too proud of himself. “You can buy my next beer as a thank you.”
“I didn’t need saving, numbnuts. I was enjoying talking to the guy. He just asked me to meet him at the rodeo in Ellensburg, but then you came along and pulled that shit.”
“Ellensburg? At the rodeo? Oh… wait. You mean to like…”
For the love of all that is holy, he’s finger-fighting again. I might hurt him. How can I want someone who makes me want to hurt them?
Watching him stab his stupid fingers together, looking completely unfazed about the prospect of me fucking someone other than him, someone I didn’t even have ideas about fucking, is the last straw. It’s the last shred of rejection that I can bear. I needed it. I know I did, but damn it. This is not a vacation any longer. It’s freaking exposure therapy.
Spinning around, I shout to the bartender, ordering myself an entire bottle of scotch. Jesse makes a comment about us partying it up, but I ignore it. Palming the bottle, I grunt a goodnight to him and turn on my heel toward the exit.
“Murph! Hey, where are you going?”
“To my room.”
“What? Why? Wait. I’ve still got to get my drink.”
I don’t wait. I don’t answer when he calls after me again. I don’t stop. I just keep on walking, fueled by annoyance, pathetic heartache, and a big stupid love that shouldn’t exist.