Chapter 15
Trey
Istand frozen, my hand on Jessie’s ass. Our chests both heave, out of breath from our paint fight.
“Trey?”
“Yeah?”
“Your hand is on my ass.”
“Yep, it sure is.” I immediately remove my hand only to find a perfect painted outline. I bite down on my lip, fighting off my laugh. And my boner.
Fuck, that spiraled fast.
She turns to face me, but doesn’t step away, with our bodies still touching. I prepare myself for her to tell me off, but she doesn’t. My eyes roam her face—is that desire in her hazel eyes?
Her cheeks are flushed, breaths shallow.
My hand comes back up to her hip before I can stop it.
I stop breathing when her hand grips my T-shirt at the waist. I dip my head slightly, bringing my forehead a breath away from hers. Paint drips down our noses. I can feel it on my arms, in my hair. We’re a mess, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Moving in with Jessie, getting to see more sides of her, has been the best adventure I’ve ever had. It might not be what I was expecting, and I don’t know how to feel about it, but I do know I don’t want it to stop.
“Come to Arizona with me,” I blurt.
Okay, apparently dragging her halfway across the country is how I feel about it.
She shakes her head. Her hair that’s fallen loose brushes my forehead.
“Come on, come with me.”
“I can’t. I have to work,” she says, but doesn’t move. We’re still holding each other, covered in paint.
“All you do is work. I know you have PTO. Come with me. They’ll fly us out first class and put us up in a swanky hotel. You can eat pillow mints and drink all the mini shooters from the bar.”
She chuckles softly. Her fingers fidget with my shirt as she rolls her lips together. She wants to say yes, I can see it all over her face, but she won’t let herself. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, you don’t have to be sorry. Let me know if you change your mind.” I don’t know why I suddenly want her to go so badly. We aren’t even sleeping together—we’re nothing but roommates building a tentative friendship.
She nods, finally stepping away.
“So, would now be a good time to tell you there is a perfect handprint on your ass?”
She contorts herself in a way that makes my back ache just watching as she spins in a circle like a dog chasing her tail. “You did not.”
“I didn’t mean to. I mean, I did, but I didn’t think through the paint handprint part.”
She harrumphs and storms off towards the bathroom.
“So, just to be clear, you don’t have a spanking kink?” I ask, poking my head around the corner.
She throws a lotion bottle out the bathroom door at my head. “I didn’t hear a no.” I laugh, dodging the second object she throws at me.
Takeout bags crinkle as Jessie digs around for more curly fries.
We’ve finished painting for the night, and now we’re sitting on the dining room floor, leaning against the wall, eating from Styrofoam containers.
The kitchen and dining room are still covered in plastic, and cabinet doors are drying on every available surface.
We can’t go to the living room because we’re both covered in paint.
It’s been a good day. The cabinets look great, and Jessie seems lighter, like a small weight has been lifted off her shoulders.
“What’s it like?” She rolls her head against the wall to face me.
I crinkle my brow in response.
“Traveling, seeing the country,” she clarifies.
I swallow, thinking about my answer. I’ve never really thought about it. It’s just what I do. “It’s cool, but we don’t get to see much. Being in a different town each night doesn’t leave a lot of time for sightseeing. Someday, I want to enter fewer rodeos and go see some sights between rides.”
“What would you like to see first?”
“Hm. I’d probably spend time in the Pacific Northwest. I love it up there—it’s my favorite place to rodeo. It has great hiking and several underrated state and national parks.”
“So, why are you here?”
My brows pull together again.
Sensing it, she expands, “Why’d you move to Colorado? You could go anywhere, but you came here.”
“Because Knox came here. He’s my family,” I answer without hesitation.
She blinks at me. “I can understand that. I’ve always wanted to travel, but I could never leave Cottonwood Valley. This is home, but I’d love to see the country someday.”
“Where would you go first?”
“Maybe Utah—they have Arches National Park and a few other cool things to see.”
“I love Utah. They have great rodeos—Ogden, Salt Lake City, and Spanish Fork.”
“What’s riding a bull like? Is it all a blur and extreme adrenaline rush?”
I chuckle. “Adrenaline rush for sure. We’re all adrenaline junkies.
But it’s not really a blur. Everything moves fast and you don’t have time to think, but at the same time, a million thoughts cross your mind at once.
You can see everything, but it’s kind of like watching things unfold in fast forward.
It’s tough to put into words. I think that’s why so many people say they want to try it—it’s unlike anything else.
You can try skydiving, whitewater rafting, or motocross, but nothing compares to tying yourself to a two-thousand-pound animal that could kill you. ”
Jessie absorbs every word. She’s genuinely interested, and it feels good.
“I know we’re either crazy or stupid, maybe a little of both. Ever since I got on my first bull, I knew I’d never get enough of it.”
“You’re right.” She nods adamantly, lips pressed tightly, fighting a smile. “You are stupid.”
“Hey!” I spin and start tickling her rib cage.
She laughs, squeals, and squirms until she’s begging for mercy. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” She huffs, out of breath. Her head falls against my shoulder.
We sit in silence for a few long minutes, comfortable with each other in the quiet.
“What’s being a nurse like?” I ask.
“I already told you.”
“No, you told me why you wanted to be one. Not what it’s like.”
She spins the ring on her index finger, a nervous tic I’ve noticed before.
“It’s . . . hard. I love helping people, but sometimes I dread going to work.
I think I’m burned out. The insane hours, the people who refuse help, or worse—their bodies refuse it for them.
Sometimes, after we lose someone, I can still see their face when I close my eyes at night.
That’s not something nursing school can really prepare you for. ”
“Jessie, if you ever need someone to talk to about it, I’m here. And you could cut back on hours, take this trip with me, and I can help with more bills around here. I really don’t mind.”
“No, you pay me a ridiculous amount in rent, and my bills aren’t the prob—” She stops before finishing, but I know what she was about to say.
It’s not her bills that are the issue. It’s Dot’s.
I gathered rather quickly after moving in that Jessie helps her a lot.
She gathers takeout boxes and stands to take them to the trash.
I rise and follow.
Her back is to me, shoulders tense.
“I know you help Dot . . . let me help you.”
“No. And it’s none of your business.” She turns and walks away, clearly finished with this conversation. We’ve had a good day together, and I don’t want to ruin it, so I let it drop.
If she won’t let me help with bills, I’ll damn sure show her as much of this world as I can. Even if she won’t let me start with Arizona.