Chapter 20
Jessie
The sliding glass door screeches as I yank it open, rushing inside. I curse the adorable open floor plan of this tiny house as I hide in the bathroom, locking the door behind me.
I am an idiot.
What the hell was I thinking letting Trey kiss me?
I practically asked him to. He went slow, and he gave me every opportunity to push him away, but I didn’t.
I should’ve stopped it before it ever started because that was the best kiss of my life.
I could’ve stayed in that hot tub kissing him until the sun came up, but that’s not our reality.
Between this and strip gin, we’re pushing every boundary and crossing way too many lines. I’ve let my guard down since our paint fight—openly flirting and spending way too much time together—but this went way past flirting and straight into fuck-me-in-a-hot-tub territory.
If that’s what he can do with his tongue during a kiss, what else can he do with it?
Stop it. Don’t think about that.
I’ve been pent up since I met with Daryl to give him more money last week.
After he left the note on my car, he’s been increasingly agitated, and it has me on edge, constantly looking over my shoulder.
I haven’t seen or heard from him in two days, but I can’t let my guard down.
I blame my lack of self-preservation when it comes to Trey on my fried nerves.
I’m not just keeping Trey at arm’s length to protect myself; I’m keeping him at arm’s length to protect him. All it takes is me pissing off Daryl one time, and he’ll take it out on Trey.
“That can’t happen again. He’s not safe with me.
Plus, he’s leaving in a few weeks anyway, so it’s pointless, and I refuse to be played by a player.
That’s why he kisses so well—no man who looks like him and kisses like that is a one-woman man.
Heartbreak is the last thing I need,” I mumble to myself.
Oh my gosh. I’m going insane, talking to myself in the bathroom.
I shake my head, clearing it before I crack open the door and peek out. All clear—he must still be outside. I scurry to my suitcase and grab my pajamas before locking myself back in the bathroom.
I shower, change, and do my skincare. I’m almost finished when I hear the sliding patio door open and close.
I can hear Trey’s bare feet pad through the space and the clink of two wine glasses being placed in the sink.
He’s leaning on the small kitchen counter when I exit the bathroom.
I head straight for my suitcase, grabbing a pair of socks without making eye contact.
“Jessie,” Trey exhales.
I stiffen, but don’t turn around to face him. “Don’t. We don’t need to talk about it. It won’t happen again.”
“Why the hell not?”
I mentally sputter. I wasn’t expecting him to question me. Trey has always flirted, but he’s never pushed the subject, not like this. But then again, we’ve never kissed before. I’ve also never dry-humped him.
Stupid. Stupid.
I face him, willing my voice to steady. “Because it won’t. It’s a bad idea; we’re a bad idea. Leave it at that. Please . . .” My words trail off.
He drags a hand down his face and nods.
Relieved the subject has been dropped, I move to the bed and pull back the covers.
I do a quick count, assessing the situation before grabbing both pillows off the chairs in the living space to join the four on the bed.
I start neatly tucking them under the covers, starting by the foot of the bed, working my way up.
“Uh, what are you doing?” Trey’s voice halts my movements.
“Building a pillow wall. Duh.”
He scoffs. “A pillow wall?”
I nod and resume my work.
“Hawkins, do you need a pillow wall in order to keep your hands off me?”
I don’t need to look; I can hear the cocky smirk in his words. I whip a pillow his way so quickly he doesn’t have time to react. It smacks him in the face, giving me immense satisfaction.
He laughs and tosses the pillow back onto the bed before grabbing a change of clothes and going into the bathroom, but not before he stops behind me and whispers in my ear. “If you want to touch me, all you have to do is ask, baby.”
I swallow, his deep rasp causes wetness to gather between my legs for the second time tonight.
I am so screwed.
Kacey
Send me behind the scenes photos! And photos if you go hiking!
Kacey
How’s it going? Are you having fun?
Jessie
Yeah, it’s really cool. Only one bed at the Airbnb, though. But don’t worry, my virtue is safe. I built a pillow wall.
Kacey
Your virtue ship sailed long ago... but I’m happy you’re living out your one bed at the inn fantasy dreams. You know those always end with them boning, right?
Jessie
Actually, they don’t all end that way which I find disappointing.
It’s just past noon at the photoshoot. Trey has had his picture taken with different trucks and off-road vehicles all morning. We’re in the high desert, the landscape a mix of red rocks, pine trees, and mountains. Even at this elevation, it’s hot with the Arizona sun beating down on us.
He walks toward me, dressed in his black cowboy hat, a red, long-sleeved button-down shirt with all his sponsors embroidered on it, creased jeans, and cowboy boots. It’s so not fair that he doesn’t even have to try to be sexy, he just is.
I catch myself clenching my thighs together because there is nothing on earth hotter than a cowboy.
“Hey, they want you to ride with me for a little bit. They’re going to take some video footage. You okay with that?”
“Yeah, sure, sounds fun. But only if I get to drive when we’re done.” I would’ve worn something nicer than my jean shorts and white tank if I’d known I’d end up in a video, but they must not mind.
“Oh, yeah. They’ll let you. We typically spend a couple of hours screwing around with a few of the dune buggies afterwards. Greg said they’ve got a branded shirt you can change into.” Trey gestures to Greg, who’s walking our way with a shirt in his hand.
“Perfect. I’m in, let’s go.”
Greg hands me the shirt. “Let me know where to mail the check.”
Check? What is he talking about?
He chuckles at my obvious confusion. “You didn’t think we’d ask you to model and not pay you? The base rate is $100 per hour, if that’s okay.”
He’s serious. He’s going to pay me to sit in a truck next to Trey. I do that for free all the time. I wonder how long we’ll shoot for. This could be money Daryl will never know about. I can save it or buy myself something.
“Thank you. That’s really nice of you. I’ll get you my address before we go.”
Trey walks me to a blacked out nineties Bronco that has been modified into an open cab. He opens the passenger door for me before getting in and starting the truck.
Trey turns to me, tilts his cowboy hat up, then lowers his sunglasses so I can see his blue eyes.
“You might want to buckle up; this will be a little wild.” He gives me a wink and throws the vehicle into drive as I double-check my seatbelt.
After last night, this is exactly what I need—an adrenaline rush.
“Well, Hawkins, think you can handle the dune buggy?” Trey asks several hours later as we step around one of the off-road vehicles that looks like some kind of transformer. Roll cage included—sweet.
“Send it, Jessie! You can’t hurt it!” Greg hollers from his own vehicle.
I climb into the driver’s seat and buckle in. Greg gave me a blue helmet with a reflective visor. I put it on and flip up the visor. “The real question is, can it handle me?”
“I’m starting to wonder if anything could handle you,” Trey says, voice low.
I slap my visor down and lean into his space. “Maybe you could if you’re lucky.”
His eyes heat, but I don’t pause to enjoy my effect on Trey. I stomp on the accelerator, speeding away from the group. He instantly flips his visor down and grabs the dash with one hand and the oh-shit handle with the other.
“I’m starting to question if this was a good idea!
” He sounds nervous as we speed across the sand.
I laugh and spin the wheel, whipping a doughnut, before throwing the steering wheel the other direction, making a figure eight.
We tip, leaving only two tires on the ground as we slide around another circle.
“Listen, I’m always down for a good time, but I do enjoy living!” Trey yells as I kick up dust everywhere.
I straighten out and line up with a big hill. “How fast can this thing go?”
“This one? Sixty or seventy. But this isn’t a race, Jessie, and we shouldn’t—”
I punch it right toward the hill.
“Jeessiee . . .” Trey lets out what can only be described as a warning screech.
I can’t see his eyes, but the way he’s bracing himself, I can only imagine how big they are right now. We hit the top of the hill and go flying off, then we’re floating.
I let out a “Wahooo!” before laughing maniacally.
Trey screams like a girl.
We hit the ground on the other side, and I line it out before going into another figure eight. The smile on my face probably makes me look like a psychopath, but this is absolutely the most fun thing I have ever done.
“We’re going to die. I’m. Going. To die,” Trey yells as he holds on for dear life. “No,” he continues, “first I’m gonna throw up, then I’m going to die.”
“Oh, stop being dramatic. You have plot armor; you’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know what that means!” he shouts as I line us up for another jump.