“Don’t stop,” I gasped as he stood, chest heaving.
“I hate these fucking shorts,” he said, his words wrenched from somewhere primal. He gripped my shorts tight in his firm hands, pulling my hips forward to feel every hard, delicious inch of his desire for me straining against his jeans. I groaned, despising the cumbersome layers between our bodies.
“I thought you liked them,” I said, smiling breathlessly at him.
“I’d like them a lot more on the floor,” he growled, bending his head to catch my mouth again. His hands slid over the curves of my ass, lifting me until I wrapped my thighs around his waist.
Oh fuck.
I could feel the entire length of him, exactly where I wanted him to be. My hips ground against him. I tossed my head back as he pressed against me even harder. All thought shattered. His tongue traced my pulse, and I pulled his hair, desperate for him.
“The room,” I managed between heaving breaths as his hands and hips forced a choked scream from me. “We have to get to the room.” I wrenched his mouth to mine again, tasting deep that whiskey and sin flavor.
His body stilled, muscles tense. I pulled my head back to catch my breath. Not understanding his sudden hesitation.
“I can be quiet,” I said, misreading the stillness. “Or I can bite a pillow. The Kid sleeps like a rock, it’ll be—"
All at once I remembered.
Clara.
Her name rang through me and settled like a stone in the pit of my stomach. We couldn’t go back to the room because his fiancée was waiting in bed for him. Suddenly, what’d felt more right than any casual night of passion twisted into something cheap. Of course he tasted like whiskey and sin; he was drunk with me instead of the woman who would be his wife.
“Put me down,” I whispered. I dragged in harsh lungfuls of air, attempting to still my riotous heart. I braced myself against him to put my feet back on solid ground as the cold night air rushed into the inches between our bodies. His hands were in my hair; he tried to guide my eyes up to his. He leaned down to capture my mouth with his again. I pulled back, something sharp twisting in my chest as I denied him.
My chest heaved, either from our passionate actions or the effort it took not to let the heat gathering in my eyes turn into tears.
“Bonnie—"
“It’s fine, Jesse,” I said, my voice too raw.
“It’s not that I don’t want to. Fuck, you know I want to,” he said. I closed my eyes against the shame coating my skin. Of course that was what he wanted.
“It was a mistake,” I said, leveling him with a direct stare. My words hit him like a physical blow; his body recoiled from them. He furrowed his brows in confusion, shaking his head as if he couldn’t accept them.
“You don’t mean that,” he said. I clenched my jaw against the pathetic words rising into the back of my throat. I love you. Choose me. Don’t leave me alone again.
“Of course I do,” I said, an incredulous, drunk laugh catching on the tears at the edge of my voice. “What are we even doing?” I asked, stepping away from him. “You barely know me.”
“I know you better than you think,” he said, his words angry.
“No,” I said, taking another step back. “No, you don’t. I’m just another whore in a hallway keeping you from a good woman waitin’ for you. Go back to your fiancée, Jesse. She won’t leave you, but I’m going to.”
“I don’t believe you,” he said, closing the distance between us. He towered over me, but I stood my ground. The scent of him, the warmth of his skin, the desperation in his eyes... it was all too much.
“You don’t believe me? I’ve said it repeatedly since we met. This is temporary. One day soon, I’m going to ride away. I’ve never lied about that,” I said, the truth of the words hanging low in the space between us. A dark omen, like black storm clouds in the distance, promising the arrival of devastation.
“You made an exception before. You can do it again,” he said. I couldn’t decipher the edge in his tone. If it was angry or frustrated or upset. Maybe he didn’t know either.
“No. I can’t,” I said, my words clipped. “You know that. And why would you even want me to?” His brows furrowed, and he reached for me then. I took a tentative step back, certain that if he touched me, my argument would crumble away like dust. “I sat with you in Santa Fe and watched you cry over the woman in that room. You said you’d give anything to see her again. And she’s here. On the other side of that door.”
He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, groaning through gritted teeth. “Home. I wanted home. She’s not home for me,” he said, blue eyes pleading with me in the darkness.
“I should’ve never made an exception for you,” I said, the words untrue. He leaned against the wall, mouth open but with no words left to try to convince me to stay. Part of me wanted him to try anyway. I nodded at his speechlessness, blinking hard to rid myself of tears I wouldn’t allow to fall. I walked away without looking back.
If I’d looked back, I would’ve let those traitorous words fall from my mouth to rid him of the betrayal in his beautiful blue eyes.
I love you. Choose me.
Don’t leave me alone again.
Chapter Twenty - Jesse
The words left unsaid burned on the tip of my tongue as she walked away. She disappeared among the busy crowd below. I put my head in my hands. How had everything gotten so fucked up? I’d tried to tell her what I felt. She didn’t want to hear it. I’d tried to show her. That wasn’t good enough either.
I ran my fingers through my hair, pacing across the landing. I wanted to march downstairs and demand she listen.
But I wouldn’t.
She’d made her mind up.
I should’ve never made an exception for you.
Before I realized it, I punched the wall. The wood cracked beneath my knuckles, and I pulled back, clutching it with my other hand. The door to our room squeaked open, and I peered over, finding Clara standing there. I turned my back, unable to look at her. It wasn’t her fault that I didn’t want her anymore.
“Jesse? What’s going on?” she asked.
“Nothing, Clara. Go back to bed,” I said, turning to the railing that overlooked the main floor. I stared into the crowded room but couldn’t find her.
“Come to bed,” Clara said as she walked over to me. She took my arm. I hesitated, not wanting to go to bed. Not without Bonnie. Not after knowing what it was like to sleep with her in my arms. But she didn’t want me. Not anymore.
I let Clara guide me inside the room and watched her shut the door. She tried to move me toward the empty bed, but I shook her off.
“What is it?” she asked, her voice almost too sweet. As though I was used to the harsh words and bitter tone of the woman downstairs.
“I’m just tired,” I said.
“Then come to bed.”
Clara climbed between the sheets, dressed in the clothes Bonnie’d given her earlier. I knew they’d smell like her. I couldn’t be anywhere near that right now.
Without a word, I kicked off my boots and grabbed one of our packs. I put it near the window and lay down on the floor, feeling Clara’s eyes on me the entire time.
I didn’t sleep. Not for hours. Then the nightmares started again.
Images flew through my mind. Sixgun with his belt around Bonnie’s neck. The man who’d taken The Kid. The first man I killed. The second. Bonnie, walking away from me. Over and over.
When I snapped awake, it was barely dawn. My shirt was soaked through with sweat. I sat up, taking inventory of the two bodies in the beds. Neither of them was Bonnie. I put my boots on, then tucked the pistol I’d stolen from that slaver in the back of my pants.
The bar was dark when I made my way down to the first floor. We had things to get done. If I couldn’t tell Bonnie how I felt, and if she was so determined that this thing had an expiration date, then I needed to start planning for that eventuality. As I walked to the exit, the barkeeper whistled to get
my attention.
“You left somethin’ down here,” she said, motioning with her head to the end of the bar.
There she was, seated on a barstool, alone, her head down on the hard surface. Bonnie had fallen asleep down here. Dull pain ached in my chest at the sight of her.
“She’s not mine,” I said, putting my hat on and walking out the door.
A few men milled out front, holding cups of coffee. Their eyes tracked me as I walked to the wagon. We needed to get these bars off. We couldn’t have people thinking we were slavers. Which, by the look they gave me, was exactly what they thought.
I headed down to the blacksmith with the wagon. For a few copper bits, he let me borrow his handheld torch. The work was slow, and my hands were covered in burns by the time I finished. Eventually, the bars were off of the wagon, left behind with the smith who told me he could repurpose them. As I climbed into the wagon, a man walked up.
“You better watch yourself,” he said. “Slavers don’t like to be stolen from.” Unconsciously, I put my hand on my pistol.
“Good thing these slavers are dead,” I said. The man’s eyes grew wide. I clicked my tongue, snapping the reins, and the horses took off, back down the main drag.
We needed to leave before anyone came looking for that wagon. The Kid stood next to Eagle, helping Bonnie with the saddlebags by the time I returned. Clara stood to one side, changed back into the filthy dress she’d been wearing when we found her. The purse at my side with the winnings from our con last night weighed heavily on me as I looked at Bonnie.
Her hair was pulled back, and she’d changed out of those provocative clothes. She wouldn’t look at me.
That was probably for the best.
“Jesse!” my brother shouted as he caught sight of me. He climbed up in the wagon. I was glad he wasn’t angry with me anymore, even if it was only because Bonnie told him to apologize to me. “Can I drive?”
I shrugged. “Sure. Why not?” I’d rather have the silence of riding my horse alone today. I handed the reins to him and climbed down from the wagon.
“Clara, we should get you something else to wear,” I said. “C’mon.” Without looking at Bonnie, I took Clara by the hand and led her down the street, remembering the shop that Bonnie had gone into when we were here before. The dress she wore was ragged; the skirt was torn and covered in dirt.
I immediately regretted walking into the shop with Clara. Her eyes grew wide with an excitement I remembered seeing on her face on market days when a traveler would bring fruit in the summer months. She’d wanted some of everything. I was usually the one paying.
“Just one,” I told her. She turned to me, her eyes sparkling. She trailed a finger down the middle of my chest.
“I’ll let you watch me change if I can have more than one,” she said, her voice low with promise. Once, I would have jumped at the opportunity. I grabbed her hand before she reached my belt.
“Just. One,” I said firmly, turning my back to her. She huffed and walked off toward the curtained changing room.
Another hour passed before we walked out of the store, Clara in her new dress and boots. She clutched my arm as I noted the position of the sun high in the sky. We were already so behind schedule this morning that I was sure we’d be sleeping on the road tonight.
“Finally,” The Kid said as we walked up. I mumbled an apology, refusing to look at Bonnie, who sat next to my brother in the wagon.
“Let’s head out. We’ve already lost too much daylight,” I said. Before I turned to climb up on No Name, I dared a glance at Bonnie. I shouldn’t have. Because her eyes were so intense as she stared at me in silence. I couldn’t tell what she felt; I didn’t like that. I liked that I could read her emotions most of the time. I liked being able to tell her thoughts just by looking at her. It was why she’d never be good at playing cards. Her poker face sucked.
Except today, it seemed, she’d learned how to wear one.
“Thank you for my new dress,” Clara said, using her fingertips to turn my head toward her. She leaned up, pressing her lips to mine in a quick kiss. It was different from the quiet kisses we once shared. It felt... wrong. My eyes went to Bonnie the moment Clara pulled back. Her steely gaze faltered for half a second. Jealousy flared, bright and prevalent in her dark blue eyes. Then the emotion disappeared, and her poker face returned in full force.
“Clara,” I said, staring pointedly at Bonnie. “Ride with me.”
Clara’s eyes sparkled as she climbed down from the wagon. I helped her onto my horse and settled in front of her on the saddle. If the only way to get to Bonnie was to show Clara affection, I’d do it.
By the time we cleared the edges of Lamesa, it was the middle of the day. I cringed every time Clara gripped me. The wrongness of her touch was amplified the longer she clung to me. At first, our progress was slow going as The Kid learned how to steer the wagon. Eventually, he found his stride. Still, we couldn’t ride full out, as we had with just the two horses.
I’d glance at Bonnie every once in a while, finding her eyes straight ahead. I guess we weren’t talking anymore. Even if she was calling me an idiot or farm boy, I missed her acknowledging my existence. The insults were better than the cold shoulder.
“Do you remember,” Clara said, her head perched on my shoulder, “that night in your barn?” Her arms tightened around my waist. I closed my eyes, wishing I didn’t remember that night. Clara’s voice was low, but not low enough that the others couldn’t hear if they were listening.
“No,” I said, trying to inflect in my tone for her to shut up. Apparently, Clara couldn’t take a hint.
“Remember when you said you wanted to have a dozen kids?” she asked. I stole a glance at Bonnie. Were her hands gripping Eagle’s reins tighter?
“No,” I said, my voice louder. “I don’t.” I remembered when she snuck out to the farm and we stayed up talking on quiet nights. At least, she would talk all night. I would put in my two cents between kissing her, tell her what I thought she wanted to hear. All with the end goal of getting her dress off.
I might have said I wanted a dozen kids with her. That didn’t mean it was true.
“Yes, well, we didn’t just talk in that barn. Did we?” she asked, tossing a grin at me. Her voice seemed louder than before.
“I said a lot of things back in Montana, Clara,” I said, lowering my voice. “In case you haven’t noticed, we aren’t in Montana anymore.” When we stopped tonight, I decided, Clara was going to ride with The Kid. Making Bonnie jealous wasn’t worth this.
Sometime later, when the sun dipped low against the western horizon, Bonnie finally spoke.
“We won’t make it to the next town tonight.” Her voice startled my ears; the harshness of her tone gave me a strange sort of comfort.
I didn’t respond. Instead, I steered No Name to the side of the trail, finding a clump of trees and bushes where we could make camp tonight. The three of us—me, The Kid, and Bonnie—went about our normal routine, unpacking the saddlebags, feeding and watering the horses, building a fire, passing around rations. I was exhausted, but I knew sleep wouldn’t find me tonight.
Once everyone settled in, I made for the wagon.
“Why aren’t you sleeping with Bonnie?” The Kid asked, noticing my bedroll still wrapped up on its own. I stopped, the tension whipping my body straight. “You always sleep with Bonnie.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, letting out a low breath. He didn’t know any better.
It’s not The Kid’s fault.
“Someone’s gotta keep watch, Kid,” I said, my face flushed. I spared a glance in Bonnie’s direction and found her staring back at me. Her eyes mirrored the longing in my chest. My stomach flipped as I remembered how she’d gone pliant in my arms last night. If only I’d have been able to get those shorts off.
No. She regretted it. She didn’t want me.
I walked to the wagon where we’d left it, checking our surroundings constantly. We couldn’t have been that
far from where we were attacked. Someone had to stand guard. I didn’t want to be plagued by nightmares again anyway.
When even the crackling of the fire stopped, I found myself on my back in the bed of the wagon, staring up at the stars in the sky. Every time I tried not to think of Bonnie, I thought of Bonnie. Of last night and the night before. Of how she’d looked at me from across the fire. Of that first day, in Vegas.
She consumed my every waking moment, and I’d let her.
What would it be like when she left? Would her eyes follow me everywhere I went? Would her words haunt my every move?
Sometime in the middle of the night, I caught myself dozing. It was only when cold, wet drops fell on my face that I blinked awake. I sat up, confused. I looked up at the sky and could no longer see the stars.
Rain. In the desert.
I laughed. The deep, booming sound came from within my chest and spilled out of my mouth. Rain. In the fucking desert. If that wasn’t a sign from some higher power, I didn’t know what was. I wasn’t sure if it was the reminder of home, or of the way Bonnie smelled, or just the irony of it all, but I laughed for a long time.
By the morning, it wasn’t funny anymore.
The downpour had lessened to a light rain. But the damage was done. We set out in the early morning, but didn’t make it very far. The wheels of the wagon kept getting stuck in the mud. The horses were unsettled. They wanted to stretch their legs, but they couldn’t. We were restless. By the afternoon, The Kid and I were covered in mud. Bonnie, too. But not Clara. Instead of helping, she either sat on one of the horses or in the wagon itself. The Kid was so frustrated after a particularly sticky hole that he pushed Clara right into the mud.
As I stifled a smile, I thought I heard Bonnie laugh next to me. Though we hadn’t spoken, it was the closest we’d been to one another. I looked over at her. She turned to me, a satisfied grin on her lips.
“Bonnie, I—”
“Harry! What would your mother say?” Clara said, attempting to climb out of the hole she’d fallen into. My brother stood on the wagon’s edge.
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