by Codi Gary
She tugged on his hand, afraid of what he was going to say next. She wasn’t sure if her fears were completely gone about their future together, and she didn’t want him confessing his love or something else just as crazy. Not tonight. Life-and-death situations made feelings seem more intense, and then they faded out when the danger passed.
“I don’t want to talk. Not tonight.”
She tugged his hand until he lay down next to her. Cuddling against his side, she rested her good cheek on his chest. “I just want you to hold me and tell me it’s going to be okay.”
His lips brushed the top of her head as his arms went around her. “It’s going to be okay.”
Chapter Eighteen
A week had gone by since the night of the fire, and Jessie hadn’t left Red’s trailer. She couldn’t bear to go to the bar and inspect the damage and was afraid to face the people in town. She just wanted to stay in the safety of Red’s arms.
She was cutting fruit up for a salad when Red let out a whoop from in front of his computer.
“What’s up?” she called.
“My editor just sent me my edits, and they aren’t as bad as I imagined.”
His arms went around her from behind, his hands resting on her stomach, and she closed her eyes. Since the fire, she’d woken up in a pool of sweat, and the only thing that had been able to calm her was having him beside her. She loved and hated it. She’d never had to rely on anyone else to make her feel secure before. The good thing about the fire was that whatever space Red had been giving her was over. He was constantly kissing and touching her, pulling her back to the bedroom, just like before the video, and Jessie was just starting to feel secure with him again. In them as a couple. And, surprisingly, herself.
“Breakfast smells good,” he whispered against the skin of her neck, nipping lightly. “But you taste better.”
“Um, no. We’re out of orange juice and I want you to go to the store while I finish the quiche.”
“Oh, so you’re making a quiche, hmm?” He pushed down the neck of the sweater she wore, and she turned on him, waving the spatula.
“Will you get out of here and get me the juice? You are such a horn dog.”
Laughing, he backed away from her with his hands up. “I’m going!”
“No pulp!” she yelled after him, but he’d already closed the door. She couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. He was really such a sweet goofball.
She added the ingredients to the piecrust and put it in the oven to bake. As she passed Orange stretched across the back of the couch, she ran her hand over his soft fur. He tolerated her attentions for several minutes before he tried to take a bite out of her hand.
“Ouch! I don’t care what your dad says, you are an asshole,” she said, sticking the side of her hand in her mouth. He’d nicked her before she’d gotten away, and she went to the bathroom to clean the wound.
When she came back into the living room, she sat down at Red’s laptop to watch the newest 2 Broke Girls and saw he had left it open on his book.
Curious, she started reading and smiled as she got an introduction to the hero.
He’s really good.
When the hero and heroine met, though, she narrowed her eyes.
Caleb glared at the obnoxious woman. Her honey-blonde hair and green eyes were a gorgeous combination, but her personality was like curdled milk. It left a bad taste in his mouth.
The longer she read, the angrier she became. The similarities between their first meeting, the way their friendship had progressed. Even their first kiss—it was all too close. He’d used them as the basis of his book, after he’d said he didn’t base his books on real live people.
He used you, just like Will did.
When the oven beeped, she pulled out the quiche. Glaring down at the pie, she ignored the sheen of tears that blurred her vision.
You really just don’t have good luck with men, do you?
With a scream of rage, she threw the hot quiche against the door.
* * *
Red pulled into the drive and got out of the Charger with a gallon of orange juice and a bouquet of roses. The pickings had been slim, but he was hoping she would still love the orange blossoms.
He opened the door and nearly slipped on what looked like the remains of a quiche. Puzzled, he called, “Jessie, what happ—shit!”
He ducked just in time to avoid the flying coffee cup aimed at his head.
“I can’t believe I trusted you, you bastard!”
Red tried to swerve around another dish, and it caught his shoulder. “Jessie, stop it! What’s going on?”
“What’s going on? How about your new book, Albert? How about the fact that you used me as a character?”
“My character?” Her words sank in, and he cursed. “You read my manuscript?”
“I was curious. I loved your other book and couldn’t wait to see what this one was about. Boy, was I surprised!”
Red set the roses and orange juice down, and took another step toward her. He saw the tears on her cheeks and held his hands out as he said, “Jessie, it’s not you. It’s a character—”
“Liar!” Another missile. “You are a no good, fucking liar! You used me! After what I told you, after what happened before, you still used me.”
“No, honey, it’s not—”
“Don’t you fucking call me that!”
He needed to stop this before she destroyed all his dishes. He rushed her, wrapping his arms around hers to keep her still. “Stop it.”
She was kicking and screaming every vile obscenity he’d ever heard and then some at him. When her heel caught him in the shin, he winced but held on until her struggles subsided.
“Let me go!”
“Jessie, I just need you to listen—”
“Let me go, Red.”
He released her reluctantly but tried to take her hand. “Jessie, I swear, it’s not you. I use my experiences in my writing, but the woman in that book is a character I made up.”
“She’s blonde, with green eyes. She has a personality to curdle milk—”
“See, that’s not you—”
“She’s running from her mobster ex-boyfriend because she witnessed a murder—”
“See, not even the same issues.”
“What about the bakery scene?” she whispered.
Shit. In the book, the hero and heroine had made love on a prep table in the back of the bakery.
“It’s not you,” he repeated.
A horn honked outside, and she pushed away from him. “That’s my ride.”
“Wait, where are you going?” He tried to hold on to her, but she tore away from him.
“I’m going home. I’m getting the hell out of this town and away from you.”
He grabbed her arm gently and pleaded, “Don’t. Please.”
“Come on, you had your fun, you wrote your book. What do I need to stay for?” She sneered at him, and it was so convincing, he almost believed she didn’t care.
He needed her to know, if only to stop her from ruining what they had. “Because I love you.”
She made a noise he thought might have been a sob, before she scoffed. “Yeah, right. You need entertaining and perhaps inspiration for your next book.”
“Dammit, no. Don’t try to act like you don’t care! Don’t act like you don’t feel the same way I do!”
Her icy stare stopped him cold. “Whatever I may have felt for you died the minute you used me to further your career.”
With those last words, she was out the door and gone from his life.
And instead of chasing after her, he sat down on the couch and stared at the orange roses, which had looked so pretty in the store but seemed to wilt before his eyes.
He’d told her he loved her, and it hadn’t mattered.
* * *
“I kind of understand where she’s was coming from,” Rand said, giving him an apologetic look.
He returned it with a glare. “You c
an be replaced.”
“No, she can’t,” Jake said, kissing her head as he sat next to her on the couch.
“You too? You’re supposed to be my friends. You know, take my side,” he grumbled.
“We are on your side, but given what Jessie has been through, I understand why the book flipped her out.”
Red nursed his beer and wondered why he thought coming over here would be a good idea.
Because you didn’t want to be alone?
“Seriously, man, call her again and try to apologize. Offer to pull the book.”
“I have been calling for three days, and nothing,” he said, slumping back against the couch. “Maybe it’s for the best. She broke half my dishes. She was always making fun of me—”
“If that’s the case, then why do you care?” Rand asked.
Because…because she’d made him laugh. She’d made him really think about the future.
And without her you feel like part of your heart is gone?
Dammit, when did he become a sappy cheese ball? He should forget her. She had a ton of baggage, and the last thing he needed was her crazy rubbing off on him.
Only, with the way he was feeling, he wanted crazy. He wanted her calling him Albert and giving him that teasing smile. Hell, he’d settle for just hearing her voice again.
Chapter Nineteen
Jessie was sitting on the back porch of her childhood home, staring out across the rolling hills to the mountains beyond. It was a beautiful place to live, with the pine trees and the small-town life. Only, since she’d been home, she hadn’t been able to appreciate any of that. All she’d done was cry and compare it to the overgrown trail behind the bar, the fields of cows, and the men, well…
None of them were big, redheaded, heartbreaking assholes.
“Jessie, honey?”
Jessie brushed at her cheek, wishing her stupid tears would stop, and looked over her shoulder at her dad. “Hey.”
Her dad was medium height with a stocky frame and a shaved head. He’d worked as a district manager for a large grocery chain for years and when he retired, he’d grown out a handlebar mustache full enough to make Yosemite Sam proud. She would have teased him about the facial hair if she wasn’t so miserable.
He sat on the lawn chair next to her and frowned. “Whoever he is, I’m going to kill him.”
That brought out a smile, reminding her of Red. If he hadn’t betrayed her so badly, her dad and he may have gotten along. “I never said there was a guy.”
“You came home moping, and you’ve actually been pleasant to Silvie.”
Disgruntled, Jessie grumbled, “I like Silvie.”
“I’m glad to finally hear it. Now, why don’t you tell me about this man I need to kill?”
Jessie didn’t want to talk about Red with her dad. She had told him everything about Will, down to the hidden cameras, and had even talked to him the day after Will had attacked her in Loco, but for some reason, she didn’t want her father to think less of Red.
Because you still care about him, doofus.
She didn’t want to, though. She had been ignoring his texts and phone calls for days, and each time she heard his deep drawl on her voice mail, she wanted to give in.
“He didn’t do anything, Dad. It just didn’t work out.”
Her dad reached across and took her hand. “Then it’s his loss, huh?”
She nodded, even though she didn’t believe it.
Her dad patted her hand and said, “Dinner is almost ready.”
As he left her alone, her phone chirped. She picked it up and smiled. It was a text from Rand.
Hey, how are you?
Leaning back in the chair, she tapped out: Okay, just sitting on the porch. How are you?
Her phone chirped again, and Jessie’s heart sank. He really misses you. I think you should come home.
She set the phone on her chest and wished people would stop giving her their opinions. As Rand’s text sank in, she realized that this place, with her father and Silvie, wasn’t home. Home was in the arms of a big, drawling Texas man, and she bit her lip as her sobs started coming in full force.
If only her damn heart could forget about the way he smiled at her with his blue eyes dancing, but it seemed like every time she closed her eyes, he was there.
He didn’t deserve her heart or her tears, but for some reason, he still had both.
* * *
Red stared at the email and cursed.
His editor wanted his dedication, and he had no idea what to say. He’d been staring at the screen for over two hours and nothing.
A knock on his trailer door brought instant relief, until he opened it and saw Rand.
“What?”
“I know you’re pissed because you think we ganged up on you, but you need to suck it up, because I have a peace offering,” she said, holding out a Post-it.
He looked down at the address written on it and sucked in his breath. “How did you get her address?”
“Margie. Apparently, she left some things at the hotel and asked Margie to ship them.”
He stared at the address and said, “She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“So change her mind. You’re good at that.”
“Considering my past ventures into romance I don’t see it.”
Rand reached out and squeezed his hand. “You once gave me a pep talk, so let me return the favor.”
“Okay…”
“If you want her, you need to suck it up and show her. Do not give up until there is no hope left.”
“Wow, Rand, that almost sounded romantic.”
“I know. I think I felt some bile rise up my throat on that one.”
Laughing, he stepped out and pulled her into a hug. “Thanks.”
“So, I’m still your favorite?” Rand teased, hugging him hard.
He thought about the feelings he’d held on to for Rand and was glad to have had his proposal turned down. If she’d accepted and they both had settled, he would have never known what real, lasts-forever, and completely-wrecks-you love was like.
The love he’d held on to for Rand paled in comparison to his feelings for Jessie. But because of Rand, he knew it was real.
Squeezing her hard, he said, “You’ll always be my favorite, Rand.”
* * *
“Jessie, package for you.”
Jessie got up from the table, leaving the want ads she’d been perusing, and took the box from her dad.
“It’s just the rest of my stuff from Loco,” she said, grabbing a knife to cut the tape.
“What all did you leave?” her dad asked distractedly as he thumbed through the mail.
“Just a sweater and…” Her voice trailed off as she opened the box and stared down at a stack of printed pages clipped together. A bright pink sticky note on the front read: “Please read it. Red.”
“Who is Red?” her father asked, peering over her shoulder.
Closing the lid, she said, “Just a friend.”
“Hmmm…what is it?”
“A book. A romance novel,” she said softly.
“Huh, since when do you read smut?”
Rolling her eyes, she said, “I don’t.”
Her father looked confused, and before he could ask any more questions, she said, “I’m going to go to my room, okay?”
She didn’t wait for his answer but took the box to her room and sat on the bed. With a deep breath, she pulled the book out and peeled off the note.
This book is dedicated to Jessie. Wherever you are, you have my heart.
She sniffled and turned the page, wishing he didn’t have the ability to turn her into a sobbing mess. She started reading the book again, noting where he had changed things. Before she knew it, she was halfway done and engrossed. When her father called her into dinner, she said she wasn’t hungry. On the last page, the hero carried the heroine into the house he’d built her and kissed her as the door closed.
She turned the page and read his l
ast message to her.
I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please, come home.
She didn’t realize how loud she was crying until her dad knocked on the door and hollered, “Jessie Jane, what is going on in there?”
She jumped up from the bed and ran to the door, laughing through her tears. “I need to go home.”
“What are you talking about? This is your home,” her father said roughly.
She shook her head. “No, Dad. I love you, but I need to get back to Texas. I have friends and a life and…and a man who loves me.”
Her dad stood there for a moment before folding his arms over his chest. “You’ve been here for over two weeks, crying over this man.”
“It was all a misunderstanding,” she said.
Her father looked like he didn’t believe her. “Fine, but I’m coming with you.”
Her stomach dropped out, and she gulped. “Really, Dad—”
“This isn’t a discussion. I want to meet this man and have a few words with him. Then we’ll see if you’ll be staying in Texas or not.”
Jessie wasn’t worried about her dad not liking Red, not anymore. But even if he didn’t, nothing was going to keep her away from Red, not even her father’s stubborn, protective nature.
Grinning widely, Jessie ran to pack her things. Maybe if she hurried, she could get her dad out on the next evening flight to Texas.
Chapter Twenty
Red stood off to the side, admiring the foundation of his soon-to-be house, and smiled. He’d gotten a call from Elizabeth that his copy edits would be back to him within a month and that the book should release on time. He’d even started writing something new. Life was finally taking a turn for the better.
Well, except for one thing.
He hadn’t heard a word from Jessie since he’d mailed her his book a week ago. He’d gotten a tracking number, so he knew it arrived and her dad had signed for it. He also knew she’d talked to Rand a few times, but as for him, nothing.
Maybe it was for the best. He’d told her how he felt, laid his heart out for her, and she still compared him to Will. He was nothing like her dirtbag ex, and if she couldn’t see that, it was her loss.
