Texas Outlaws: Jesse

by Kimberly Raye

  Charlie bent down and picked up the ball of fluff. She gave the animal an affectionate scratch behind the ears. “You really think Sugar Lips, here, is a fitting substitute for a man?”

  She thought of Jesse and the past few nights they’d spent together. She remembered the way he’d touched her and kissed her and laughed when she’d said something really funny. The way he’d looked at her when she’d talked about her past, as if he understood what she felt. As if he felt it, too.

  And then she thought of the nights that lay ahead with Sugar curled up on her lap and the remote control in her hand and the latest reality show blaring on the TV.

  “Which dating site was that?” she heard herself ask.

  * * *

  GRACIE SPENT SUNDAY morning trying not to think about Jesse. Or the all-important fact that he loved her and she loved him and he was still leaving. He hadn’t said a word otherwise. No phone call. No text. Nothing but silence.

  Not that it would have made a difference. She’d made her choice. Her life was here.

  Which was why she’d dragged herself into City Hall to get a jump-start on her week. She had dozens of things to do before the inauguration in one week. Today alone she had to put in an appearance at the local tractor races, recite the Pledge of Allegiance at the weekly softball games and then dish up potato salad for the afternoon picnic at the Lost Gun Presbyterian Church. Even if she wasn’t too keen on facing an entire town full of people at the moment. She would do it anyway—all of it—because it was her duty. Gracie had made a promise, and she always kept her promises. Always.

  But first...

  She focused on the lime-green Hula-Hoop in her hands and started to swirl her hips. A quick twist of the hoop and for the next few seconds, she moved in perfect synchronization with the plastic circle swirling around her waist. But then it fell and she found herself back at square one.

  “Why are you doing this?” Trina asked when she walked into Gracie’s office to find her huffing and puffing and sweating up a storm.

  “Because I promised Sue Ann Miller that I would do the Hula-Hoop for Hope with the rest of her Brownie troop tomorrow afternoon. I won’t buy much hope if I can’t Hula-Hoop for more than ten seconds a pop. People pledge by the minute.”

  “I’m not talking about the Hula-Hoop. I’m talking about this.” She motioned at the office surrounding them. “All of this. It’s Sunday. A day of rest. You should be sitting in your backyard, sipping a mai tai and reading a romance novel or a glamour mag. Or traipsing through the woods with that camera you love so much.”

  “I don’t use my camera anymore.”

  “Sure, you don’t.” Her eyes twinkled. “I saw you last night at the wedding. The entire town saw you.”

  “That’s different.” She remembered all of the pics of Jesse she’d snapped at the training facility after the festivities. Pics that had nothing to do with what was happening about town and everything to do with the fact that she’d wanted to keep him with her. Not that she was admitting as much to Trina. “I was filling in for June.”

  “You were enjoying yourself, which is what you should be doing right now. Instead, you’re working. You’re cooped up when you hate being cooped up. You hate going to city council meetings and old-lady breakfasts and monthly VFW luncheons.”

  “I don’t hate it.”

  “You don’t like it.”

  “I’m good at it.”

  “That’s not the point. Aren’t you tired of faking it?” Trina echoed the one question that had been nagging at her all morning.

  She did hate playing the part of little Miss Perfect. Sure, she was good at it. She’d learned to be good at it, but she didn’t actually like it.

  She never had and she never would.

  “It doesn’t matter what I like or what I don’t like. I’m still the mayor-elect.”

  “And as mayor-elect, you are more than capable of picking a replacement should you decide to retire early.”

  The meaning of Trina’s words sank in and for the first time in a very long time, Gracie felt a flutter of excitement deep inside.

  “I can’t just give it all up.” That was what she said, but where that statement had been true twelve years ago, it was no longer true now. Times had changed. She’d changed. She didn’t have to keep playing the martyr. She knew that.

  At the same time, she’d been doing it for so long that she wasn’t so sure she could stop. Even if she desperately wanted to.

  An image of Jesse pushed into her head and she remembered the possessive look on his face when he’d cut in to dance with her last night. He’d taken her into his arms and held her as if he never meant to let her go.

  He’d also been tipsy thanks to the primo moonshine that had been circulating at last night’s wedding.

  She ignored the ache in her chest and focused on doing something—anything—to keep her mind off Jesse and the fact that he was leaving and she was letting him go. Without putting up a fight. Or telling him how she felt.

  “Where are you going?” Trina asked when Gracie abandoned the Hula-Hoop and reached for her purse.

  “I need to see a man about some moonshine.”

  “You really think Big Earl is cooking again?”

  Gracie thought of the pint of white lightning she’d seen at the wedding the night before and then she thought of the way Casey Jessup had helped her great-grandfather into his chair. “I think it’s his recipe, but I don’t think he’s the one doing the cooking.”

  Gracie’s instincts were jumping and buzzing because she knew Casey had something to do with the case of white lightning at the wedding the night before. It was just a matter of proving it.

  * * *

  “MY GREAT-GRANDPA’S taking a nap. You’ll have to come back later,” Casey said when Gracie knocked on the door a half hour later, after another visit to the butcher.

  “I’m not here to talk to him.” She glanced behind her at the dogs busy devouring the raw meat before turning a pleading look on Casey. “I want to talk to you and I’d like to do it with all of my limbs intact.”

  Casey looked undecided for a split second before she shrugged and stepped aside.

  Gracie retreated into the safety of the double-wide trailer. A faint snore drifted from a nearby bedroom, confirming that Casey, at least, wasn’t lying about Big Earl’s nap.

  “I know you made the moonshine for him,” Gracie said, turning on the young woman. “I also know that you aren’t going to do it again—otherwise I’ll be obliged to report you to the sheriff.”

  Casey looked as if she wanted to deny the accusation, but then she shrugged. “It’s no big deal. It was just one batch.”

  “It’s still illegal.”

  The girl glanced toward the open bedroom door. “But cooking makes him happy, and not much else does these days. He used to love his crosswords, but now he can’t see the puzzle. And he used to love to watch his old Western flicks, but now he can’t even do that because of his glaucoma. And he cain’t cook either and enjoy a glass every night like he used to on account of he can’t see or move around or do anything else like he used to. So I took his recipe and I did it myself so he wouldn’t miss out on the one thing he can do, and that’s drink. I just want him to be happy.”

  Enough to sacrifice her own freedom should she gt caught.

  Gracie knew the feeling.

  “I understand you did it for a good reason, but it’s still highly illegal. You can’t cook out here. He’ll have to switch to beer or whiskey or something they actually sell in a store.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “Then I’ll have the sheriff arrest the both of you. Consider this your warning. No more cooking.”

  Casey nodded and Gracie knew she’d won this battle. But Big Earl was well over ninety years old and ha
d acquired a taste for moonshine a long, long time ago. Even more, Casey was too devoted to deny the old man much of anything. And so Gracie wasn’t so sure she was going to win this war.

  Still, she intended to try.

  “No cooking,” she said again, and then she held her breath, darted out the door and raced for her car.

  * * *

  A HALF HOUR later Trina was on her fourth drink while Gracie worked on her second. They sat at a small table at a local sports bar that was all but deserted thanks to the softball game going on down at the ball field. Still, a few die-hard football fans sat in the far corner, as well as the entire ladies’ sewing circle who were drinking peach schnapps and watching a rerun of Bridezillas on one of the monstrous TV screens.

  Gracie’s gaze swiveled away from a bitchy bride named Soleil just in time to see a pair of worn jeans moving toward her. Her gaze slid higher, over trim thighs and a lean waist, to a faded denim shirt covering a broad chest... Jesse. A straw Resistol sat atop his dark head, slanted at just the angle she remembered and making him look every bit the cowboy who’d stolen her heart.

  “Shouldn’t you be on the interstate by now?” she asked as he stopped next to her table.

  “I forgot something.” Jesse’s gaze caught and held hers and his words echoed in her head.

  “What?”

  “You.”

  Joy erupted inside her, stirring a wave of panic that made her heart pound faster.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I want you to come with me.” His gaze darkened. “Be with me. You don’t belong here, Gracie. You and I both know that.”

  “You don’t know anything. Sorry, Trina,” she told her assistant as she pushed to her feet. “I need to get out of here.” Before Jesse could reach for her, she started past him toward the nearest exit. Fear pushed her faster when she heard Jesse’s voice behind her.

  “Gracie, wait!”

  But she couldn’t. Not because he wanted her to go but because she wanted it. She wanted to chuck it all, throw herself into his arms, walk away and never look back. The knowledge sent a rush of anxiety through her and she picked up her steps. She slammed her palms against the exit door and stumbled out into the parking lot. Gravel crunched as her legs ate up the distance to the car.

  “Gracie!” The name rang out a second before he caught her arm in a firm jerk that brought her whirling around to face him. “Gracie, I—”

  “Don’t say it!” She shook her head, blinking back the tears that suddenly threatened to overwhelm her. “Please don’t say it again.”

  “I love you.”

  The tears spilled over and she shook her head, fighting the truth of his words and the emotion in her heart. “Let me go. I—I need to get back to the office. I’ve got work to do.”

  “Gracie?” Strong, warm hands cradled her face, his thumbs smoothing her tears. “What is it, baby? Didn’t you hear me? You know I love—”

  “Don’t!” Pleasure rushed through her, so fierce it stirred the fear and the panic and made her fight harder. She pushed at his hands. “Don’t say those things to me. Don’t make this situation any harder. You have to leave and I have to let you.”

  “If saying I love you makes it harder for you to let me go, then I love you, I love you, I will always love you.” His eyes took on a determined light. “That’s why I want you to come with me. I thought you’d be happy. I thought you wanted out of this town.”

  “You thought wrong.”

  “Did I?” His fierce violet gaze held hers, coaxing and tempting, and she came so close to throwing herself into his arms—to hell with Lost Gun.

  Instead, she shook her head, clinging to her anger and her fear and the pain of hearing her sister cry herself to sleep every night after their brother passed away. Charlie had been so uncertain for so long, but Gracie had changed all of that. She’d changed.

  While she wasn’t the goody-goody she pretended to be and she was far from content, she still liked it here. She liked the people and the town and her house.

  Her home.

  “I’m not going with you. I made a commitment to the people of this town. I have a responsibility. I can’t drop everything just because you say you love me.”

  “How about because you love me?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t. I can’t.”

  No matter how much she wanted to.

  She fought against the emotion that gripped her heart and made her want to throw all pride aside, wrap her arms around him and confess the feelings welling inside of her.

  “It doesn’t matter how we feel. It doesn’t change the fact that you have to go and I have to stay. I have to.” She yanked free and started for her car, steps echoing in her head like a death knell. Inside, she gunned the engine and took a deep, shaking breath.

  Heaven help her, she’d done it. She’d done the right thing by giving Jesse the freedom he so desperately needed.

  So why did it suddenly feel as if Gracie had turned her back on the one thing that mattered most?

  Wiping frantically at a flood of hot tears, she chanced a glance in her mirror to see Jesse standing where she’d left him, staring after her, fists clenched, his body taut, as if it took all his strength not to go after her.

  It was an image that haunted her all through the night and the rest of the week as Gracie wrote her acceptance speech and picked out a dress for the inauguration and prepared for the rest of her life.

  Without Jesse Chisholm.

  * * *

  “LET HER LOOSE!” Jesse yelled, stuffing his hand beneath the rope and holding on for all he was worth. The two cowboys monitoring the chute threw open the doors. The bull reared and darted forward, nearly throwing Jesse, who held tight, riding the fledgling for the very first time.

  He held on, his grip determined as the bull kicked and stomped and snorted against the feel of the weight on his back. Seconds ticked by as he bucked and twisted and made Jesse the proud papa of a brand-new bucking bull.

  Cheers went up a few minutes later as he climbed off after a brief but exhilarating ride.

  “You did good, boy,” he murmured, wishing Pete could have been there. But he was off on his honeymoon with Wendy, making memories and babies.

  A pang of envy shot through Jesse. While he’d achieved so much in his life, he was just getting started. He had years left on the circuit. Too long to be thinking about a future beyond.

  A home. Kids. Gracie.

  It was three days since he’d last seen her. Instead of hauling ass to Austin on Sunday, he’d gone back to the Gunner ranch to pick up some boxes and ended up staying the night. To think on things and try to get his head on straight. Then Monday had rolled around and his lawyer had called with two more buyers and Jesse had stayed to meet with the man and go over things later that day. And then Tuesday had rolled around and he’d had papers to sign. And Wednesday he’d had to accept delivery of the fledgling bull since Eli had made an appointment to get new glasses.

  But tomorrow... Tomorrow was the day.

  Jesse helped the hands get Ranger back into his chute. He’d just flipped the latch when he caught sight of a familiar car pulling into the parking lot.

  He pulled off his gloves, exited the corral and started toward her. Gracie climbed out of the car and met him near the front entrance.

  “You’re here,” he said, his heart pitching and shaking faster than a bull busting out of the chute.

  “I heard you got delayed with the offers on your place and so I thought I’d stop by before you finally do hit the road.” She handed him a box. “I made it for you. Something to remember me by.”

  As if he could forget her.

  She’d lived and breathed in his memories for so long and now she’d taken up permanent residence in his heart, and there w
asn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

  There was, a nagging voice whispered. He could hitch her over his shoulder, load her into his pickup truck and haul ass for Austin. And when he got there, he could love her until she changed her mind and stayed. The heat burned so fierce between them it would be hot enough to change her mind. For a little while, anyway.

  But then she would leave. He knew it. She belonged here and he didn’t, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.

  His fingers itched and he touched her hand. Her gaze met his and he read the fear in her eyes, the uncertainty. As much as she wanted him to stay, she wanted to go. But she was afraid. Afraid to follow, to abandon the town that had embraced her when she’d needed them.

  The same town that had shunned him.

  He pulled his hand away even though every fiber of his being wanted to say to hell with Austin, to crush her in his arms and never let go.

  He concentrated on opening the box.

  A navy blue photo album lay inside, nestled in tissue paper. Jesse pulled the album free and turned to the first page to see several landscape shots of Lost Gun. The surrounding trees, the lush pasture, the historic buildings lining Main Street. He flipped through several more pages, saw more pictures of the town, including James Lee and the kids at the car wash and even one of each of his brothers. Billy two-stepped his way around the dance floor down at the local honky-tonk and Cole held tight to an ornery bronc.

  “It’s a memory book. I know you don’t have good memories of your childhood, but these are new memories. Good ones to replace the old ones.”

  Jesse simply stared and flipped until he reached the last page, which held a full glossy of himself astride one of his training bulls. He swallowed the baseball-size lump in his throat. With stiff fingers he managed to close the book. “It’s missing something.”

  She looked genuinely puzzled. “What?”

  His gaze captured hers. “You.”

  “I don’t think this is the right time—”

  “Do you love me? Because if you do, I need to hear it.”