Jenna splayed her hands over his back, pressing her fingers into his skin, grounding herself before she dissolved into pure sensation and electric heat. "You smell too good to have been doing chores all morning."
"You're a liar." He grinned, working his way to her neck.
"It's like hickory smoke and old leather."
He nipped at her skin. "Polk and I were working with the saddles."
Jenna's eyes rolled back as he worked his way lower, jumping over her shirt still bunched under her arms. She pulled on the sleeves and tore it off her head. "Is Polk going to wonder where you are?"
Country laughed, and the sound rumbled through her. "Polk knows exactly where I am. He told me to take the afternoon off."
Jenna tugged at his shirt until he bowed his head, letting her slide it off and pull it from his arms. "Polk's my favourite." They were the last words she was capable of uttering. Somehow, after staying up half the night, moving between the bed and the shower and then back again, she still wasn’t even close to sick of this.
When she was a girl, Jenna had a favourite blanket. She’d slept with it every night until when Jenna turned seven, they took a family trip to the States. Went to a waterpark and stayed at the Glacier Lodge with breakfast that had huckleberry syrup instead of just strawberry.
Jenna had been on cloud nine until they’d crossed back over the border and stopped for the night. She’d searched her bag, Travis’s bag. Every compartment in her minivan, but her blanket was nowhere to be found.
She’d cried herself to sleep that night and half the nights after. A month later, the tears had dried up, but her world was still a little less bright. Then one day a box showed up on their doorstep with “Glacier Lodge” in the address.
As she held Country in her arms, it was as if she’d bottled that moment and brought it with her. Like she’d popped the cork and let the nostalgia and gratitude and sheer relief wash over her here in this farmhouse.
Country was new and old. Achingly familiar and a miraculous surprise. Every receptor in her brain tuned in to his channel. To the soul-filling relief of his hands grasping her hips. The pleasure of his breath whispering fast and hot over her skin. The gratitude of knowing that he was here, after all this time. That he wasn’t going anywhere because he’d chosen her again and again.
And she’d finally learned how to let him.
_____
When Jenna walked into GCBN Tuesday morning, it felt like an alternate universe. Nothing looked the same. Nothing felt the same. It was like she was moving through a crisp, colourful reality that layered like a film over her old dingy life.
The intern with the freckles asked after the reports, and Jenna waved her off. She hadn't checked her email in over twenty-four hours, and it felt both like she'd broken free of the Matrix and like she was going to get thrown in broadcasting jail for being so irresponsible. She'd get the work done. Not because she wanted to prove herself to John or Archer, but because she still took pride in her performance, and she loved HEC. Even if the team that produced it were snakes.
Jenna sat at her desk and dove in, not even hesitating to make a cup of coffee. After being with Country, she felt like she'd spent the night in a high-voltage charging station. All her batteries were powered up.
She slogged through her emails, swiped through footage and headlines, then just before lunch, risked scrolling through the hundreds of comments on the HEC reels Rylen had posted over the weekend. She and Country had been a huge hit. That felt like the most unbelievable fact of the past three days. Canadian die-hard hockey fans had liked her commentary. Even if it was only because she'd played off Country's comments, they hadn't hated her. They hadn't blasted her for not being Kessler.
Jenna was so engrossed in expanding comment chains, she didn't notice John walking through her office door.
"McAllister," he barked, and she startled, whipping around and almost bringing her mouse with her.
"John." She swallowed the rage that flashed through her at seeing his face, plastered with a smile, in front of her.
"You haven't responded to the emails I sent."
Jenna glanced back at her screen. His were, in fact, the only emails she hadn't at least opened yet. "I'm sorry, haven't gotten that far."
"I sent them Sunday morning."
"I took Sunday off."
He frowned. "And what about Monday?"
"Also my day off."
He chuckled. "We'll see how long that lasts. New Year's resolution? Find more balance, yada yada?"
She clenched her jaw. "I think this one might actually stick."
Before John could say anything else, Country appeared behind him, and Jenna didn't even try to hide what seeing him did to her. He wore a tan waffle knit shirt under his thick work coat and jeans with slip-on Converse. Jenna's grin pulled so wide, she worried her face might stay that way.
