It hits me that this is all I want in life, quiet evenings with Lauren. Just like Lauren now knows how incrediblethe taste of peanut butter and Oreos are, I now know what it’s like to have Lauren by my side, celebrating holidays, comforting me when times get rough, and basking in the perfection of a cozy night in. Now that I’ve had a taste of what our life could be like, I can’t forget the sensation. I’m going to fight like hell to be the man who is good enough for Lauren because I know without a shadow of a doubt that she’s everything I need and more.
Chapter Fifteen
Lauren
As “Sold(The Grundy County Auction Incident)” plays for the third time on our five-hour drive, I groan. “Do we have to listen to John Michael Montgomery the whole way?”
“What do you have against John Michael Montgomery?” Jax frowns from the driver’s seat.
“Nothing. It’s just that I don’t feel the need to listen to him for hours on end, and I definitely don’t need to listen to the same songthreetimes.”
“But we already established I get to be the?—”
“I know. I know. It’s your truck, you’re driving, and if I want us to get there in one piece then you should get a say in what we’re playing.” I roll my eyes. “That’s a really stupid rule by the way. I’m driving myself next time.”
“Here, I’ll skip the song if it bothers you that much.” He presses a button on the dash, and “I Can Love You Like That” drifts from the stereo.
He turns to me with a goofy grin on his face. “This is agood one. Let’s listen and then we can play whatever you want.”
When we pull up to a red light, the song escalates, and Jax meets my gaze, singing along as John Michael Montgomery croons about how he can love his woman exactly like they did in all the romantic movies and fairytales she grew up loving.
I shake my head at him, laughing while he belts out the chorus, but my stomach is doing a thousand cartwheels right now. It feels like Jax is singing this song directly to me, and it makes me feel giddy but sweaty.
The song winds down, and I quickly try to brush the feeling away. “Can I play Christmas music now?”
Jax throws his head back. “Do we have to?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I agreed to road trip with the Grinch.”
“I’m not the Grinch.”
“Then why can’t we listen to Christmas music?”
“Because I don’t feel like it.”
“Oh, I see. You don’t feel like it because you’re a Grinch.” I cross my arms, trying to hide the smile that’s creeping onto my face.
“Why are you so insistent on playing Christmas music?”
“Because I love Christmas. Thanksgiving is over. I waited the appropriate amount of time to listen to it around other people.”
He turns to me as we pull up to yet another red light. “What do you mean around other people? Do you listen to Christmas music before Thanksgiving?”
“Only when I watch Christmas movies.”
“I’m guessing that means you watch Christmas movies before Thanksgiving?”
“Of course.” I shrug, shifting in my seat. “I watch them all year around. There’s no sense in restricting the times I get to watch a good movie.”
“A little heads-up next time would be nice. I wouldn’t have agreed to come if I knew I was going on a road trip with acrazyperson.”
“I’m not crazy.” We pull into the parking lot, and I swivel toward him in disbelief. “Did you stall on purpose?”
“I swear I didn’t.” He parks. “Go ahead and queue up a song. We can sit here and listen to it before we go inside if it makes you happy.”
“It does.”
As the cheery song slips through the speakers, I press myself up against the window to watch the swarm of trucks and cowboys. These are my kind of people. As much as I love Roots, not everyone there is a rancher. Not everyone gets the hard work that goes into the day to day. Only about one percent of the population, including both farmers and ranchers, is responsible for providing food for the rest of the United States. That percentage has drastically decreased over the last couple of generations, and the business gets a little lonely. It’s exciting to finally be amongst people who share common values, goals, and life experiences.
