18
Sawyer
I'm standingin the doorway, staring into the bedroom, trying not to let my emotions show on my face. There's no way I can sleep there. My entire body is bigger than the bed.
"That's a twin."
Jessie appraises me, laughter in her eyes. She’s standing in the middle of the room, and points a finger at the wall. ”Do you prefer the bunk bed in Charlie's old room?"
My gaze narrows at her. I've been a grown man for a long time, but here I am choosing between a teenage girl's former twin bed, and a young boy’s old bunk.
"What size is your bed?" I ask.
"King."
I make acome the fuck onface, and she smiles. "Four of you could fit in a king, Jessie."
"What are you saying?"
We stare at each other. A showdown. She holds my gaze, steady as can be. "You haven't even kissed me yet. We are not sleeping in the same bed."
You haven't even kissed me…yet. We both know it’s coming. How could it not? Given the way my body responds to merely being in the same room as her, it seems a foregone conclusion. And still, there is such distance between knowing it will happen, and putting those thoughts to action.
“I wasn’t suggesting I sleep in your bed.” I look past her, to the bed better suited for its previous owner. “Can I have new sheets?”
Jessie rolls her eyes and smirks. "Well, yeah. There are fresh linens in the closet."
I pick up the bag at my feet and give it a toss. It sails through the air and lands on the bed. I do the same with the next two. "Home sweet home."
"Good," Jessie says, walking to me. She passes through the doorway, her forearm brushing mine. She lifts up onto tiptoe and presses a peck to my cheek. Her lips are soft, her kiss gentle and fleeting. She pauses near my cheek, her lips hovering, giving me a chance to turn my face. Just an inch or two and my lips could crash to hers. I could hold her in my arms, run my hands through her hair, taste her.
These inches, they feel like miles.
Jessie settles back down on flat feet. "Thank you for dinner. See you in the morning."
In the morning,I discover Jessie has squat for groceries. We make our way into town.
Our appearance together at the grocery store does not go unnoticed. A woman I don't recognize, but Jessie greets, gives us a lengthy once-over.
"Sheriff Monroe's wife," Jessie whispers when we're far enough away. "Hand to God, she is the biggest busybody in this town. Give it three days, and everyone will know you're staying with me."
“How will she know if nobody tells her?”
“She’s a better detective than her husband ever was. A bloodhound, that one.”
I glance over at the sheriff's wife. The old woman tears her gaze away from us, and I laugh. “Had to happen at some point, I suppose." Maybe it sounds cavalier, but I actually like the idea of people knowing about me and Jessie. I’m not sure what there is to know, seeing as how last night she reminded me how little kissing we’ve done so far, which is to saynone. Still, if people assume we’re together, I’d consider it a fortunate misconception. If she has to be associated with someone, I want that person to be me.
"Sure did," Jessie replies, adding tortilla chips to the basket.
“You’re not worried this gossip will make it harder for you to get a date in this town?” I look away after I ask the question. I’m fishing. For what, I don’t exactly know.
“Sawyer.” The way Jessie says my name, all soft and sweet like that, has my breath slamming up my throat. I meet her gaze.
“I’m not going to French restaurants or letting anybody else stay in my home. Does that answer your question?”
She stares back at me. Her baby blue eyes are an endless sea, one I want to swim in. What would it be like to let myself go with her? To have her? To let her have me?
Fuck, I like this woman. She doesn’t play games. And she doesn’t deserve any from me. I need to tell her about Brea. She needs to know the reason for my hesitance.
