I swallow and nod. “Yes, that answers my question.”
Jessie leads us into the next aisle, and when I move for a jar of salsa, she stops me. "I do not allow that salsa in my home."
I raise an eyebrow and point at the different brand beside it. "Nope," she says, with a shake of her head. "This way." She leads me to the produce section, choosing cilantro, a white onion and a head of garlic. Next she grabs canned diced tomatoes and dried red pepper flakes, then turns to me.
"Salsa is the one and only thing I can make, but I make it damn well."
I chuckle. "Far be it for me to change that."
I gather items for dinner, now that I know Jessie doesn't cook, and we check out. The cashier gives us a look as long as the sheriff's wife, but she doesn't say anything. Jessie smiles at her and makes small talk.
I watch her relaxed grin, the ease with which her body moves, how comfortable she feels in her skin. How can someone as young as her be so composed?
I ask her that exact question when we're back in my car.
She shifts, so she's facing me, one leg bent at the knee and propped on the seat. "I like to think I've been living two lives. One as an only child, the other as the baby of four siblings. My brothers are so much older than me that technically I could be considered an only child. So it's like I got the benefits of both birth orders." She bites her lower lip. "And maybe the drawbacks."
Before I can respond, she follows up her answer with a question. "Do you have any siblings?"
My knuckles tap the steering wheel. The closeness of the Hayden siblings makes me miss something I never had.
I shake my head. "I'd always wished for a brother, but no. Only child."
Jessie playfully smacks my shoulder. "I can halfway relate to you."
"And halfway not at all."
"Is the glass half full or half empty?"
"Half empty. Always. Why set yourself up to be disappointed?"
Jessie grins. "I agree. Screw that positive attitude shit."
I smile, and it occurs to me I smile a lot when I'm around her. I like it. I think. I'm not sure. Am I allowed to like it? It's confusing.
I showed up in this town a broken man, and now Jessie, just by virtue of being herself, is picking up the pieces and putting me back together.
"Are you going to start driving?" She sounds impatient. "There are groceries in your car, and it's still a twenty-minute drive back to the ranch."
The ranch.
"Right," I say, reversing from the spot. "Let's get going to the ranch."
I like the way it sounds. Like standing out in the clean morning air, sipping coffee and smelling pine.
Most of all, I like Jessie.
Whole chicken,washed and patted dry. Butter tucked under the skin. Whole lemons cut in half and nestled in the cavity.
"Can you please grab the roasting pan?" I ask Jessie, who has not stopped reminding me how hungry she is. Even after she prepared her salsa, which admittedly is better than any store-bought salsa I’ve ever had, she’s still hopping around me like a starving baby bird. I'm learning she has a low threshold for hunger.
She slides the roasting pan over to me. I lift the chicken, wrapping the cooking twine around the bird. I use a kitchen knife to cut it, then tie it off.
Jessie leans an elbow on the counter, watching me.
"What?" I ask, as I pick up the chicken and transfer it to the pan.
"I didn't have you pegged as the cooking type."
