I frown at her while I wash my hands. "Why not?"
"You're too pretty."
I make a face and wipe my hands on a kitchen towel. "Too pretty?"
She looks me up and down. "Yeah, you know… kind of… precious."
I slide the pan into the oven and close it, turning back to her. My eyebrows lift. "Pretty and precious? Is that how you see me?" If so, this isn't going so well for me.
Her lips purse, slowly releasing. "You're very put together. You just seem like someone who has dinner cooked for him. Or ordered. Not someone who stands in front of a hot stove."
I nod slowly. "I don't think you're complimenting me."
She chuckles. "I'm not, I guess. But I'm not insulting you either, at least I don't mean it that way."
"I'm not insulted."
"Good."
“I would like for you to see me differently, though.” I exhale silently, trying to release some of the nervousness I feel on the inside.
Her head tips, her hair cascading through the air like a waterfall. “How would you like for me to see you?” Her voice is deeper, throatier.
My hands tuck into my pockets. “As a man.”
She swallows audibly. “I’m very well aware you’re a man, Sawyer.” Her lips peel apart, a small gap appearing between them, and she drags in a breath.
Fuck.
She’s waiting for me to make the first move. Bold, brave, ebullient Jessie wants me to come to her. And I want to. I really, really do. But just like last night, the longer I wait, the more the inches grow into miles.
Now it’s been quiet for too long, and there’s no coming back from it. I don't know what to say. "Wine," I blurt out, remembering the bottle we put in the freezer when we got back. I take it out and pour two glasses. The outside of the glasses immediately clouds with the frosty temperature. She takes one off the counter. She looks… annoyed.Join the club. I’m irritated with myself too.
"Cheers," I say, holding up my glass.
"To?"
I pause, glass aloft, thinking. "To Hotel Jessie."
She laughs and drinks.
"It's going to be an hour or so before the chicken is ready, and I need to get started on the rice. Do you"—I glance outside to where we stood a few days ago when Beau and Wes walked up—"want to relax outside? It's nice right now."
"Good idea." Jessie grabs her phone and walks out back. She settles into a chair and draws her legs into herself. She opens her phone, and I can't see clearly from here but it looks like she's reading something.
I'm toasting the dry rice when my dad calls.
"Hi, Dad," I say, holding the phone between my lifted shoulder and my bent head. I add the rice to the boiling water, then turn it down to a simmer and cover it with a lid.
"How's it going out there?" he asks. We talk every few weeks, and this is always his first question. He knows I’ve been buying property, but I haven’t fully explained to him how much I like Sierra Grande.
I rest a hip against the counter and look out the window where Jessie sits. The sun grows dark, amber-hued like her hair. The trees block the view of the horizon, but the sky above is beginning to purple on one side, arcing across the expanse like veins.
"Well," I answer, knowing it won't be enough. "I met someone."
“Oh yeah?” he asks, his tone cautious. He knows firsthand how shaky the path to moving on can be. "Tell me about your someone."
"Her name is Jessie Hayden, and she's—"
