She is one-hundred-percent, totally and unequivocally, Jessie.
21
Jessie
The noteI left for Wes worked.
Monday through Friday, plus a Saturday turning out bulls. That's how many days Wes has asked me to help. Honestly, I thought I'd driven the final nail in the coffin when we had our argument over dandelions.
Over the course of the week I managed to slip into conversation some of the ideas I have for the HCC.I bet we could turn a handful of unused HCC land into a pick-your-own farm. Seasonal attractions would do well out here and create a sense of community. I wonder how much people would pay to rent plots for a community garden?
Not only did Wes absorb every word, he didn’t argue with me about what I’d said.
Could it be he actually finds me helpful? Knowledgeable? Valuable?
Gasp.
My entire body hurts, but I'd never admit it out loud. Every night I soak in a bath, the water as hot as I can stand. I stretch every morning and night, wincing the first time I lift my arms above my head.
I've never felt more like I deserved a day off. Sunday, blessed Sunday. The Lord's day, my grandma Janice called it. Then she'd cuss on a Monday. God, I miss her.
Sawyer is in the backyard, sitting in a chair he bought this week. It reclines, and he geeked out on it being zero gravity. He'd asked if I wanted one, and I told him I'm perfectly fine putting my ass in chairs that don't feel like a carnival ride. He'd laughed and reached out, playfully tugging on a strand of my hair. He also added an outdoor grill to my backyard, and that’s an addition I will definitely use.
The sexual tension between us has become nearly unbearable. I’ve always wanted him to make the first move, and now that I know he’s a widower, I’ve double-downed on that stance. Still, it’s killing me slowly. I feel it on him too, desire rolling off his skin.
Every night we watch TV together, snack on the couch, and laugh at the same punchlines. And if I weren’t giving myself sweet relief when I climb under my covers after I say goodnight to him, I think I’d be in pieces on my living room floor by now.Here lies fragments of Jessie, she died of extreme desire.
The more I get to know Sawyer, the more I like him. Before bed he pre-measures his morning coffee, and I thought it was nerdy until I witnessed him dragging his tired feet into the kitchen one morning, eyes in sleepy slits, and sloppily reached out for the button on the coffee maker. I liked seeing this about him. He's so buttoned up all the time, socomposed.Witnessing this part of his personality made me feel like I was in on a secret. A special Sawyer secret.
"Good morning," I say, joining him once I've poured a cup for myself and added creamer.
He glances over. The sun skirts over the top of his head, burnishing his brown hair in shades of caramel. His eyes, however, remain stormy gray. The sunlight cannot change that.
"You slept in," he remarks, setting his phone on his thigh. By now, I know he reads news from various sources every morning.
"Long week," I answer, sipping my coffee and flinching at the temperature. "But don't you dare tell Wes I said that."
"I would never," he answers, giving me a wink over his coffee cup. "What are your plans today?"
There was a time not too far from now when I might've said something along the lines ofboozy brunch with Lindsay and watching a movie.Now, that's not even in the realm of things I want to do. I am so beyond satisfied to be where I am, I can't imagine how that used to be my Sunday norm.
"I need to get a few things for the house," I incline my head back to the cabin that is feeling more and more like mine every day. And Sawyer's. Mine and Sawyer's. How bizarre. "You?"
"I'd like to go exploring. I haven't seen very much of the HCC."
I blow across my coffee. "Screw shopping for the house. That can happen later this afternoon. How about I take you to a place I consider to be one of the most special places on the HCC?"
Sawyer nods. "It's a date." His eyes meet mine, gray seeping into blue, a storm over an ocean.
I duck my head and drink my coffee. "It's a date," I echo.
"Please don't giveme one of those horses Wyatt is known for taming." Sawyer gives me a warning look.
I roll my eyes and set out for the stable. It's a bit of a walk, but I don't mind. It's beautiful out.
"I wouldn't even go near one of those horses, and I've been riding as long as I've been able to walk." I smile over at him. "Don't worry, I'll give you the mare every one of the grandkids learns to ride on."
Sawyer makes a noise with his lips. "Great. What's next, a child-size table and chairs? I'm already sleeping in a twin bed." He wraps a hand around the back of his neck and rolls it, making a few circles in both directions. Just for emphasis, I'm positive.
