“Albert just helped me monetize the cage I was already building. And now I don’t know who I am without the brand, without the audience, without someone telling me what to paint.”
“So you came here to figure that out.”
“That’s partly true. It’s what I tell myself, but I came here to hide.” I stare at the cracks in the sidewalk. “And, yeah, I want to figure it out too.”
“And what do you want to make? If no one was watching. If there were no algorithm, no client, no agent telling you what sells.”
I open my mouth to answer and realize I don’t have one.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I used to know. But it’s been so long since I made something spontaneous that I can’t remember what that feels like.”
Tank closes the gap. Not touching, but close enough that I’d barely have to lean to change that.
“Then maybe that’s where you start.”
“It’s not that simple. I have contracts. Obligations. A career that?—”
“You’re the talent, Jessie.” No room for argument. Just Tank, steady as bedrock, looking at me like I’m the only one who hasn’t figured this out yet. “Those galleries, those clients, that asshole agent—they needyou.Not the other way around.”
“Believing that is terrifying.” My hands are shaking. When did that start? “If I’m worth more than what I’m getting, then I have todosomething about it. Walk away from the only career path Iknow and hope I can build something better. And what if I can’t? What if I blow up my whole life and end up with nothing?”
Tank holds my gaze.
“Then you start over. Here. Somewhere else. Doesn’t matter. At least you’d be free.”
Free.
A flutter kicks up somewhere south of my common sense. I’ve spent my entire life running from anything that felt like a cage. And here I am, trapped in a career that’s slowly suffocating me, telling myself it’s what I wanted.
“I don’t know how to stay somewhere long enough to build something,” I whisper.
“You’ve been staying with me.”
“That’s different.”
“Is it? Seems like you’re building something right here. Whether you meant to or not.”
“Tank—”
He doesn’t let me finish.
One second there’s space between us, and the next he’s got me caged against the side of his truck, one hand braced beside my head, the other cupping my jaw with a gentleness that contradicts everything about his size.
“Tell me this isn’t what you want, and I’ll back off.” His voice is wrecked. “I’ll never mention it again.”
I grab the front of his flannel and pull him closer.
“Don’t you dare.”
Chapter 8
Tank
She pulls me closer, and my thoughts fade away.
My mouth finds hers, and this kiss is nothing like our first—a tentative exploration on the porch, testing boundaries, learning each other. This desperate kiss demands, “I need you now, don't stop.”
Jessie half moans, half whimpers against my lips, and I swallow it whole. My hand moves from her jaw to the back of her neck, tilting her head so I can deepen the kiss. She tastes of huckleberry pie and coffee and something uniquely her. Something I’m already addicted to.
