He chuckled and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. “I’m tired,” she said.
“Then you want to get some rest,” he said.
“Agreed.”
She was exhausted. She felt different. She definitely needed to sleep that off.
And in the morning Flynn would still be here. That was a sobering thought.
Chapter 11
I was wrong. He asked to take a walk with me today, and I told him he could. I expected him to offer money, to ask for my body. He took my arm instead. He walked me to the end of the lane and told me he’d like to do it again. Like I was a lady.
—Belle Martin’s Diary, April 1868
Early in the morning, Flynn woke up before Jessie, who was curled into a little ball on her stomach. He got up, went over to her coffee maker, and started fiddling with it until he managed to get a pot going. He was still reeling from the night before. From all the revelations.
He tapped his fingers in time with the sound of the percolating coffee. Her first time. Damn. He never would’ve guessed that in a million years, and he wasn’t sure what he would’ve done if he’d known prior to their actually … getting to that point.
By the time they were actually in the trailer, by the time she had confessed, he was past the point of no return. So he had decided that he would be as gallant and skilled as possible. Sure, if she had told him to stop, he would have, but she had said she wanted him. Maybe if his head weren’t swimming with need for her, he would’ve made a different decision. Maybe if she’d said at the restaurant,I want you to take my virginity …
Yeah. He still would’ve done it. He was lying to himself. He had wanted Jessie for so long that he would never have turned down the chance to have her, no matter what the circumstances.
His stomach tightened. Maybe this was what had kept him away from her all those years. Maybe some kind of instinct.
Because now it wasn’t just sex. Knowing that it had taken awhole lot of trust for her to tell him the truth. Yeah. It was complicated now.
And when he was a young man, he would’ve run from complicated.
He had never exactly run toward it as an older man. But when it had looked him in the face, he had been brave enough not to run.
You were horny.
Whatever.
He clattered around the kitchen looking for a mug and poured himself a generous portion of brew.
Jessie still didn’t stir.
He moved over to the bed and looked at her. Her hair was in her face, and she looked … He wondered if this was how she would look all the time if she wasn’t so dedicated to maintaining her facade. He had never spent the night with a woman before. It was almost more intimate than sex. He put his hand on her face and rubbed her cheek. And she sat bolt upright, windmilling her arms. Letting the blankets fall to her waist, exposing her breasts. Then she looked at him, and her mouth dropped open. “Oh, right.”
He laughed. “Did you forget?”
“I was sleeping,” she said, drawing her knees up, but not the blankets.
“I know. It’s getting late.”
“It’s not late,” she said.
“I’m a rancher. It’s late for me.”
“Oh. Do you have to go see to your animals or whatever?”
“Elk are pretty self-sufficient. There’s general maintenance, but they’re fine for the morning.”
“I have rehearsal,” she said.
“And the show tonight, right?”
