Dammit, I loved that man, and he’d been left to just hang outside all night thanks to the guy in front of me with an amused expression that made me want to slap it off. Made me want to punch it off.
“I’ve dropped the ball on that basic stuff my whole life. Sorry, Rowen. Sorry, Rowen’s Boyfriend.” Jax lifted his champagne glass again and, that time, drained the entire thing.
My eyebrows came together. I’d met Jax in September, and we’d never had a problem. In fact, in a lot of ways, he’d seemed like the male version of me. Artistic, naturally cynical, dry sense of humor, same taste in music . . . but that night, he’d pissed me off big time. From that smug smile, he knew it, too. No apologies about it.
“That was an ass**le move to pull.” I glared at him, reaching for Jesse’s hand to keep from shoving Jax.
“You know my reputation on campus?” Jax replied, his brown eyes darkening. “Why would you expect anything more than an ass**le move from an ass**le?”
I flinched like his words had been a slap. “What the hell is wrong with you? Did a wire trip in your brain in the past fifteen minutes?” Jesse’s hands were still attached to my shoulders, but instead of holding me back, they were holding me steady.
“Yeah. A wire did trip in my brain.” Jax drilled his index finger into his temple. “Forgive me for being human. I’m not your infallible, perfect cowboy.” Without so much as a good-bye, Jax sped away from Jesse and me like we were radioactive.
“What in the hell is wrong with him?” I said more to myself than to Jesse.
“Long day. He’s just tired. I’m sure tomorrow he’ll wake up his usual Jax self—whoever that is—have a cup of coffee, call, and apologize. Then you two can get back to putting together kickass art shows.”
My anger shut off like a switch had been hit. “Do you always have to see the good in everyone?”
“No, I don’t have to. I just choose to.”
I stepped into Jesse’s arms. There wasn’t a single wrinkle of concern on his forehead. Mine felt like it was pinched together with hundreds. “And you’re with someone like me because . . .?”
“Because I’m supposed to be with you.” His answer came easily, effortlessly.
“What if tomorrow morning you wake up and supposed to be flies out the window?”
“No worries,” he replied with a lift of his shoulder.
“‘No worries’?” I rolled my eyes. “Really?”
“Really. Because whether supposed to be flies out the window tonight, or tomorrow, or fifty years from now, I’m not going anywhere because I’ll always want to be with you.”
I rested my head against his chest as a smile formed. “I feel like I should keep arguing because it’s too soon to forfeit, but I think no matter what I argue back with, you’ve kind of got me on this.”
“Yeah. You’re right. I’ve really got you.” One of Jesse’s arms circled my waist as the other reached for my hand. “Dance with me.” It wasn’t a question. He was already moving to an imaginary beat.
“What? There’s no dance floor. There’s barely any music. There’re bored millionaires wandering around just looking for something to lift their noses at.” I liked dancing with Jesse. I might not readily admit it, but dancing with Jesse was one of the few things that gave me hope that the world wasn’t eminently doomed.
“Come on. Dance with me.” When he used that tone, the just-above-a-plea one, I’d learned months ago it was useless to put up a fight. I lost every time.
“Fine,” I grumbled half-heartedly.
Staying right where we were, in front of the painting that made me as transparent as one person could be, he led me in a dance I knew I’d never forget. That was one of those moments that would be tattooed into my memory forever. I’d been living more and more of those since meeting Jesse Walker.
“You know I love to dance with you,” he whispered, rubbing his thumb over the beading at my lower back.
“Remember our first dance?”
I felt his smile against my forehead. “How could I forget?”
Chapter Six
SOMETIMES JESSE FELT very near, like last night when he curled around me in bed and held me until I fell asleep. And sometimes Jesse felt very far, like that morning when I woke up to an empty bed and cold sheets.
I didn’t like him starting mile one of a five hundred mile trip at ten o’clock at night, but arguing with him was useless. Honestly, my heart was only half in the argument because extra time with Jesse was hard to argue with. Jesse had to be back on the ranch first thing Monday morning. When he didn’t leave until Sunday night, he arrived back at Willow Springs barely in time for breakfast. That meant he went from driving for eight hours to working for twelve on no sleep. Not that I needed the confirmation, but Jesse Walker was some kind of superhuman.
Prying myself out of bed on those Monday mornings was always extra hard. I woke up knowing it could be upwards of a solid month before we saw each other again. I tried to make it to the ranch every month, but a couple of times work, school, or a combination of both had made those trips impossible. That Monday, however, was somewhat easier since spring break was less than two weeks away, and I’d get to spend a whole week at Willow Springs. Just thinking about Willow Springs made me homesick. That might be silly given I’d only spent three months of my nineteen years there, but it was . . . home. At least by every definition of the word save for duration.