by Stuart, Amie
"Relax." He silently stood and circled around to sit beside her. She felt fragile tucked in his arms. Like a stiff wind would blow her away or the right words would shatter her. "It's alright."
Chapter Nine
Jessa
"No. No, it's not all right." I stared into the kindest, prettiest green eyes I'd ever seen, a ball of dread making it impossible for me to even think about eating.
"Everyone's allowed to blow off steam."
If anything, his kindnesses compounded my sins. I was a liar. I'd been a liar for months. Yes, the only things I'd lied about were my name and my job, but the simple fact remained that I was a liar. There were no two ways around it.
There was only going through it and that meant coming clean.
Finally, I just blurted it out, "I lied."
Zack's brows puckered in obvious confusion as he leaned back in his chair and softly said, "About?"
"It wasn't a skiing accident." At his silence, I nervously continued, my entire body tense with dread, "And my name isn't Hope. It is, but it isn't…my…my middle name is Hope. My first name is Jessalyn. I'm…I used to ride roughstock. In the rodeo. A lot." I could literally feel myself sputtering out and dying right there and poor Zack just looked so confused, and yeah, a little angry while all these crazy half-sentences kept falling out of my mouth. "I competed professionally."
"And your injuries?" he muttered. The arm that had earlier rested on my shoulders was gone. His hands were in his lap and he'd turned to face me.
"Real. I wiped out. Back in December." Tears burned for release but I sucked in a deep breath and pushed on, "I was unconscious and when I woke up, my family really was gone. Except for my brother and Kane. The getting fired thing was really about my last sponsor officially cutting ties. I've spent the last four months rehabbing my leg so I could walk…I'm sorry," I finally sputtered out. "I really like you."
"I don't even know what to say right now." Zack slowly stood and reclaimed the seat across from me as the waitress delivered our food. We both picked at our plates for a few minutes. "I don't even know what to say."
"I didn't lie about how I felt."
His head snapped up and his eyes narrowed slightly. "How am I supposed to know that?"
Touche! I decided to go for complete and brutal honesty because I had nothing to lose at this point, except maybe the cost of a wasted trip. "Saddle Bronc riding is normally a man's sport. So when my dad told me to keep my legs closed if I was going to compete, I did. That's why I'm a virgin. At first, I worried about my dad finding out, you know, that I was messing around. I was young," I ended with a shrug. "Then, later on, after I'd made a good name for myself, it was hard. I mean, I dated. Men. But I've never even had a boyfriend. 'Cause my dad was right." As badly as it seemed I was flubbing this, I kept talking. It was all I could do, keep talking till he walked away and left me sitting there. "Sometimes I could just tell—"
"Tell what?" he finally asked.
"That they weren't really interested in me. They were only interested in being seen with the only female saddle bronc champion in the history of the PRA. Or interested in notching their belt with me. Guess I took Daddy's lessons to heart because I never..." Grimacing slightly, I focused on my plate and my breathing. With my appetite gone, the food I'd once been so hungry for was now just something to push and stir around. "I'm sorry," I said again. "I'm so sorry—" I shook my head. "I shouldn't have lied. You're so kind, and handsome and—" I stopped speaking at his arched eyebrow. "I wouldn't blame you if you just left me here." His almost eerie calm was hard to figure out. Why wasn't he yelling or something? Anything? Why was he just sitting there scowling at me?
"Momma raised me better. Is there anything else? Anything at all?"
"No. I realize you asked for a virgin because you wanted woman who has integrity…and self-respect. I have both of those. And I know it might not seem like it right now but I'm everything I said I was."
"Just not an accountant," he said, then forked up a bite of his lunch and chewed thoughtfully.
"No," I said with a depreciating smile, "not an accountant, but I do have an associate's degree."
He smiled and a part of me relaxed. "Okay."
"Okay?" I sipped my tea and waited to see what was next.
"Everybody lies. Everybody," he added, forking up another bite.
"Even you?"
He stared across the table at me, his demeanor solemn. "Even me."
"What did you lie about?" I asked, curious.
"I didn't lie to you. I lied to my family, but you have to earn the right to hear about it, and your lunch is getting cold."
***
Afterward we made a slow circle around Gruene, taking in more of the sights, our pre-lunch camaraderie not quite restored. Despite my confusion over his reaction, at his simple acceptance of my lie, my mood improved considerably.
"Can I ask you something?" I asked as we exited a dry goods store.
"Anything."
"Are you sure you're okay with what happened earlier?'
"I get why you did it, but honestly, no. You lied about your name, you lied about your profession, you didn't lie about being married."
I shook my head.
"Sounds like you…had a real rough time. And like I said, everyone lies. To each other, even to ourselves."
"You mean the lie you told your family?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me. Maybe I didn't deserve to know but…
"I'm not ready to share that."
"I know." I suppose waiting was my punishment. This wasn't anything like our emails. I couldn't read him, couldn't tell what he was thinking. "Fair enough. Then tell me something else."
"Like what?"
"Anything."
"If I tell you something, you have to tell me something. Deal?"
"Deal."
"My brother, Ty, asked how I knew you weren't married and ditching a family. I told him you weren't a liar."
Ouch.
"Tim said maybe you needed money."
"I don't."
"For a second, when you were talking about being in the hospital and losing your job, I thought he was right."
I nodded slowly, unsure of what to say, other than, I didn't really blame him. "I guess that's understandable."
"Don't ever lie to me again…Jessa."
My cheeks burned at the sound of my real name on his lips. "I won't."
"Now it's your turn."
We walked quietly for about half a block while I considered what to say. "I'm scared."
"Of what?"
Now came the hard part, the thing I hadn't even told Jace or Kane. The thing I didn't like thinking about, but after my lies, I figured I owed Zack one. "The rest of my life. I don't know how to be anything other than a cowgirl and I'm not good at this…" I waved a hand between us, "…man/woman relationship stuff." Despite my burning cheeks, I laughed, my eyes on the ground. "I had to go buy girly clothes. Like, real girly, non-western, girl clothes because that's pretty much all I own. And I kicked my brother out. After he took care of me for four months. What kind of person does that? I guess I'm just not good with people."
"Why did you kick him out?"
I quickly explained then added, "This is a lot harder than email," and then we both laughed.
Chapter Ten
Zack
Hope…Jessa—Zack mentally corrected himself—shopped but never lingered anywhere for too long. Zack watched her intently; it was hard not to as he reconciled everything he'd learned about her at lunch with what he thought he knew. She was gorgeous, lies or no lies. Which he got. She was, he guessed, an intensely private and proud woman who'd spent over a decade in an intensely physical man's world.
"Sure you're not bored?" she asked for the tenth or twelfth time as they stepped out of the General Store.
"Absolutely not. Now quit frettin'. I'm gonna run these bags to the truck and I'll be right back."
He stored her bags of t-shirts, souvenirs and jars
of orange-pecan butter in the truck then ran back across the street to join her. "Ready for one more?"
"Do we have time?"
"I'm all yours." In more ways than one. If anything, her brutal honesty at lunch had, in some weird way, endeared her to him even more. No, he didn't like that she'd lied, but after the lies he'd told his family about Travis, who was he to judge? He offered her an arm, frowning in concern as she leaned on him heavily. "Are you too tired?"
"I'm wearing down a bit," she admitted heavily.
"Last stop, and then we'll hit the road," he murmured, leading her across the street and into a little shop. The clerk greeted them with a smile then went back to her phone conversation, leaving them to wander around in peace.
Jessa oohed and aahed over the handmade picture frames, sniffed every candle and picked through the Texas-style Christmas ornaments, completely into checking out every last thing in the store. Then she'd stop and glance at him, her cheeks pink, and ask if he was bored. He wasn't. He didn't really mind shopping that much and enjoyed watching her more than anything.
"How in the world could you ever decide what to buy?" she sighed, leaning against him. "It's like a shopper's banquet in here."
Zack chuckled. She was right. They had a little something for everyone. "You could always ship it home."
They wandered into one last nook and stopped simultaneously at the dress in front of them. It was pale pink; not white, but made out of thin, crinkled cotton-like material with slashed sleeves that would leave a woman's arms bare. It was fitted around the waist with a deep v-cut neckline edged in lace.
"That's pretty." She tilted her head to one side.
He let go of her arm, lifted it off the hook and checked the tiny tag. "Small," he said softly, holding it out to her.
She swallowed hard and looked the dress over again, then gave him an almost apologetic smile. "I don't think I've ever worn anything so pretty."
The wistfulness in her voice brought him closer. He reached up and brushed her hair off her face. "Go try it on."
She stood there, obviously locked in a silent debate. Zack reached up again and touched a small scar near her temple, then let his fingers trail down her face. He ran his knuckles across her jaw and under her chin, tilting her face upward so he could kiss her. He quickly wet his lips and brushed them across hers, biting back a groan and the urge to slide his tongue past her lips. Instead his lips trailed across her cheek, then upward to plant another soft kiss on the scar.
Sketching her in the pink dress in a field of bluebonnets wasn't enough. He wanted to see her naked against a background of midnight blue velvet with the same soft, expectant expression she wore on her face now.
Then he wanted to make love to her.
"I want you to pose in the nude for me."
Chapter Eleven
Jessa
I kept my head down and my eyes closed, hoping Zack wouldn't realize how much his request had caught me off guard. I mean, he was mad at me, wasn't he?
"Think about it." The husky growl of his voice made me shiver, but before I could respond, the clerk appeared out of nowhere.
"Everything okay over there?"
"I'd like to try this on," I choked out, shoving the dress in her direction. That would at least buy me a few minutes to pull myself together, catch my breath, and prevent me from gawking at him like a fourteen-year-old.
She took the dress with a nod and a smile and led the way to the dressing room up front. Once I had a closed door to hide behind, I breathed a deep sigh of relief.
What the hell was I thinking? I was thinking if he kept looking at me like he had a few minutes ago I'd be doing more than posing nude for him.
Speaking of nude...
I stripped down to my bra and panties and pulled the dress off the hanger. I held it up in front of me and stared. The silly, feminine part of me desperately wanted it. The same part of me that had me blinking and struggling for air every time he touched me. He probably thought I was a complete henwit. Or that I had some sort of eye disease. More importantly, I wanted Zack to see me in this dress. I wanted it to look okay, kind of like I wanted us to be okay.
"Does it fit?"
I jumped and turned toward the closed door. Zack's voice sounded so close, he could have been in the room with me. That thought sent a shiver of need down my spine. "Hang on."
I threw the dress over my head only to tug it right back off, unzip it and step in. The zipper stopped at my shoulder blades and I couldn't quite get it all the way back up with my bad shoulder, but it would just have to do. I tugged everything in place and took a good look at myself.
I looked...busty. Much bustier than I was used to. And I felt naked under the full pink skirt that stopped at my ankles. Maybe I wasn't meant to wear dresses. I'm not sure what was worse: how stupid I felt or how stupid I looked. This was a stupid idea and I actually contemplated telling Zack it didn't fit.
"Come model it for us," the clerk coaxed.
Great. I guess not. With one last deep breath, I opened the dressing room door and stepped out.
"Oh, don't you look beautiful. If I didn't know better, I'd swear that dress was made just for you," the clerk gushed. She probably did that with all the customers. It was her job to gush. Gushing equaled sales after all.
I peeked up at Zack, my stomach unsettled from nerves, then back at the clerk. The phone rang and she excused herself again, disappearing around the corner.
"You look beautiful," he said, his face solemn.
"Thanks." I took another peek and didn't miss the hungry look in his eyes.
"I-I didn't mean to put you on the spot back there. It was just a thought. Sometimes...my artistic side—" he finished with a shrug and an apologetic smile, "It gets the better of me."
"It's okay." I swallowed anything else I might have said as he moved closer. There was no place for me to look and nowhere for me to hide my tell-tale red face.
I was wholly and completely out of my element.
And it only got worse as his fingers trailed up the back of one arm, causing a slow heat to curl in my belly. I forced myself to quit acting like a ninny and look at Zack, a part of me wondering what he saw when I did.
"Well, what did we decide?" the clerk called out.
"We'll take it," I replied, smiling up at him.
***
By the time we reached the hotel, my leg ached so badly I wondered how I'd make it upstairs. Zack watched me slide out of the truck and take a few tentative steps. "You alright?" He led me inside with a frown on his face.
I sighed. "I'm ready for a cold pack and a lay-down."
"Where's your elevator?" Zack asked the clerk—a man now—at the counter.
"Other side of the stairs." He pointed to a hallway located behind the stairs. It wasn't far but looked like miles.
Zack pulled me up short and tucked my shopping bags tightly together under one arm, then wrapped his other arm around my shoulder. "Put your arm around me."
I did, tentatively at first, then allowed him to pull me closer and slowly lead me toward the elevator.
"Punch the call button, would ya?"
I did and the doors immediately slid open. We stepped inside and turned around so I could punch the "2" on the panel.
"Thank you."
"It was either this or carry you." His lips twitched under his goatee, and I couldn't resist a smile of my own.
Once I had the door to my room unlocked, he stepped in ahead of me, holding the door so I could limp inside.
"Cold packs?" Obviously Zack liked playing Sir Galahad, but I wasn't sure I liked being a Damsel in Distress and was relieved he hadn't picked me up.
"In the fridge." I kicked my shoes off and debated how to get my jeans off in front of him. It wasn't just the cold pack I wanted but a pillow under my knee and a couple of Advil from my overnight bag too.
He returned from the tiny fridge in the dressing area with both of them. "Where do you want them?"
"Here's
fine."
"What else?" he asked, dropping them on the bed beside me.
"You know, Zack, I can do this."
"What else?" he said, one eyebrow slightly arched.
"There's a bag on the counter—" I pointed at the dressing area, "—with some Advil in it."
"Sure you don't need something stronger?"
I shook my head. "I gave those up a few weeks after I got home from Vegas."
Zack politely waited in the dressing area while I shucked out of my jeans and got settled in the bed. "Ready."
He reappeared with the pill bottle and a cup of water, and sat on the mattress edge.
"Thanks," I said, taking the meds from him. "I'm sorry, Zack, I didn't mean for our date to end like this."
"You should have said something." There was no mistaking the slight scold in his tone, but I didn't have the heart to be mad at him.
"I guess I was having too good a time."
He motioned to my leg, "Do you regret it?"
I burst out laughing before I could stop myself, then I stared up at the ceiling, blinking back a round of tears I refused to release. He had no idea. Some days I regretted rodeoing with every fiber of my being; some days I missed it so much it was like a physical ache. He disappeared again only to return with tissues. This time he stretched out beside me and wrapped an arm around me.
"I know the accident and everything was…bad, really bad, and yes, I'm still mad at you, but I'm glad you're here."
I curled up against the length of him, dragging my pillow and cold-packs with me, and dried my tears. "Thanks."
"Better?"
"Yeah." I felt his fingers in my hair and realized he'd taken the clip out. I couldn't remember the last time someone played with my hair and I was afraid if I moved, he'd stop. How something so gentle and seemingly innocent could be so seductive I had no clue, but it was.
I stretched out against him, mindful of my aching leg, and rested my free hand on his chest. He felt solid and warm against me, and if being safe could turn you on, I was. Safe wasn't the right word. Cherished. Cared for.