Page 19 of Wild As Her

And me? I nearly drop the coffee I’m holding. Because bossy Jack? Yeah, that gets to me, too.

I cross my arms and lean against the trailer window, enjoying the show. Oh yeah. This is gonna be good.

I watch with fascination as she reluctantly exits the trailer. I want to watch what happens and pretend to be busy making coffee, even though there are no coffee orders.

I hear Jack say, “Why would you do this and not even ask me first? I had to hear it from Weston.”

“I tried talking to you multiple times, Jack. I even resorted to email. You’ve been so preoccupied lately. I had to sign you up for it, guaranteeing your spot to the other producers. I did it for you, Jack. For all of us. This money could really change things for the ranch. We can make it ours and not our father’s. We can do things the right way. The way mom would have wanted to do them. This is my way of contributing and helping get the ranch in a stable financial place.”

“This is our lives, Jenna. Do you want us to put you on a show to find you a husband? How would you like that?” he asks as he crosses his arms.

His beefy arms, I might add. He looks pissed under his usual black cowboy hat, sunglasses, and faded navy t-shirt.

“Actually, hell yeah,” she admits. “But it’s TV. It’s forentertainment. A lot of reality TV shows are scripted and for views. You can do this. I know you can. And then you can have money for?—”

“That’s enough,” he snaps.

“Okay, I get it. I was just trying to help. I promise. I’d never put you, Weston, or Tucker in a bad position,” she reassures him.

“A little heads up would have been nice. They’re here in our town starting to film, and I’m just being made aware of it. It’s my fucking ranch, too.”

Now Jenna looks angry. “The ranch is all of ours. I have a part in this.”

“Oh, yeah? Then fucking act like it, Jenna. You won’t even come home to sleep. He’s gone, you know. And he’s never coming back.”

“I know,” she says quietly. “It’s just hard. It’s like his ghost is lurking there. And he’s not even dead.”

“He might as well be. All of us need to make decisions together,” he says with emphasis on “together”.

I can’t see where he’s looking because he’s got sunglasses on, but then I realize he catches me staring, so I look down and pretend to wipe down the counters. I've been wiping them for five minutes now, and they're already spotless.

Jenna says something and then heads to her SUV, and I’m relieved that they’re done fighting. I hate seeing them fight.

That’s when I feel something behind me. I turn and startle when I see him leaning against the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. “Enjoying the show?”

I straighten my shoulders and smirk at him. “Maybe. Heard you’re going to find a wife.”

“That right?” he asks, not looking happy about this fact.

“God, I hope they’re paying those women enough for this,” I say, trying not to laugh. “I mean…I guess you’ve been through half the women in the state of Wyoming, so now they have to fly in a gaggle of women who are lucky enoughnotto know you.”

Jack stares at me and shakes his head. “Haven’t had you. Want to make the list?”

I stare at him and offer my best eyeroll. But butterflies fill my belly at the thought of being with Jack. Not telling him that though. “Not a chance, Jessop.”

He changes the subject and asks, “Granger been around your place any?”

I shrug. “No, it’s been pretty quiet. I think my shotgun scared him off.”

His eyes are fixed on me, a smirk turning at his lips. “Yeah, that must be it.”

He pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and fishes out a twenty. Prowling toward me, he takes up all the space in the trailer. He cages me to the counter, and I can feel my breath hitch and my heart skip a beat. I’m 5’7”, and Jack is easily over 6 feet tall, and his height towers over me, giving him an advantage. I crane my neck to focus my eyes on him, unable to speak at how close his body is to mine. He never looks away, as if he’s challenging me.

He's close enough that I can feel his heat, smell his body wash, and count all the various hues of green flecks in his eyes. The length of his eyelashes is brutally unfair. His neatly trimmed beard makes me wonder what it would feel like under my hands. His muscled forearms and biceps are on display, bulging under his t-shirt sleeves.

He presses even closer, the points of my nipples grazing his shirt ever so slightly, to the point where I have to bite back a whimper. “I sure hope my new wife bakes half as good as you.”

He reaches behind me and sets down the money. He takes two scones and sets them on a napkin. Then, without a word, hescoops the bundle from the counter, turns, and leaves the trailer, pointing his truck back towards the ranch.

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