Page 45 of Wild As Her

Jack smirks, shaking his head. “See, this is why I usually just stick to pissing you off.”

“Oh, trust me, Jessop, you’re still pissing me off.”

“Good,” he says easily. “Wouldn’t want you getting soft on me.”

I roll my eyes, but things feel lighter now between us. The weight of the day, of everything, isn’t gone.

But it’s easier to carry with Jack riding beside me. But I’ll be damned if I tell him that. I steal another glance at him, watchingthe way he looks out over the ranch, the way he rides like he belongs here, like maybe he always has.

And then, because I can’t help myself, I smirk and say, “Hey, don’t you have a wife to go find?”

Jack smirks, eyes glinting with something dangerous. “You keep talking like that, Cami, and people might start thinking you’re jealous.”

I grin. "What? Isn’t there a whole group of women arriving soon to fight for the honor of becoming Mrs. Jack Jessop, Jr?"

Jack arches a brow. “That’s cute. Keep talking, and I’ll sign you up for the show.”

My stomach does something stupid, a little jolt, a flicker of something annoyingly close to panic.

Because for half a second my brain supplies the image of me standing on that ridiculous show, wearing some frilly dress, lined up with a bunch of women while Jack, smug, infuriating, too-damn-good-looking Jack Jessop stands there judging us like some prize cattle auction.

Nope. Absolutely not. I force a casual shrug, even though my ears feel too hot, and I suddenly can’t look directly at him. “Wow, Jessop. Didn’t know you were so desperate to marry me.”

Jack just smirks, slow and easy, like he knows exactly what he’s doing, like he can see right through me, and that only makes me want to kick him off his horse. “You’ve always hated your last name. You can have mine.”

So, I do what I do best. I double down. I tilt my head, all mock innocence. “Wait, does this mean I’d get to be your wife in the end?” I clutch my chest, gasping. “Jack, are you proposing?”

Jack groans, dragging a hand down his face. “I should’ve just let you cry in peace.”

I grin, victorious, but deep down, my pulse is still kicking up dust.

I laugh, letting the sound fill the air between us, and for the first time all day, I feel like I might actually be okay.

After a long afternoon of baking, I’ve showered and taken a two-hour nap that still wasn’t long enough to erase today's annoyance of my mother coming by and acting toxic, so I grab my phone and dial Violet.

She picks up before the first ring even finishes.

“Oh, thank God,” she breathes. “I was just about to call you. Are we in damage control or denial?”

“I guess both. I need a girls’ night,” I say, my voice flat, exhausted, done.

I can practically hear the grin in her voice. “Oh, hell yes. I'll make it happen. I’ll grab the girls, and we’ll come over tonight.”

It starts normal enough at the house. A few drinks, some light venting, a lot of eye-rolling about my mother’s visit.

The thing is, my mom isn’t a bad person. In fact, everyone loves her around here. We just have never been close. And she’s been through a lot. I’ll give her that. But she just doesn’t support me like she does my brother, and I don’t know why. I could sit here and say it’s not fair, etc. But guess what? I’ve learned life isn’t fair. And whenever I decided that I was going to roll with the punches, life got better. Not easier. But better.

But then, somewhere between shot number three and four, my carefully held-in feelings explode.

“She’s never even tried my coffee!” I shout, slamming my glass down as Violet and Poppy gasp dramatically.

Poppy shakes her head, scandalized. “I mean, that is criminal.”

Violet points a finger. “I bet she drinks hospital cafeteria coffee and that’s what she deserves.”

I groan, dropping my head onto the table. “I’m just. I’m so done.”

Poppy slams her hands down. “Then we are officially doing the responsible thing.”

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