Page 79 of Space Cowgirl: Houston, All Systems Go
Dang it. I shrug out of my shirt. Why can’t I be attracted to someone easy? Someone without secrets, a dangerous job, or an affinity for the word fuck?
Jules’ reaction to the last time I said fuck plays through my mind, making it harder to get my jeans off. Penguins. That’s what’s printed on my boxers today.
I sigh and sit down on the edge of my bed, freeing my ankles from my jeans. Jules may get off on dirty words, but she also gets off over ridiculous boxer prints.
She is a walking contradiction.
She wears leather pants. But also worn, loose jeans. Workaholic. Drops everything to help her friends. Calls a spade a spade. Flashes fake smiles. Likes it rough. Likes to cuddle.
Rubbing a hand over my face, I groan and fall back on the bed.
The porch door slams shut. I don’t hear bootsteps on the stairs, which means Jules took the time to take them off even though she thinks my house rule is ridiculous. The realization takes some of the edge off my emotions.
Her bedroom door opens and closes. Huh. I thought she’d come straight here.
Thinking she’s going to take a shower, I scoot up the bed and lay back, waiting. A few minutes go by, but the sound of running water never starts.
I give her five more minutes then I’m out the door, making my way to her.
“Jules?” I knock.
She doesn’t answer. I knock again, then slowly open the door. “Jules, you in there?”
And she is, standing at the foot of her bed, backpack open, clothes scattered around. She doesn’t look up. Instead, she balls a shirt up and stuffs it into her bag. My fingers twitch, wanting to take it out and fold it properly.
Though it’s obvious, I can’t help but ask. “What are you doing?”
“I’m heading back to Clear Lake.” Her voice is hard and flat.
I swallow, trying to rein in the emotions I’d battled away just moments ago. She stuffs in a pair of leggings. On the bureau, her laptop is closed and its power cord wrapped up next to it. On top is a stack of paper. Her lists. “Does this have something to do with your phone buzzing all the time?”
Her body stills, just for a second, but it’s enough of an answer.
Still in the doorway, I can’t bring myself to come closer. “Is that why you’re leaving?”
“It…” Her nostrils flare, and I can almost see the wall she’s built up between us. “It doesn’t matter. I just need to go. Don’t worry about it.” She reaches back to grab her laptop, sliding it into her bag’s back compartment.
It doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about it.
I heard my mother tell my father those same things many times growing up. Until I was finally old enough to escape to the ranch. And even after Gramps passed I kept coming here, to the only place that would silence the sound of my father’s heartbreak and my mother’s indifference.
“Who sent you those texts, Jules?” I hate that I have to ask. I hate how the command in my voice makes Jules stiffen further.
“No one important.” Jules talks through gritted teeth, now shoving everything in sight into her bag.
“Oh really?”
“Yes.” She punches her clothes down. “Really.”
I cross my arms over my chest, feeling somewhat ridiculous being pissed and hurt while in animal print boxers. “They why can’t you tell me?”
Nothing. Though she’s only a step away, the space between us seems to grow wide and impassable.
With each zip of her bag, my heartbeat races faster. “Whokeeps texting you?”
Finally, Jules stops her manic packing. Her hands flex and release, her breathing hard while she stares a hole in the comforter in front of her. Silence stretches out over the abyss between us. It grates on my nerves.
“So I was just a fuck? Guess it’s in keeping with your MO.”
