Page 83 of Hung Up
What if he gets hurt? What if something goes wrong? What happens if he can’t finish out the season?
But the gate is yanked open, and the bull is flying out of its entrapment before I can think another negative thought. And as I watch, I’m not sure what I was so worried about. Well, an accident mostly. But watching him out there?
Jesse Hayes was meant to be a bull rider.
He lasts the full eight and lands effortlessly on his own two feet, and if my throat didn’t hurt as badly as it does, I’d definitely be cheering for him right now. So when his eyes land on mine, I give him a thumbs up instead, which has him beaming.
It still amazes me how the littlest of gestures from me seems to make his whole day.
He’s beside me before I even notice he slipped out of the ring, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me in for a hug. My arms are wrapping around his waist before I can stop them, settling into his embrace.God, his hugs always make me feel better.
I open my eyes and immediately see a few other riders whispering to one another, their attention fixed on us, and the reality of where we are comes crashing into me. I abruptly take a step back, giving him a strained smile, and his brows furrow. Tilting my head subtly to the right, he turns and notices we have an audience. He huffs and turns, heading for a more secludedhallway, so I wait a minute or two—until those riders who were watching us walk away—before I follow him.
He’s leaning with his back against the wall, his arms folded in front of himself, when I walk up to him. His body language would probably set off my warning bells if I weren’t sick, but I choose to ignore it.
“We can’t even hug in public?”
I shrug. “I never said that. I just don’t like when people stare at me like that.”
Huh, am I really not worried about being seen with him anymore, or is this the cold talking?
“You mean that?”
There’s so much hope in his voice that it has me slightly confused. I mean, we’ve been seen together plenty—dancing, drinking, talking, showing up at the arena together. I’m not sure why this seems to be any different.
“Of course.” He grabs my hand, pulling me closer. My hands land on his chest, his on my waist. “Great ride tonight, Pretty Boy. If you’re not a few points shy of Kai after that, I’ll be surprised.”
“I’m still mad at you for coming instead of staying back at the hotel and napping,” he tells me, his forehead landing on mine. “But I can’t lie, my ride benefited from your stupidity.”
I pull back. “Did you just call me stupid?”
“No,” he shakes his head. “I said ‘your stupidity’ meaning you made a stupid choice. Doesn’t mean you’re stupid.”
“Really?” I chuckle softly as he cups my cheek.
“Yup. That’s my story and I’m sticking with it. You’re the smartest person I know, Faith Thompson.” He dips his head, his nose pressing against mine and stealing the air from my lungs. “The smartest, sexiest, funniest, and most beautiful.”
His lips are on mine before I can respond. I sink into it easily, choosing to ignore the fact that I’m sick. If he wants to kiss me, who am I to deny him that?
It’s a slow, sensual kiss. One full of promise but also full of longing, one that I don’t want to ever end. I feel it in my bones, can suddenly feel every emotion he’s ever made me feel, and it’s overwhelming.
But for once, I don’t want them to go away. I don’t want to turn a blind eye and ignore them.
I want to face them head-on.
He pulls back, pressing a kiss against my forehead before he rests his against mine. His breath sounds a little shaky, and I can’t tell if it’s from the kiss or what’s on his mind.
“Faith,” he whispers, an ache in his voice that has me taking pause. “Please. Please tell me you feel it, too.”
“Jesse—”
“I can’t pretend I haven’t fallen for you.” His words have my breath hitching. “And it’s killing me not knowing if there’s even a slim chance you might feel the same.”
I sigh, taking a small step back, his hands falling away from me. When our gazes reconnect, there’s so much agony in them that I almost find myself buckling at my knees. “I do, but how I feel doesn’t matter, Jesse. There’s only one way that this ends.”
“But it doesn’t have to.” He closes the space that I created, grabbing my hands between his. “We can make it work if you want to.”
“I don’t see how we can,” I whisper, wishing more than anything that I could imagine a world where I wouldn’t have to walk away from him. “Your life is in Montana, mine is in California. We both travel so much for work?—”
