“What happened to your shirt, Cletus? And who is that with you? Are y’all making out? Did I interrupt?” The laughter in Jessica’s voice helped to ease my mortification.
Her light shone directly on him, dimly illuminating his body in high relief, and my gaze dropped to his naked torso. I felt my eyes widen, marking my surprise but also my appreciation.
I couldn’t help myself. I stared at him.
I don’t know what I thought he would look like without a shirt on, but the reality of his bare chest, arms, and abdomen affected me like another glass of champagne. He was . . . well, he was beautiful. I wanted to touch him again, and this time I wanted to do it in a well-lit room.
And I want him to lie perfectly still while I kiss and lick and touch and bite and do whatever I want to his gorgeous body.
“What’s wrong?”
The irritated edge to his words yanked me back to the present and I blinked at him, startled.
“Nothing is wrong,” I said too quickly.
Jess tapped impatiently on the glass of his window. “Come on, Cletus. Put the condom down and let me meet your lady friend.”
His gaze flickered to mine, then away, his expression grumpy but otherwise unreadable. “You’re going to pay for that, Jess.”
She laughed, the flashlight swinging away from the window. Actually, she cackled.
Cletus zipped his jacket to his neck and moved as though to exit. Remembering that I had on the wrong top, I reached for his hand.
“Wait. I’m wearing your shirt.”
“I know,” Cletus said, not looking me as he popped open the driver’s side door. “I wanted to see what you’d look like wearing it.”
“So . . .” Jessica was beaming. Her big brown eyes bounced between Cletus and me. “Good to see you, Jennifer,” she gushed. Again.
She’d brought us to her cabin—or Duane’s cabin, I didn’t quite know—and Cletus sat on one of the chairs adjacent to a small table. She asked us to remove our shoes, so we did, placing my heels and Cletus’s boots by the front door.
I sat on the second chair, the table between us, and tried not to twist my fingers while I stared at the dichotomy of our shoes: my high heels and his muddy work boots. For some reason the image of them together sent a thrill through me.
Meanwhile, Jess was sitting on the bed. The cabin was one room and quite small. Just the aforementioned table, two chairs, a bed, and a fireplace. It was cozy and meant for two. I liked it.
“Thank you. And thank you for your help.” I returned her big smile.
“Has Duane called?” Cletus—who wore his red and black-checkered jacket zipped over his bare chest—glanced at his phone. “He should have called by now.”
“He texted me before I left to find you. He made it to the station.”
Cletus nodded once, slipping his phone into the pocket of his jacket. “Good. That’s good.”
“Do you want to tell me what happened? Why were those bikers chasing you?” Jessica’s gaze bounced between us.
“They were upset I switched their tampons with Depends.” Cletus sounded so serious and reasonable, I almost believed him. And I’d been there.
“Cletus.” I shook my head and wrinkled my nose at him, then turned to Jessica. “My brother was there and he—” I swallowed, the words catching in my throat, so I cleared it. “He was being unpleasant. Cletus appeared and things escalated.”
“I punched him in the face,” he explained, his tone pragmatic like he’d just admitted to clipping his toenails. “Also, Tina says hi.”
Jessica’s mouth dropped open and her eyebrows lifted high on her forehead. “You punched Isaac?”
“I did.” Cletus nodded. “In the face. And Tina says hi.”
“Cletus, I don’t care about Tina,” Jess sputtered for a moment, blinking and frowning. Her gaze moved to me and softened with concern. “I guess Isaac must’ve been saying some real ugly things?”
“He did.” Cletus’s jaw ticked, his eyes narrowing just briefly. “But he won’t be saying much of anything for a bit. I think I broke his jaw.”
“Oh my God.” Jess covered her mouth and addressed her next question to me. “Are you okay? That couldn’t have been easy to see.”
“I’m okay. Just a little,” emotionally exhausted, “tired.”
She gave me a sympathetic nod and sighed. “Well, if y’all want to stay here, feel free.” Jessica stood and reached for her coat on the end of the bed. “The sheets are clean and there’s plenty of firewood.”
Heat crawled up my neck. My cheeks flared at her words. I couldn’t decide if her assumption—that Cletus and I were sleeping together—inspired embarrassment or pleasure. Either way, I felt hot, oddly delighted, and agitated.
Cletus stood and I stood in unison. Jess turned to us with a small smile.
“I’m glad you’re okay and I’m glad you called Duane.” She gave him a tight hug. “Sorry for giving you a hard time.”
“You’re not sorry.” He lifted an eyebrow at her as she pulled away.
“You’re right. I’m not.” Jessica shrugged, grinning.
“Hmm. Well, regardless, thanks for letting me borrow Duane’s driving skills.”
“You know he loves to help.” Jessica turned to me. “I’m sorry about your brother saying nasty things, but I’m glad Cletus was there to break his jaw.”
A small burst of laughter tumbled from my lips. I didn’t know how to feel about Isaac or his broken jaw. The things he’d said . . .
Her eyes moved over me, then she tsked and gathered me into a snug hug. “Let me know when y’all are ready for Big Todd’s. Duane and I don’t mind going back, whenever.”
My expression was both a smile of gratefulness and a frown of confusion as she pulled away. “What’s Big Todd’s?”
Her gaze jumped to Cletus then to mine, her eyes wider than before and her voice an octave higher. “Uh, it’s a shop. And, when you’re ready to go, just give me a call. Cletus has my number.” She tossed her thumb over her shoulder and walked backward to the door. “I have to get out of here now, before I’m late for the thing.”
With that Jessica turned and fled, shutting the door firmly behind her, and leaving us alone.
Completely and utterly alone.
. . . yep.
After a full minute, I slid my eyes to the side and up to his profile. He was staring at the door with a thoughtful frown, and his gaze appeared to be unfocused. My attention dropped to his neck, where his jacket met his bare skin. I licked my lips. Now I knew what his skin tasted like.
The evening had been a turbulent ride of emotion and crazy. I was tired, but I was also wired. And sad, because of Isaac. And elated, because of what had happened in the car with Cletus. But then, sad again, because . . . what did it mean?
I thought about the words he’d said to Billy at the restaurant in Nashville, while everyone was pretending not to listen. If it’s an empty, physical attraction, then there was no point in persuing a relationship with the person. Paired with his comment in the car moments ago, about living in the fantasy, my heart hurt at the possibility that Cletus didn’t much like me.
He liked the way I looked, the thrilling grope-fest moments ago had made that fact abundantly clear; but how he felt—or didn’t feel—about me as a person remained a mystery.
Well, that wasn’t strictly true. His words at the Piggly Wiggly were still on my mind, but I hadn’t had the time to process them. Do you honestly think God would make a creature as lovely and talented and good as your sister, and then make the way she looks something sinful? Something to be ashamed of? No. He wouldn’t. If anything, your sister—her face, her body, her mind, and her heart—give glory to Him. And she shouldn’t be hidden. You don’t hide something that remarkable away from the world, like your parents have done, like you want to do. That’s the true sin.
Yet even though he’d said those lovely words in my defense, I wasn’t what he wanted. He’d made that abundantly clear.
Instinct and experience had me preparing my heart for rejection. But then a flare of anger surged and sent a spike of determination down my spine. I straightened, standing as tall as I could, and crossed my arms. I angled my chin, resolve chasing my fear away. I wasn’t going to twist myself into knots, try to be something I wasn’t. I wasn’t crying over him or anyone else.
I am who I am. I am who I’m becoming.
“I’d like to go home now,” I announced to the room.
Cletus flinched just slightly, as though I’d startled him. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, and then turned to me. He didn’t touch me, just moved his eyes over my face as though it might’ve changed in the last hour.
“Jennifer,” he started, stopped, pressed his lips together, frowned, swallowed, then began again. “We need to talk.”
“Fine. Talk.”
He gathered a large breath and adopted his thoughtful frown, it was the face he used when delivering bad news. “Here are the facts: you and I aren’t suited, but I—”
“Fine. I’d like to go home now.” I lifted my chin higher, calm detachment permeating every syllable. My heart hardened further, growing cold in my chest. If he didn’t like me for who I was, then . . . he can keep his bull, because the cow just died.