On the other hand, at least Beau had been nice to me. No sassy back talk from Beau Winston—only friendly smiles, honesty, and kindness—which was why I’d hero-worshipped him for so long.
But now…almost nothing. When Beau had found me in the dark and told me who he was, the first thing I felt was disappointment he wasn’t Duane. No music only I could hear. No reducing me to a blubbering, slurring Swahili speaker. Just disappointment.
How that was even possible after twelve years of obsessive behavior made me question my mental health. Likely, I should have been questioning it long before now.
I slowed my jog to a walk, guessing that the edge of the lake was nearby and cursing myself for not bringing a flashlight. The short run was good, but not enough. It had expelled merely a modicum of the restless energy coursing through my system, making me feel fried, dried, and crispy.
The problem was my brain was tearing in two because my feelings for Duane were not consensual.
Did I want to feel like a jealous, raging, seething she-witch when Duane had kissed my sexy bee cousin, who also just happened to be his ex-girlfriend, and a smokin’ hot stripper?
No. No, I did not. I didn’t want to feel this way. I wanted to feel nothing. But I didn’t feel nothing. I felt like he’d reached inside my chest, closed his fist around my heart, and was slowly squeezing it. I also felt like plucking the wings off Tina’s costume.
He’d kissed her. He’d kissed her just like he’d kissed me. Obviously Duane made a habit of kissing the hell out of women, all women. That’s probably why he was such a good kisser. Lots and lots of practice.
This was the thought circling around and around my brain. The image of them, of his mouth moving against hers, was branded in my vision, making my insides cold, and eclipsing my ability to reason.
My first instinct had been to march over to them and pull them apart by the nose. I’d seen my mother do this once to my cousins when they were fighting. She’d put her index finger in one nostril of each of their noses and tugged them apart. They’d never fought at our house again. All she had to do was wiggle her index fingers in the air. Tina would have known what it meant.
I slowed my pace further, not sure if the sensation beneath my feet was cold damp, or just cold. Three steps later I realized it was cold damp. I’d reached the edge of the lake. I turned, my hands out, and walked a few steps back to the last tree I’d passed and leaned against it, waiting for Duane to show up.
I heard his footfalls, not too far off now. His approach made my insides tense in a delicious and disquieting way. I balled my hands into fists and squeezed my eyes shut, giving myself a mental talking to. Despite the fact it was near forty degrees, I was not cold. In fact, my skin and my lungs and my belly felt like they were on fire. I guess anger, intense aggravation, and frenetic lust will do that to a person.
I needed time, I needed distance.
We’d just kissed less than five hours ago. I was being stupid. Feeling territorial about Duane Winston made no sense. I wasn’t in Green Valley for the long haul, I was here to pay off my student loans, gain teaching experience, and then move on and out and see the world.
One does not make life-altering decisions based on a single, solitary make-out session, especially when I’d been kissing Duane thinking he was Beau.
Maybe, I reasoned, Duane wasn’t a great kisser. Maybe I’d built the whole thing up because I’d been working under a mistaken identity misconception.
I told myself that these bizarre cravings would disappear just as quickly as they’d encroached upon my sanity. I told myself that tomorrow everything would be back to normal. Duane was irritating, challenging. Beau was nice. Even if my obsessive crush for Beau never resurfaced, my strange surge of feelings for Duane were likely fleeting.
I had a plan and my momma hadn’t raised me to be stupid. End of story.
“Jess…”
I stiffened at the whispered sound of my name and was surprised to find him so close. Standing straighter, I turned, offering him my profile. I must’ve been so lost in my head I didn’t hear his final approach.
“Hey,” I whispered back, then frowned, glancing at him. “Wait, why are we whispering?”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he walked slowly forward and reduced the space between us. I could tell by his outline that he was shirtless. This revelation elicited a barely contained moan because, dammit, I wanted to touch him again.
I turned completely just as he stopped two feet from my position.
He blurted, “Jess, can we…can I…?”
I listened as he abruptly paused then released a loud breath; he sounded frustrated. I couldn’t see his face so I had no idea what his intentions were or what he was thinking. I waited a beat for him to complete his thought. Five seconds turned into twenty, the quiet broken only by owls hooting in the distance, the wind through the trees, and the gentle lapping of the lake against the water’s edge.