Wild and Wilted.

Chapter Seven, It Lingers.

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CHAPTER SEVEN ╱ It Lingers.

               "You sleep alright?" My voice is soft against the harsh thundering of the rain. It pounded onto the tin roof, masking the noise of Asher playing quietly in his playroom. It was just a little after breakfast was served and eaten.

               My hip rested against the large island in the middle of the kitchen, facing the window while I looked out. In my peripheral stood Jesse in plaid pajama pants and a plain grey shirt. I wasn't used to seeing him so . . . domestic. After living with a man for three weeks, you'd assume I would've seen him like this sooner than this. But Jesse wasn't like every other man. He was put together, always up at dawn, and ready for a day's work.

               "Actually, yeah," He says with a hint of surprise. "I think my body is finally sick of my rotting brain." He explains, walking past me to the fridge. His forearms flex as they grab the pitcher of orange juice and a glass off the drying rack.

               I cock an eyebrow in his direction, "Guessing that's a good thing?"

               He poured a full glass of the freshly squeezed juice, gulping it down within seconds. Smacking his lips in satisfaction, he rests next to me. "I think that was the first night I actually slept through the night. Solidly."

               "I think my food might be starting to send you into a coma," I laugh, my eyes glancing back to the gloomy sky.

               "The opposite. I've never felt more alive," He jesters, a lazy smile forming on his lips. His shoulder leans to bump into mine. "I think you're the cure to my madness."

               I could feel the heat of my blood rise to my cheeks, blushing at his words. How does he make me feel like I'm sixteen all over again?

               "You really know how to make a girl blush," I chuckle, keeping my eyes on the sky. If I took one look at him, I'm afraid I'd start violently shaking.

               I heard him hum, "Well, not to make those apples on your cheeks even redder, this is the best damn orange juice I've ever had. Everything you make is magical, even with the oranges from my own citrus farm."

A snort leaves my mouth, "Okay, now you're just lying to me."

"I've never been as serious as I am right now," He says into my ear. "You're a gift from the gods."

I finally roll my head towards him, "Hasn't anyone ever told you flattery will get you nowhere?"

His eyebrow twitched, "Interesting, it's always worked for me."

"Well, I'm not like every other girl, Jesse."

"No, you're not," He said, causing my heart to skip a beat.

It was at that moment that I realized his face was mere inches from mine, our arms burning holes into each other's skin as our bodies faced the big window. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, thumping vigorously against my breastbone.

His piercing blue eyes lingered on me, glimmering a shade of wonder and something I couldn't quite grasp. And I'm sure if I let the curious girl leaping within me free, I'd find out just what makes his eyes turn that darker shade.

"I was going to help Asher build a fort in the living room. Would you like to help?" I ask, swallowing the lump that carried inside my throat—diminishing the tension that lay between us. He nods in response with a smile.

               I hoist myself up from my resting position, "And if the rain lets up later, I was going to take him to watch you guys wrangle the cattle before dark. He loves watching you."

I watch as his grin drives deeper onto his skin. "He always tells me he wants to be just like me."

               "Yup. A cowboy, just like you," I hum with a smile. "We watch you every day, and it's his favorite time."

               His eyes find me once again, arms crossed over his chest. His toned pectoral muscles squeezed beneath his arms, peaking in the thin shirt. "You watch me?"

               I nod, tucking the fat of my bottom lip between my teeth. "Yes."

               "I'll make sure to show off for him next time," He says before pushing himself off the island. "I'll meet you and Asher in the living room."

               He left me alone in the kitchen, his conversation lingering in my mind. The way he speaks his words sends chills down my spine. Every fragment seemed to have an ulterior meaning. Everything he does shakes me to my core.

               His arm intentionally rubbing against mine, the way his eyes linger onto my body a bit too long. To an outsider, it was an innocent exchange between two people. An employer and an employee. A friend to a friend. But to me, it felt so much more than that. And maybe I was treading some line of delusion, a girl desperate to be touched by a man—to be loved by working hands. Perhaps it was my sickening desire to heal a broken soul—to mend him through my love.

               And maybe it was my twisted fantasy of wanting everything Bethanne Sutton had because it was everything I didn't.

Even when I did have my heart on my sleeve with a boy, I thought he would treat me like the only girl in the world. I was sadly mistaken, and now I'm ogling my yearning eyes at the poor grieving man before me. Maybe I should stick to the boys my own age.

               I am sick. And it lingers.