Lost and Found (15 page)

“Just some asshole thing . . .” I started. “About me being a freak. Or dressing like one. I don’t really know. Or care.” I lied. I usually didn’t care about the constant name-calling, but when it came to Garth—a guy I thought liked me—the names cut me more than usual.

“I’m going to tell you something, Rowen, and I want you to really hear me out. Okay?” Damn. Her hands were almost shaking over the steering wheel. “Don’t let a guy like Garth Black ruin your summer. And don’t let him ruin your life. Guys like that, people past the point of saving, have only one goal—to take as many others down with them as they can. And they’re good at it.”

I certainly hadn’t expected to get a sermon from Josie on the evil ways of Garth Black when I’d jumped into her truck, but I was kinda digging it.

“Okay, Rowen? Steer clear of Garth, and if he gives you a hard time, let Jesse know. He’ll take care of it.” She looked over at me and lifted her eyebrows. She was obviously waiting for a response.

“O. Kay,” I said dramatically, giving her a salute. After what he’s said, I’d dodge Garth as much as Willow Springs would allow. Speaking of Willow Springs . . .

We pulled into the driveway. The house was dark except for the porch lights and that lone lamp shining in the window. We’d beat the Walkers home, so all I had to do was rush upstairs and lock myself in my room before they got back. I wasn’t in the mood to recap the night, and I really wasn’t in the mood to see Jesse.

“Thanks again for the ride, Josie,” I said before leaping out of the truck.

“Anytime.” She inspected the Walkers’ house. When her eyes drifted up to my second floor bedroom window, her expression fell. I only hoped it wasn’t because she was clairvoyant and knew I’d checked her guy out from that window. “If I don’t see you before, I expect to see you at that dance or else I’ll come and drag you there.”

It was a full week away. An eternity. So I shrugged and said, “I’ll make sure to wear my non-freak wear.”

“Wear whatever the hell you want,” she replied.

Flashing her a wave, I closed the door and headed up the porch. The girl reversed out of the driveway as fast as she drove forward down it.

Once I was inside, I was up the stairs and in my room as fast as my booted and blistered feet could carry me. It was late, I was tired, and all I wanted to do was get into bed and put the day in the delete folder. But first, I needed pajamas.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t listened to Rose when she’d reminded me to bring my laundry down. In the midst of the sunrise-to-sunset work, doing one more chore at the end of the day just hadn’t been a priority. As I pawed through my drawers, unable to find one article of clothing that could work as sleepwear, I realized I should have made personal laundry duty a priority.

Live and learn.

Desperate, I slid open the bottom drawer. I knew it would be empty—the top drawers had enough space to hold my clothes—but I had to check.

And the heavens opened and rained down pajama shirts.

It wasn’t mine, but one folded white undershirt was in the back corner of the drawer. I pulled it out and gave it a whiff. It was fresh.

I lifted it and let it unfold in front of me. Clean, too.

My pajama dilemma was solved.

Sliding out of my freak-wear, according to Garth Black, I slipped into the white tee. It went down to my knees, and I was pretty sure I could fit two more Rowens inside of it, but I wasn’t complaining.

I couldn’t crawl into bed fast enough, and after a couple of minutes, I was out.

I FELL ASLEEP fast no problem. The
staying
asleep, not so much. I didn’t know what time it was, but it was still dark and the house was quiet. Sneaking a peek at my phone, I saw it was just past midnight. I’d barely slept for two whole hours, and from the way I felt, I doubted I could fall asleep again anytime soon.

I threw the covers off and headed for the window. Maybe the crickets would lull me back to sleep.

A rush of cool air burst inside my room, instantly filling it with the scent of grass and the sound of those crickets. I stood at the window and breathed in a few slow breaths. The Walkers’ Suburban was in its usual spot, and from the looks of the bunkhouse, everyone was asleep. Except for me.

I crawled back into bed, closed my eyes, and tried to fall back asleep.
Try
being the operative word. I was about two minutes into failing to sleep when strange, creaking sounds started outside my window. Not even a second later, something crawled inside said window.

Well,
someone
crawled inside.

Instead of screaming bloody murder, I rolled across the bed, grabbed one of my boots, and took aim. The boot circled through the air and couldn’t have landed in a better spot: right in the side of the person’s face.

The dark shadow huffed in surprise, or maybe pain, and rose to a full stand. I’d picked a Goliath-sized monster to pick a fight with. Not my finest moment.

I was just readying those vocal chords for what I should have done instead of reaching for my boot when the figure came closer.

“Good aim.” The voice was so familiar I didn’t need a light to identify who stood in my room. But I still switched the bedside lamp on.

“Jesse!” I managed to shriek quietly since three sleeping girls were close by. “What the hell?”

“Quick question,” he said, lifting his finger while he rubbed the spot where I’d clocked him with his other hand.

“What?” I said, wondering what in the world Jesse Walker was doing in my room after midnight.

“Are you planning on throwing anything else at me?”

“Not as long as you don’t scare the living shit out of me again,” I said, finally calm enough to give him more than a quick look.

My eyes almost popped out of my head.

He was in his pajamas, too: a pair of navy blue sweats cut off at the knees, along with . . . absolutely nothing else. No shirt, no shoes, no hat. It was the least cowboy-fied I’d ever seen Jesse, and even though he was sexy six ways to Sunday in his cowboy gear, this look was hard to beat.

Probably had something to do with all of the tanned, muscled flesh on display.

“Rowen? Is something wrong?” He sounded like he was about to start snapping his fingers in front of my face. “Because your eyes are doing something kind of crazy right now.”

That’s because you’re practically naked and were descended from gods.

I almost had to slap my face to clear my dazed expression. “Other than you leaping into my room in the middle of the night? No, nothing’s wrong.” I had to look away or I was sure my eyes would go crossed. My eyes landed on the window. “And how in the hell did you get in here?” I rushed to the window. Yep, just how I’d remembered its location before Superman soared in: two stories up,
straight
up. No roofline, trellis, or ladder to climb. Nothing other than siding. So if he didn’t have Superman DNA, it was Spiderman DNA.

Jesse appeared beside me and stuck his head out the window with me. His shoulder rubbed against mine. The innocent graze practically undid me. “You’re looking in the wrong direction,” he said, tilting his head up. I did the same.

All I saw was the outline of the roof and another window set right below where the roofline came together. I’d never noticed it before. It was a bit smaller than my window, but a light shone from it, too. Jesse Walker had been sleeping ten feet above me the whole time.

“Holy shit.”

“You guessed how I did it yet?” he asked eagerly. Thankfully, he’d guessed my shock had to do with how he’d gotten from point A to point my B.edroom. I suppose I was still in some shock about that whole feat, but most of it was focused on the fact he’d been right above my sleeping head the whole time.

“I’m guessing it had something to do with lunacy,” I replied. I really had no logical explanation for how he’d scaled down almost ten feet without the aid of a rope or a ladder or pixie dust.

Jesse nudged me with that arm I was ever so aware of running down the length of mine. “Maybe a little bit of lunacy, but a whole lot of skill, too. But, come on. Aren’t you at least going to make a guess as to how I did it?”

I opened my mouth.

“Something
not
having to do with lunacy, maybe?” he interjected.

Okay, I could do this. Pushing all lunacy, superhero DNA, and miracles aside, I tried to put it together. Jesse’s window to my window. Nothing but a whole lot of white cedar siding and one cobblestone chimney a couple feet to the side . . .

“Oh, dear God.” I felt my stomach drop as I scanned the chimney. It ran from the ground up past the rooftop. Right by my window, right by Jesse’s. “Please tell me you didn’t—”

“Climb down the side of the chimney?” He studied the chimney with me and grinned. “Yeah. I did.”

If he lost a foot or hand hold, he would have fallen a good twenty feet. There weren’t any sharp projectiles or concrete landings below, but still. Best case scenario was some broken bones and internal bleeding. Worst case was a one way ticket to the hereafter.

“And the bull riders are supposed to have some kind of death wish?”

Jesse chuckled. “I’ve done it dozens of times, and the nice thing about the chimney is that it’s predictable. You don’t have to wonder which way it’s going to spin, or how high it’s going to buck.”

“Ha. Ha,” I said humorlessly. I saw very little humor in the situation. Sure, Jesse was standing beside me, talking to me, rubbing his fine, next-to-naked body against mine, but if he needed to see me so badly, why didn’t he just come through my door?

“Why in the world did you do that?” I couldn’t stare out the window any longer. In fact, I’d never stare out of it the same way again.

“Because I needed to talk to you, and I didn’t get to finish what I needed to say tonight,” he said, ducking back into the room. “I’ve been trying to talk to you all darn week, but you’ve been dodging me like a calf on branding day.”

I pursed my lips to keep from laughing. He was being serious, and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but really? Like a calf on branding day? I’d most certainly never heard that before and doubted I ever would again outside of Willow Springs.

“This whole week, your window’s been closed, so when I heard it finally open, I decided to make my move. Because, Rowen, I need to talk to you whether you want to talk back or not. I need to explain a couple of things. I might have gone about this the wrong way by bursting through your window at night, but you didn’t really leave me another choice.”

I kept pursing my lips together. Jesse all flustered and rambling was adorable and appealing on so many levels, but he’d misunderstood my question.

“Not
Why?
as in why did you need to see me so badly, but
Why?
as in why didn’t you just knock on my door?” I plopped down on the edge of my bed and tried really hard to keep my eyes on his. When his hands moved to his hips, that feat became next to impossible.

“Because you wouldn’t have answered and because I didn’t want to worry about waking my sisters. And because I didn’t want to worry about answering their questions as to what I was doing knocking on your door at night. And because I could climb that chimney blindfolded. And because I was really hoping to impress you with my mad chimney climbing skills.” Jesse’s dimples emerged. My throat went dry. “So, are you impressed?”

Men and their need to impress. Looking from him to the window, back to him, I said, “Consider me sufficiently impressed.”

His dimples drilled a little deeper with his smile. “I’d say my work here is done, except it’s really only started.” The skin between his eyebrows came together as he studied my big nightshirt.

Two and two came together right as his face ironed out. “Nice shirt,” he said, looking a little smug.

“At least I’m wearing one,” I said, giving him the briefest once-over I could manage.

“I was out of fresh shirts,” he said, lifting his shoulders. “You’re lucky I wasn’t out of fresh shorts.”

Yeah, that burn in my throat? It was from the flames erupting in my stomach.

“No, you’re lucky,” I said. “I’ve heard cobblestone chaffing is really uncomfortable.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he said, followed by a chuckle. “But, really. Next time you want to borrow one of my shirts, all you have to do is ask me. You don’t have to steal it when I’m not looking.”

I could tell from his face he was teasing, but I wasn’t in a teasing mood. “I didn’t steal it. It was in one of the drawers in my dresser. The–”

“Bottom one,” Jesse finished my thought.

My suspicion that Jesse was clairvoyant seemed more and more likely. “How did you know that?”

“Because that’s where I kept them.” He shrugged and crossed his arms. I loved when he crossed his arms. I loved it even more when he was shirtless. “I must have left one behind.”

“Left one behind? Are you in the habit of leaving your things in random dresser drawers throughout the house?”

“Nope, but I try to make it a habit to leave my things in
my
dresser drawers.”

“
Your
dresser drawer?” I repeated slowly, grabbing the comforter to cover my legs. The shirt had seemed large before, but having Jesse look at me that way made me feel all kinds of exposed.

“Well, yeah.” He spread his arms and did a spin. “This is my room.”

“Come again?” I knew I hadn’t heard him wrong, but I wished I had.

“This has been my room from day one. My dresser, my nightstand,”—his smile curved higher on one side as he examined the space around me—“my bed. And my blankets.” He took a few steps toward
his
bed and
his
blankets, and I felt like a thousand butterflies had been set loose in my stomach from the way he looked at me.

“Why did you move out?” I asked.

“Because you were coming,” he replied matter-of-factly. “I know from growing up with three sisters that a girl’s bedroom needs to be within arm’s reach of a bathroom, and this room stays a heck of a lot cooler than the attic in the summertime.”

I finally understood why I couldn’t escape Jesse’s scent or presence even when I was locked in my bedroom. I’d been sleeping on the same mattress he had. I’d been snuggled beneath the same old quilt he had. We’d shared a bed the whole time without even touching each other.