“Yeah,” Sawyer said, sounding as though he didn’t like the sex of his dog being questioned.
“Sorry,” she said with a chuckle. She reached out and stroked the animal’s soft fur.
“See, I told you, man. Chick magnet,” Sawyer said, looking over her shoulder at Braydon.
“Got it. Now you go find your own chick. This one’s mine.”
“Come on, buddy. Let’s go find something to make a sign with. High time we try to get some attention from the ladies. I’ve got a hunch that bringing you along to entice them might just draw in more women that way.”
Jessie chuckled at Sawyer’s statement, remembering the stories about how Sawyer liked to stand on the side of the road and entice women. But the attention she offered Sawyer didn’t last long, and that was because her brain finally processed what Braydon had said. As soon as the words replayed once in her head, Jessie stopped short and spun around to face Braydon. Her heart had begun a freakish tap dance in her chest at his admission, and she wanted to ask him to say it again, to assure her that what she was going to tell him was reciprocated. But before she got the chance, he took her hand again and pulled her along behind him until they were in the guest room and he was closing the door behind them.
Jessie turned to face Braydon but found that they were literally just inches away from one another. He was looking down at her when he cupped her face in his big hands, and lo and behold, she did the one thing she didn’t want to do.
She started to cry.
chapter TWENTY-SEVEN
“Oh, damn,” Braydon muttered when he noticed the first tear fall.
Jessie had her eyes closed when he reached up and brushed the first wet streak, then the second, away with his thumbs. “Don’t cry, Jess. Please don’t cry.”
“I can’t help it. I’m a mess,” she mumbled.
“A beautiful mess,” he replied, unable to help himself. At least it garnered a small smile from her.
When her eyes opened, he was lost for a moment in the glistening blue depths. There were so many things he wanted to say to her right then, so many ways he wanted to tell her that he loved her and that they could work this out, but he somehow managed to keep his mouth shut.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her eyes locked with his.
“About what?” he asked. It wasn’t that he wasn’t capable of filling in the blanks himself, but he really wanted Jessie to come forth and tell him. As Brendon had said, they’d spent so much time not talking, not opening up, that now was the time to do so. Jessie wasn’t the type of woman who would open up easily, and he’d learned from experience that if he started to talk, she would sit back and let him and then, before he knew it, he would’ve divulged all of his secrets and she would’ve kept all of hers inside.
There was no doubt that he wanted her. He wanted every piece of her. But he wasn’t going to make it easy for her. Wrapping her in his arms and telling her that everything would be okay was making it way too damn easy.
“I’m sorry for being a bitch. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions. I’m sorry for sending you away. I’m sorry for making you hate me. I’m sorry for—”
“Stop,” he ordered softly, placing his finger over her lips. “I appreciate you trying to take all of the blame here, but that isn’t how this works. You could’ve started and stopped with the jumping to conclusions piece.”
“But the rest of it is true,” she told him. “I’m crazy; you should know that by now. I’ve got so many crazies living inside of me, and unfortunately, they don’t bother to schedule with me when they’re gonna let loose.”
Braydon couldn’t help himself; he leaned down and pressed his lips to Jessie’s lightly. He didn’t let her move closer and he didn’t try to deepen the kiss, but he needed that little bit of physical contact with this woman.
When he pulled away, he continued to stare down at her. “Jess, I know you’re not perfect. Neither am I. But I don’t want us to be perfect. What kind of life would that be?”
“It wouldn’t be crazy,” she mumbled, glancing away.
Braydon tipped her chin, getting her attention. When she met his gaze again, he said, “It’d be boring as hell, is what it’d be. I’ll live with imperfect over boring any day.”
“I don’t want to be perfect.” Jessie’s gaze bore into his as she spoke. “I just want to be normal.”
“You are normal,” he replied.
“Yeah?” she asked, a hint of frustration inflected in her tone.