the hot water punish him. His body viewed that as a logical extension of the conversation he’d just almost been having about sex, and that was impossible. There would be no such extensions.
Jesse didn’t poach. Ever. He was religious about it.
There were millions of women out there without men—no need to tangle himself up, even momentarily, with one who was taken. Even if the man in question was Terrence Polk, who was wholly unworthy of the term “man.” And especially when the woman claimed her existing relationship was “open”—because if there was one thing Jesse knew about relationships, it was that they were always more complicated than they appeared, even to the people inside them.
He’d found that out the hard way, hadn’t he?
Years had gone by, and he still didn’t know who he was more pissed at: his loser father for doing what he always did, or Angelique, his once-upon-a-time girlfriend, for letting Billy do it to her. He didn’t care that they were married now, with little twin girls he’d never met. He didn’t care how many of his relatives assured him Billy was a changed man, that Angelique and the girls had proved to be a good influence on him—the good influence his previous two wives, three grown children, and innumerable mistresses had failed to provide, apparently.
“Your father feels awful about the whole thing,” his cousin Luce had told him as they conducted their Grey Family Pity Party in the corner of the saloon his first night in Marietta, before she’d succumbed to the urge to sing along, far too loudly and pointedly, to angsty Miranda Lambert break up songs on the jukebox. Which was when Jesse had decided to bunk down in his uncle’s office, because he had no desire to live out any more country songs. “Or so I hear.”
Jesse had shrugged. Barely. “Good.”
“Popular family opinion is that you’re turning into Uncle Jason,” Luce had continued, smirking. “I hope that doesn’t mean you end up slinging drinks to beat up cowboys, never to smile again, Jesse. That would be a waste. Besides, I think Reese Kendrick has the Being Jason’s Sparkly Apprentice thing covered.”
Jesse hadn’t spared a glance for Reese there behind the bar, who nobody would dare call “sparkly” to his face. Not if they wanted to keep their own in one piece. The slightly older man was probably more of a favored child to Jason than any of his uncle’s long absent and possibly estranged daughters were, at this point. And Jesse had been well aware Luce had been poking at him to avoid talking about her own bad romantic choices, in the time-honored fashion of every single member of his family since the dawn of time. Still.
“Here’s the thing,” he’d said, and he hadn’t bothered to ratchet back the threat in his voice or the look he knew was probably all over his face. Luce was family. She could take it. “I brought my girlfriend home for Christmas three years ago and when I left on New Year’s Day, she was hooking up with my father. I’m thrilled they’ve carved out some kind of happily ever after from such an auspicious beginning. I salute them, I do. But no amount of secondhand reporting about how sad they are is going to change the sordid little facts, is it?”
“Your heart is a stone, Jesse,” Luce had said, grinning. “We’ll be spinsters together forever. Doesn’t that sound fantastic?”
Jesse had rolled his eyes. “I’d rather prop up the bar in this tiny little town. With my face.”
But that was the thing, he thought now, using up all the hot water in the middle of a blizzard, somewhere in Montana. Being sorry about things was great, but it didn’t change anything. It certainly didn’t fix anything. And if people couldn’t handle the consequences of their choices, well, maybe they should have made better ones.
“Not my problem,” he muttered as he wrenched off the faucets and reached for one of the thin, scratchy towels over the toilet. He exfoliated
Jesse didn’t poach. Ever. He was religious about it.
There were millions of women out there without men—no need to tangle himself up, even momentarily, with one who was taken. Even if the man in question was Terrence Polk, who was wholly unworthy of the term “man.” And especially when the woman claimed her existing relationship was “open”—because if there was one thing Jesse knew about relationships, it was that they were always more complicated than they appeared, even to the people inside them.
He’d found that out the hard way, hadn’t he?
Years had gone by, and he still didn’t know who he was more pissed at: his loser father for doing what he always did, or Angelique, his once-upon-a-time girlfriend, for letting Billy do it to her. He didn’t care that they were married now, with little twin girls he’d never met. He didn’t care how many of his relatives assured him Billy was a changed man, that Angelique and the girls had proved to be a good influence on him—the good influence his previous two wives, three grown children, and innumerable mistresses had failed to provide, apparently.
“Your father feels awful about the whole thing,” his cousin Luce had told him as they conducted their Grey Family Pity Party in the corner of the saloon his first night in Marietta, before she’d succumbed to the urge to sing along, far too loudly and pointedly, to angsty Miranda Lambert break up songs on the jukebox. Which was when Jesse had decided to bunk down in his uncle’s office, because he had no desire to live out any more country songs. “Or so I hear.”
Jesse had shrugged. Barely. “Good.”
“Popular family opinion is that you’re turning into Uncle Jason,” Luce had continued, smirking. “I hope that doesn’t mean you end up slinging drinks to beat up cowboys, never to smile again, Jesse. That would be a waste. Besides, I think Reese Kendrick has the Being Jason’s Sparkly Apprentice thing covered.”
Jesse hadn’t spared a glance for Reese there behind the bar, who nobody would dare call “sparkly” to his face. Not if they wanted to keep their own in one piece. The slightly older man was probably more of a favored child to Jason than any of his uncle’s long absent and possibly estranged daughters were, at this point. And Jesse had been well aware Luce had been poking at him to avoid talking about her own bad romantic choices, in the time-honored fashion of every single member of his family since the dawn of time. Still.
“Here’s the thing,” he’d said, and he hadn’t bothered to ratchet back the threat in his voice or the look he knew was probably all over his face. Luce was family. She could take it. “I brought my girlfriend home for Christmas three years ago and when I left on New Year’s Day, she was hooking up with my father. I’m thrilled they’ve carved out some kind of happily ever after from such an auspicious beginning. I salute them, I do. But no amount of secondhand reporting about how sad they are is going to change the sordid little facts, is it?”
“Your heart is a stone, Jesse,” Luce had said, grinning. “We’ll be spinsters together forever. Doesn’t that sound fantastic?”
Jesse had rolled his eyes. “I’d rather prop up the bar in this tiny little town. With my face.”
But that was the thing, he thought now, using up all the hot water in the middle of a blizzard, somewhere in Montana. Being sorry about things was great, but it didn’t change anything. It certainly didn’t fix anything. And if people couldn’t handle the consequences of their choices, well, maybe they should have made better ones.
“Not my problem,” he muttered as he wrenched off the faucets and reached for one of the thin, scratchy towels over the toilet. He exfoliated