shoulders, the one that says ‘may your lives be interesting.’” Barb leaned back as Sheryl delivered the food.
The smell of French fries and grease filled Taylor’s senses, and her stomach growled. “I haven’t had a burger in years. Usually, we order sandwiches for lunch, and then I have a salad for dinner when I get home. My folks are gone a lot—either for work or traveling—so, I’ve been on my own.”
Angie smiled. “You live at home then? I keep telling Jesse that it’s not unusual for an unmarried child to live with his parent. But he keeps telling me I need my own house when I’m in town. I’ve been looking at one of those condos over by the river.”
Taylor brightened. “Me, too. I thought, once the gallery gets settled in a year or two, I should be able to—” She cut off her thought, realizing that if Jesse continued with his plans to buy the gallery, her dream would be out of reach. If that happened, she’d have to dip into her trust fund or ask her parents for money to get her condo. Those were two things she didn’t want to do.
The table grew quiet as the impact of Taylor’s words hit the ladies. The women focused on their food, and all casual conversation stopped.
Great,
Taylor thought.
Way to alienate friends and influence people.
A man’s hand reached in and grabbed a couple of her fries. She slapped at it. “Hey!”
Jesse Sullivan slipped in to the booth next to her. Heat coursed through her body and pooled in the spot between her legs. Damn him and his crooked smile.
“Sorry, they just looked too inviting. Besides, you can’t eat fries, not with that body.” Jesse half stood, leaning over the table to give his mother a kiss on the cheek.
Sheryl returned to the table. “The usual, Jesse?”
“Sounds good. Make sure the hot wings are really hot this time.” Jesse took a swig of the draft beer Sheryl had brought without asking. Apparently, the man and his mother were regulars.
“Who invited you?” Barb asked, pointing a fry at the newcomer.
Jesse leaned back in the booth and smiled at his manager. “Now, Barbie, why are you being a brat? It’s not like I crashed your wedding, or something.”
“Boy, you’re always showing up at the wrong time.” Barb grinned. “Hunter’s still peeved at you crashing in my hotel room the night after our first wedding. Every time we leave for a rodeo, he checks to see if you have your own hotel reservation.”
“He’s just doing his due diligence as the doting husband. Besides, I know not to touch sold goods. I get beaten up enough on the bulls; no way I want some angry husband messing with this pretty face.” Jesse ran his hand over his chin.
“The face that didn’t get shaved this morning,” Angie observed.
Jesse leaned over to Taylor. “Now you understand why I sent these two over to the gallery this morning. If they’re all up in your business, maybe they’ll stay out of mine.”
“Jesse.” Angie shook her finger at her youngest son. “You stop being a brat.” She frowned at the plate of chicken wings Sheryl just sat down in front of him. “Lord, do those things smell.”
“Like heaven.” Jesse smiled and ripped into a wing. The smell of Tabasco hit Taylor, and she coughed.
“Wow.” She took a sip of her wine. “I’m not even eating them and I can taste the hot sauce.”
Grinning, Jesse waved a drumlet near her. “I know, aren’t they amazing?”
Angie laughed. “Better get used to it, Taylor. Now that you’re part of the gang, Jesse’s eating habits are one thing you just have to ignore.”
Taylor smiled, but deep down she wondered if she was really part of the gang. How had this family accepted her so quickly as a friend when she was working as hard as she could to get them out of her life?
“Relax, Mom. Maybe Taylor’s looking for the exit door instead of being brainwashed into our little cult.” Jesse wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “Mom, I mean, Angie, has this habit of moving
The smell of French fries and grease filled Taylor’s senses, and her stomach growled. “I haven’t had a burger in years. Usually, we order sandwiches for lunch, and then I have a salad for dinner when I get home. My folks are gone a lot—either for work or traveling—so, I’ve been on my own.”
Angie smiled. “You live at home then? I keep telling Jesse that it’s not unusual for an unmarried child to live with his parent. But he keeps telling me I need my own house when I’m in town. I’ve been looking at one of those condos over by the river.”
Taylor brightened. “Me, too. I thought, once the gallery gets settled in a year or two, I should be able to—” She cut off her thought, realizing that if Jesse continued with his plans to buy the gallery, her dream would be out of reach. If that happened, she’d have to dip into her trust fund or ask her parents for money to get her condo. Those were two things she didn’t want to do.
The table grew quiet as the impact of Taylor’s words hit the ladies. The women focused on their food, and all casual conversation stopped.
Great,
Taylor thought.
Way to alienate friends and influence people.
A man’s hand reached in and grabbed a couple of her fries. She slapped at it. “Hey!”
Jesse Sullivan slipped in to the booth next to her. Heat coursed through her body and pooled in the spot between her legs. Damn him and his crooked smile.
“Sorry, they just looked too inviting. Besides, you can’t eat fries, not with that body.” Jesse half stood, leaning over the table to give his mother a kiss on the cheek.
Sheryl returned to the table. “The usual, Jesse?”
“Sounds good. Make sure the hot wings are really hot this time.” Jesse took a swig of the draft beer Sheryl had brought without asking. Apparently, the man and his mother were regulars.
“Who invited you?” Barb asked, pointing a fry at the newcomer.
Jesse leaned back in the booth and smiled at his manager. “Now, Barbie, why are you being a brat? It’s not like I crashed your wedding, or something.”
“Boy, you’re always showing up at the wrong time.” Barb grinned. “Hunter’s still peeved at you crashing in my hotel room the night after our first wedding. Every time we leave for a rodeo, he checks to see if you have your own hotel reservation.”
“He’s just doing his due diligence as the doting husband. Besides, I know not to touch sold goods. I get beaten up enough on the bulls; no way I want some angry husband messing with this pretty face.” Jesse ran his hand over his chin.
“The face that didn’t get shaved this morning,” Angie observed.
Jesse leaned over to Taylor. “Now you understand why I sent these two over to the gallery this morning. If they’re all up in your business, maybe they’ll stay out of mine.”
“Jesse.” Angie shook her finger at her youngest son. “You stop being a brat.” She frowned at the plate of chicken wings Sheryl just sat down in front of him. “Lord, do those things smell.”
“Like heaven.” Jesse smiled and ripped into a wing. The smell of Tabasco hit Taylor, and she coughed.
“Wow.” She took a sip of her wine. “I’m not even eating them and I can taste the hot sauce.”
Grinning, Jesse waved a drumlet near her. “I know, aren’t they amazing?”
Angie laughed. “Better get used to it, Taylor. Now that you’re part of the gang, Jesse’s eating habits are one thing you just have to ignore.”
Taylor smiled, but deep down she wondered if she was really part of the gang. How had this family accepted her so quickly as a friend when she was working as hard as she could to get them out of her life?
“Relax, Mom. Maybe Taylor’s looking for the exit door instead of being brainwashed into our little cult.” Jesse wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “Mom, I mean, Angie, has this habit of moving
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