Near and Far Read online

  “You’d have to check with Jax on that.” I pointed at Jax, schmoozing it up with some richie-riches, decked out in his standard Jax attire. The guy dressed like he was an honorary member of the Rat Pack. He lifted his champagne glass when he noticed me. “He said there are several interested buyers, so he’s taking bids. Or something like that.”

  Truthfully, it was beyond me. When I’d painted that picture, I’d never intended it for anyone else’s eyes but mine and Jesse’s. The painting was more therapy, a healing journal entry, than a piece to be displayed and sold off to the highest bidder. When Jax and I were searching the art rooms in a crazed state earlier, praying we’d unveil some extra pieces I could display, he’d found it stuffed into the back of my storage area in the oil studio. He said it was brilliant and would have none of my pleas that it not be on display.

  Jax always seemed to get his way. Or maybe I just never did. Whatever it was, the painting I’d wanted to stay hidden was the highlight of the night.

  The woman grabbed her husband’s arm and nearly bolted in Jax’s direction.

  I loved art. I loved studying it, pondering it, and creating it. I didn’t, however, enjoy selling it. Or rubbing elbows with a bunch of people who’d spent more on their shoes than some families lived off of all year. It was part of the deal, though. Wealthy people didn’t want to buy just a canvas; they wanted a story to go with it. They wanted to meet, shake the hand, and share the story with the artist behind the canvas. They wanted a story to tell the rest of their country club friends when they came over and coveted the canvas hanging on their wall.

  Once Mr. and Mrs. Eager had scrambled over to Jax, I grabbed my phone and checked it. I didn’t know what I was expecting—there never had been or probably never would be any reception in that place—but that didn’t stop me from checking it for the four dozenth time in the past few hours.

  No signal. Big surprise.

  I blew out a frustrated breath and tried not to let my thoughts run away with me. The ones that suggested something had happened to him. That the brakes in Alex’s piece of crap car had gone out and they’d runaway down the streets of Seattle until the car sped into the dark water of the Sound. Or that Alex had taken a wrong turn, confused another old warehouse with the Underground, wandered inside, and been jumped by a gang of street kids.

  My mind was a runaway worry train. Loving someone as much as I did Jesse meant the darkness of the world seemed so black I never wanted to walk out the front door. Around every corner was some terror threatening to take away what I held most dear. I knew it probably shouldn’t be that way, but the world had become scarier since I’d let love back into my life. Scary because of the fear of loss. Of losing him. Of waking up to discover the one light shining bright in the dark night had been extinguished.

  “Where are you, Jesse?” I whispered, chewing on my lip as I bit back the worst case scenario thoughts leaping to mind.

  Then I felt him. Like he’d answered my question without using words. Jesse was close by, and everything inside of me heaved a sigh of relief. Scanning the room, I saw he wasn’t there, which meant . . . My gaze shifted toward the entrance. The sheer red curtains were drawn closed, and I saw the shapes of two men standing behind them. One was the size of a damn tractor and the other was . . . a very familiar shape.

  I rushed toward the entrance, avoiding eye contact with everyone I passed. I could not, I would not, answer any more questions about inspiration, where I saw my career in five years, or if I’d be interested in doing a nude of their wives. I burst through the curtains, trying to go slow since I was wearing heels. Heels and I weren’t exactly copacetic. I should have gone slower.

  I somehow managed to catch my toe on the floor, perform a clumsy spin, and was about to crash land face first when a lithe and strong pair of arms caught me. Those arms, or more like the owner behind them, had saved me from so many falls I’d lost count.

  “You know I love it when you go and fall into my arms.” Jesse righted me but kept me close. “It really feeds that hero complex I try to repress.” He grinned the one that had made my stomach drop the first day we’d met. Almost one year later, my stomach did the same damn thing.

  “And I kind of like it when you’re around to catch me from falling. Because, don’t tell, it really feeds that distressed damsel complex I try so hard to repress.”

  “Our secrets and our repressed complexes are safe with each other.”

  I was going in to tap the rim of his hat when I stopped short. There was no hat. Lowering my hand to his hair, I ran my fingers through it. Did Jesse have product in his hair? I would have bet my left kidney Jesse didn’t have a clue what product was. When my eyes went lower to find him in a long-sleeved henley with the couple top buttons undone, I wasn’t sure who’d walked into an alternate reality: me or Jesse.

  “What happened to you?” I ran my hands around to his back. They moved lower, and when I felt loose material around his backside, my eyes widened.

  “Alex got a hold of me.” Jesse shook his head then jolted when I slapped his butt. It didn’t make the same sound, and it certainly didn’t feel the same. When it came to Jesse Walker, it was tight jeans or no jeans.

  “Alex,” I said, followed by a sigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone with her.”

  “No worries. It was an adventure, for sure, and I learned at least a dozen new phrases and words related to the acts leading up to, the parts involved, or the actual making of sex.”

  “Oh, God,” I groaned. Jesse wasn’t a prude, no where near it, but he was . . . wholesome. That was a rare trait and something to be protected. Spending an hour with Alex Diaz could obliterate that. “Next time, I promise I won’t leave you behind with her. Wait. What am I saying? There won’t be a next time. This whole night was one giant, unexpected surprise.”

  That was the first time I’d had a few minutes to take a deep breath and let the last twelve hours catch up with me. Jax and I had pulled it off, barely, but sliding into the artist-of-the-month spot at the Underground as a college freshman wasn’t the kind of thing that saw an encore.

  “It looks like things are going great in there. I couldn’t count how many people who stopped and stared at one of your pieces for five, ten, fifteen minutes at a time. One guy looked at one for so long, I started to wonder if he’d turned into a statue.” Jesse looked at me with proud eyes. Genuine pride. I’d convinced myself for years that I didn’t need anyone’s approval or pride, but that wasn’t the truth. I did care about those things, especially when they came from someone I loved and admired.

  “It’s been a good night,” I replied, experiencing such an intense urge to kiss him I couldn’t ignore it. So I didn’t. Lifting up onto my tiptoes, I pressed my mouth to his until I felt it: the instant my whole body melted into him and I could no longer tell what part was Jesse and what part was me. I wasn’t losing myself to him; I was finding myself in him. “And now it’s a great night.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Jesse hummed, smiling with his eyes still closed.

  The bouncer shifted behind Jesse, reminding me of where we were, or rather, what side of the curtains we were on. “What are you doing out here?” I asked Jesse.

  Jesse rubbed the back of his neck and looked to be searching for the right words. “Um . . . I wasn’t exactly on the V.I.P. list.”

  “What?!” I made a face as I let out a mini shriek. “You’re the only person I actually want to see, and they didn’t put you on the V.I.P. list? Are you kidding me?”

  Jesse still looked like he was trying to choose his words carefully. “No?”

  The anger I felt had nothing to do with him and everything to do with whoever’s fault it was that Jesse’s name hadn’t been put on that list. “Why didn’t you tell someone?”

  Jesse indicated at the monster-sized bouncer. “I tried telling Kong, but I don’t think he speaks. He just throws down the pain.”

  I sent a glare “Kong’s” way, grabbed Jesse’s arm, and marched thro
ugh the curtains. When Kong stepped forward, I gave him a do-it-I-dare-you look. The only thing he did was step back and look away.

  “God, Jesse, I’m so sorry. How long have you been waiting out there?”

  He lifted a shoulder as he scanned the pictures. “Not long.”

  “Can not long be quantified?”

  His gaze locked on one picture before guiding us toward it. I’d seen a lot of that picture already. “I don’t know. An hour? Maybe two? It wasn’t that long.”

  “An hour? Or two?” I was back to a mini shriek. “Why didn’t you just bust through and come find me?”

  Jesse stopped in front of the painting with a thoughtful expression. “I didn’t want to make a scene. Tonight’s all about you. Plus you’ve got a little too much faith in me if you think I could have gotten past Godzilla with tree stumps for arms.”

  I laughed and squeezed his hand. No one could shift my moods like Jesse. Anger one second, laughter the next.

  He took a few steps closer, leaning in until it looked like he was studying each individual brush stroke. After a few minutes, he stepped back a few feet and took in the painting as a whole. His forehead was lined, his eyes curious, and his mouth flat, giving away nothing.

  Dozens of people had inspected the same picture, and not once had my heart pounded the way it was then. Transparency was tough with anybody, but if a stranger saw into the depths of me and didn’t like what they saw, brushing it off was easier. When someone I cared about, someone I cared about more than myself, saw into those same depths, their conclusion was everything.

  Jesse knew the good, bad, and the ugly of me. He had for a while, and he’d never once turned his back and walked away. That felt different though. Those had been words, stories I’d told him, flashes in time I’d given him a front row seat to. He’d never seen the good, bad, and the ugly on canvas in paint form. I couldn’t exactly tell you how it was different, but it was.

  Right when the anxiety felt like it was about to rip me in half, Jesse’s mouth lifted in a familiar way and his hand dropped from mine only to wind around my middle. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, sweeping a kiss into my temple.

  I choked on a laugh as a tear escaped my eye. “Which one?” I studied the picture with him.

  His mouth moved from my temple to my ear. “Both of you.”

  Just like that, the anxiety was gone, chased away by the all-encompassing acceptance Jesse showed me. He’d accepted me as I’d been last summer, he accepted me for the woman I was today, and I knew he’d accept the woman I was in the future. His acceptance didn’t come with an expiration date.

  A figure slid in front of us. “Ah. You got in. Good for you.” Jax lifted his champagne glass at Jesse before taking a sip.

  “Wait. You knew he was waiting out there?” I managed to hold back the flood of emotion until I received his response.

  When Jax just lifted his eyebrows at me, I stopped holding the flood back. “And you didn’t invite him in or, I don’t know, tell me?” I crossed my arms and stepped toward Jax. I don’t know what I was thinking, it wasn’t like five foot not-a-whole-hell-of-a-lot in two-inch heels was intimidating, but I wanted to be in a position to intimidate. Jax Jones knew how much I wanted Jesse to be a part of the show, and apparently Jax Jones had also known Jesse was waiting just outside those curtains.

  “It wouldn’t have been right of me to invite him in, and you’ve been busy all night.” Jax did that shrug of his that had never really bothered me before. If he did it again, I was going to go nuclear. Leaving my goddamned guest of honor outside for a couple of hours warranted a hell of a lot more than a shrug.

  “Busy? Busy!?” I said, because once just wasn’t enough. “Let me show you something. Pretty basic stuff here.” Marching right up to Jax, I tapped his shoulder, lifted my eyebrows, and motioned toward the entrance. “‘Hey, Rowen. Your boyfriend, you know, that guy you’ve been waiting for all night, is just outside. Why don’t you go invite him in?’” My voice wasn’t trembling—yet—but it was close. Jesse came up behind me and dropped his hands on my shoulders. It wasn’t a calm down gesture. It was an I’ve got your back assurance.

  Dammit, I loved that man, and he’d been left to just hang outside all night thanks to the guy in front of me with an amused expression that made me want to slap it off. Made me want to punch it off.

  “I’ve dropped the ball on that basic stuff my whole life. Sorry, Rowen. Sorry, Rowen’s Boyfriend.” Jax lifted his champagne glass again and, that time, drained the entire thing.

  My eyebrows came together. I’d met Jax in September, and we’d never had a problem. In fact, in a lot of ways, he’d seemed like the male version of me. Artistic, naturally cynical, dry sense of humor, same taste in music . . . but that night, he’d pissed me off big time. From that smug smile, he knew it, too. No apologies about it.

  “That was an asshole move to pull.” I glared at him, reaching for Jesse’s hand to keep from shoving Jax.

  “You know my reputation on campus?” Jax replied, his brown eyes darkening. “Why would you expect anything more than an asshole move from an asshole?”

  I flinched like his words had been a slap. “What the hell is wrong with you? Did a wire trip in your brain in the past fifteen minutes?” Jesse’s hands were still attached to my shoulders, but instead of holding me back, they were holding me steady.

  “Yeah. A wire did trip in my brain.” Jax drilled his index finger into his temple. “Forgive me for being human. I’m not your infallible, perfect cowboy.” Without so much as a good-bye, Jax sped away from Jesse and me like we were radioactive.

  “What in the hell is wrong with him?” I said more to myself than to Jesse.

  “Long day. He’s just tired. I’m sure tomorrow he’ll wake up his usual Jax self—whoever that is—have a cup of coffee, call, and apologize. Then you two can get back to putting together kickass art shows.”

  My anger shut off like a switch had been hit. “Do you always have to see the good in everyone?”

  “No, I don’t have to. I just choose to.”

  I stepped into Jesse’s arms. There wasn’t a single wrinkle of concern on his forehead. Mine felt like it was pinched together with hundreds. “And you’re with someone like me because . . .?”

  “Because I’m supposed to be with you.” His answer came easily, effortlessly.

  “What if tomorrow morning you wake up and supposed to be flies out the window?”

  “No worries,” he replied with a lift of his shoulder.

  “‘No worries’?” I rolled my eyes. “Really?”

  “Really. Because whether supposed to be flies out the window tonight, or tomorrow, or fifty years from now, I’m not going anywhere because I’ll always want to be with you.”

  I rested my head against his chest as a smile formed. “I feel like I should keep arguing because it’s too soon to forfeit, but I think no matter what I argue back with, you’ve kind of got me on this.”

  “Yeah. You’re right. I’ve really got you.” One of Jesse’s arms circled my waist as the other reached for my hand. “Dance with me.” It wasn’t a question. He was already moving to an imaginary beat.

  “What? There’s no dance floor. There’s barely any music. There’re bored millionaires wandering around just looking for something to lift their noses at.” I liked dancing with Jesse. I might not readily admit it, but dancing with Jesse was one of the few things that gave me hope that the world wasn’t eminently doomed.

  “Come on. Dance with me.” When he used that tone, the just-above-a-plea one, I’d learned months ago it was useless to put up a fight. I lost every time.

  “Fine,” I grumbled half-heartedly.

  Staying right where we were, in front of the painting that made me as transparent as one person could be, he led me in a dance I knew I’d never forget. That was one of those moments that would be tattooed into my memory forever. I’d been living more and more of those since meeting Jesse Walker.

  �
�You know I love to dance with you,” he whispered, rubbing his thumb over the beading at my lower back.

  “Remember our first dance?”

  I felt his smile against my forehead. “How could I forget?”

  SOMETIMES JESSE FELT very near, like last night when he curled around me in bed and held me until I fell asleep. And sometimes Jesse felt very far, like that morning when I woke up to an empty bed and cold sheets.

  I didn’t like him starting mile one of a five hundred mile trip at ten o’clock at night, but arguing with him was useless. Honestly, my heart was only half in the argument because extra time with Jesse was hard to argue with. Jesse had to be back on the ranch first thing Monday morning. When he didn’t leave until Sunday night, he arrived back at Willow Springs barely in time for breakfast. That meant he went from driving for eight hours to working for twelve on no sleep. Not that I needed the confirmation, but Jesse Walker was some kind of superhuman.

  Prying myself out of bed on those Monday mornings was always extra hard. I woke up knowing it could be upwards of a solid month before we saw each other again. I tried to make it to the ranch every month, but a couple of times work, school, or a combination of both had made those trips impossible. That Monday, however, was somewhat easier since spring break was less than two weeks away, and I’d get to spend a whole week at Willow Springs. Just thinking about Willow Springs made me homesick. That might be silly given I’d only spent three months of my nineteen years there, but it was . . . home. At least by every definition of the word save for duration.

  I wanted to give myself another minute to pout, but I forced my butt out of bed. The sooner I went to class, work, and my routine, the sooner spring break would get there. Hopefully. After getting showered and dressed, I sent Jesse a quick Don’t fall asleep in the cow pies. Miss you. Love you more. text, I banged on Alex’s bedroom door—I doubled as my roommate’s alarm clock—before I unlocked my bike from the handrail just outside, and I was on my way. Jesse had worked his monthly magic on my bike. He must have replaced the brakes, too, because the lightest tap practically stopped me.