Page 51 of One Last Rodeo

If I didn't respect his grandma so instantly, I'd stomp on his foot in front of her for that. I shouldn't be ashamed or embarrassed that he told her. I'm here for vacation, just like he is. I glare at him anyway. He smiles at me. She just laughs easily.

“Hope he’s more handsome than my grandson.” She pats Jensen’s chest.

“He’s not,” Jensen says immediately. My glare deepens.

“I trust Jensen will show you Tennessee so well you’ll want to retire here someday just like he wants to.”

I smile politely. “Can’t wait to see it. He said he’d take me fishing, too. I’ve never done that before.”

“Oh, you’re going to have a blast. Here,” she reaches across the counter and hands me a glass of what I assume must be sweet tea. It smells amazing and looks like it contains an entire box of sugar in it. “Your room’s down the hall, opposite of Jensen’s. He can show you where to put your things. Then come have dinner with me. And tell meeverythingabout his shoulder injury and what you two have been up to.”

“Absolutely,” I say, even though I plan to tell her only the legally required minimum. Because HIPAA, and all that.

Jensen leads me down the narrow hallway of his grandma’s cabin. I take in the pictures lining the walls as we go. Little Jensen, gap-toothed and sunburned, hugging a fishing pole; riding a bike too small for him; standing in oversized boots beside a pond. Riding on the back of a beautiful black horse.

All of them are just him. No parents. No siblings. I stop at one—Jensen at maybe eight or nine, sitting on the porch steps with a fishing rod twice his height, squinting into the sun like he's trying to see something far away. He looks so serious. Too serious for a kid that age. I know that look. I've seen it in photographs of myself from around the same age—that expression children get when they've learned early that the adults around them are unreliable and they've decided, quietly, to take things from here.

I reach up and straighten the frame slightly. It was crooked by about three degrees.

“You were cute,” I tell him.

He grins down at me. “I was a little hellion.”

Something in my chest pulls tight knowing that he wants a family of his own someday. And probably one that he'll raise in this same adorable cabin. I like imagining him here, loud, messy, probably tracking mud everywhere. I don’t like imagining him being lonely. I wonder if that’s why he has these dreams. To prove to himself that he’ll do it better than his parents did. I feel confident that he will. Jensen’s built to be someone’s dad.

“Here ya go.” He gestures into the open doorway of the room across from his bedroom. It’s small, cozy and perfect. There's a quilt on the bed, a dresser older than both of us combined, and some western styled artwork hanging on the walls. I’ve never slept in a room decorated like this.

“Ever stayed in a cabin before?”

I shake my head. “First time.”

He grins. “First time for everything. It gets drafty at night, but out here the only light pollution is the stars. You wanna get changed for your date now? That way we can head out right after dinner. I’d hate for you to be late to see Brock.”

Something about the way he says his name tells me he’d actually love that. Something about that makes me feel like I might too. Before I can stop myself, I say it.

“I should cancel the date. This was rude. I’m really out of practice and wasn’t thinking.”

He holds up a hand to stop me. “Catalina. No.”

There’s no more explanation, just him stopping me, telling me not to cancel. I bite down on my bottom lip, his eyes drop there immediately, and I watch his throat as he works through a slow swallow.

“I’ll meet you in the dining room in a few minutes.”

Then he closes the door behind him, leaving me alone in my temporary room with my suitcase, nerves, and the looming reality that I’m meeting a man for drinks while Jensen watches me.

I walk to the mirror that's perched on top of the dresser and stare at my reflection. I don't even recognize myself anymore. The old Catalina, the one who was engaged to the only man she’d ever slept with, moving through life like she performs surgery, without having to think, wouldneverbelieve I was staying with a stranger and his grandma for a week.

I should be thinking about Brock. I've been on exactly two first dates in my entire adult life, and one was with Jensen, which really wasn’t a date, but still ended in his hotel room naked. I should be picking out something that says approachable. Awoman who is trying to put herself back out there and learn what she likes in a partner.

Instead, I unzip my suitcase and immediately pull out the first dress I packed. Because all I can think about is dressing in something Jensen will notice.

Something that will make him look twice.

Chapter 15 - Jensen

I don’t like what Catalina’s wearing tonight. Not even a little.

I take another slow sip of my water from where I’m tucked into the corner of the bar, half in shadow, half pretending I’m not blatantly watching her andBrock.