Page 65 of The Coppersmith Farmhouse (Jamison Valley 1)
So I whispered, “Okay.”
After we finished our talk, Jess carried me inside from the porch swing and took me straight to bed. Then he showed me what the hype about make-up sex was all about.
Now we were ready for sleep, talking quietly and catching up from our week apart. I wasn’t in my usual position, tucked to Jess’s side. Instead, his arms were banded around me, pulling my back tightly to his front. When he talked, I felt his breath at the top of my head.
“Uh . . . how much of the dance party did you see?” I asked.
“A lot.” His chest was shaking as he tried to muffle his laughter.
I was completely embarrassed he had seen me shaking my ass off, dancing like a fool in the living room.
Correction. I was completely mortified. My cheeks were so hot I was sure they were as red as an apple, so I turned my face into the pillow.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said. “I had a shit week without you. Coming here to see you laughing and dancing made it all go away. Besides, now I know you you’ve got some moves, Freckles. You’ve been holding out on me.” He squeezed his arms a little tighter around my body.
“What?” I asked, confused.
He unlaced his fingers from mine and one hand traveled under the covers to my bum.
“You can shake this ass, baby.”
“Oh my god,” I muttered into the pillow, now even more embarrassed. Jess lost his hold and started howling. His laughter filled the room. And mortified as I was, it felt great to have him back.
The shrill ring of Jess’s phone woke us from a dead sleep.
He reached quickly for his phone while I turned to look at my alarm clock.
2:23 a.m.
Eff.
In all the nights that Jess had slept in my bed, not once had his phone gone off at odd hours. The latest I’d ever seen him get a call was nine o’clock. A call to the sheriff after two in the morning could not mean good things.
“Yeah,” he answered. Ten seconds later, he rumbled, “Be right there.”
He threw the covers back and leaped out of bed.
“Emergency in town, Georgia. There’s a house on fire. I gotta get down there.”
“Okay,” I said to his back.
I sat up and waited for him to emerge from the closet.
I wasn’t surprised when he came out wearing different clothes than he’d come over with tonight. Jess had been building a collection of clothes in my closet. A few pairs of jeans, a sweater and an extra work shirt. I’d even started putting his T-shirts, boxer briefs and socks in my top drawer. I hadn’t asked but I assumed he stopped by his house a few times a week to reload the backpack he brought with him to the farmhouse.
“Don’t know when I’ll be back. I’ll lock up when I go.” He had pulled on jeans and a brown wool sweater.
“Be safe.”
He planted one hand on the bed to lean in and give me a quick kiss. Then he took three long strides and was out the door. Twenty seconds later, I heard his truck roar to life and speed down the gravel drive. To make it to his truck so quickly, he must have been running by the time he hit the front door. And the sound of spraying gravel from his spinning truck wheels meant he wasn’t slowing down.
Things were not good in Prescott tonight.
“Baby, wake up.”
I jolted awake and it took me a second to realize where I was. The office, in my chair.
Jess was on one knee, crouched down in front of me. One of his hands was gently shaking me awake.
