The Calamity (Hayden Family Book 4) by Jennifer Millikin

Author:Jennifer Millikin [Millikin, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JNM LLC
Published: 2021-10-27T16:00:00+00:00

In the morning, I discover Jessie has squat for groceries. We make our way into town.

Our appearance together at the grocery store does not go unnoticed. A woman I don't recognize, but Jessie greets, gives us a lengthy once-over.

"Sheriff Monroe's wife," Jessie whispers when we're far enough away. "Hand to God, she is the biggest busybody in this town. Give it three days, and everyone will know you're staying with me."

“How will she know if nobody tells her?”

“She’s a better detective than her husband ever was. A bloodhound, that one.”

I glance over at the sheriff's wife. The old woman tears her gaze away from us, and I laugh. “Had to happen at some point, I suppose." Maybe it sounds cavalier, but I actually like the idea of people knowing about me and Jessie. I’m not sure what there is to know, seeing as how last night she reminded me how little kissing we’ve done so far, which is to say none. Still, if people assume we’re together, I’d consider it a fortunate misconception. If she has to be associated with someone, I want that person to be me.

"Sure did," Jessie replies, adding tortilla chips to the basket.

“You’re not worried this gossip will make it harder for you to get a date in this town?” I look away after I ask the question. I’m fishing. For what, I don’t exactly know.

“Sawyer.” The way Jessie says my name, all soft and sweet like that, has my breath slamming up my throat. I meet her gaze.

“I’m not going to French restaurants or letting anybody else stay in my home. Does that answer your question?”

She stares back at me. Her baby blue eyes are an endless sea, one I want to swim in. What would it be like to let myself go with her? To have her? To let her have me?

Fuck, I like this woman. She doesn’t play games. And she doesn’t deserve any from me. I need to tell her about Brea. She needs to know the reason for my hesitance.

I swallow and nod. “Yes, that answers my question.”

Jessie leads us into the next aisle, and when I move for a jar of salsa, she stops me. "I do not allow that salsa in my home."

I raise an eyebrow and point at the different brand beside it. "Nope," she says, with a shake of her head. "This way." She leads me to the produce section, choosing cilantro, a white onion and a head of garlic. Next she grabs canned diced tomatoes and dried red pepper flakes, then turns to me.

"Salsa is the one and only thing I can make, but I make it damn well."

I chuckle. "Far be it for me to change that."

I gather items for dinner, now that I know Jessie doesn't cook, and we check out. The cashier gives us a look as long as the sheriff's wife, but she doesn't say anything. Jessie smiles at her and makes small talk.

I watch her relaxed grin, the ease with which her body moves, how comfortable she feels in her skin.

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