Page 17 of How You See Me (You and Me Duology #2)

Hayes

W e park in a public lot near the main drag in downtown Nashville.

Josie didn’t want to waste time and money commuting from an RV park in a cab when we could crash right here.

According to her, sleeping in a parking lot is “no different.” I’m not sure I agree.

Yet, here I am, doing whatever she wants.

I changed into a black tee and jeans at a rest stop about thirty miles back. She freshened up there but waited until now to change.

I’m currently pacing outside an authentic Western-wear shop, while she plays dress-up inside. I lasted a total of two minutes in there before the sea of leather and fringe made me claustrophobic.

With the downtime, I call Mom and scan the cracked sidewalk for a rock to add to Ava’s road trip collection .

“How’s it going?” Mom asks, a knowing drawl in her voice.

She has every reason to be amused with my current situation. My history with women consists of my four sisters, a few forgettable flings, and one long committed relationship with the Corps.

“It’s . . . interesting.”

“What are the sleeping arrangements?”

“Mom,” I groan, figuring I know where this line of questioning is heading. “It’s been one night, and we’re not dating. Of course, I took the front seat.”

“Such the gentleman. Ava was excited to get your photo earlier.” She changes the topic, putting me out of my misery. “You looked happy.”

I surprise even myself when I admit, “I was.” Or as close as I can get to it these days. “How’s Ava doing?”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

“Hi, Sprinkles,” she chirps when she joins the call, and emotion lodges in my throat. She sounds more like herself today. It hurts in a good way. “How was the rollercoaster?”

“Awesome. You would have loved it.”

“Would I have screamed?”

“Oh, yeah. Especially when it went upside down.”

“I love that part.”

“I know.”

“Where are you now?” She stifles a yawn that creeps in on the last word.

“Nashville.”

“Is that where all the country singers live? ”

“Some of them.”

“What are you crossing off the list there?”

“I’m not sure, but I’ll find something. Have any—”

“There you are,” Josie says behind me.

I pivot toward her voice, completely unprepared for what I see. My chest aches from a lack of oxygen, but I can’t pull in enough air to remedy the issue.

Josie is dressed for our night out in frayed, cut off jean shorts—short enough to showcase all her tanned thighs—and a tight, pale-pink tank with GIDDY UP printed across her chest in playful brown letters, matching her new cowgirl boots.

Most of her hair is down, except for the top now pulled back into a little high ponytail with a thin, white ribbon.

Pure trouble in feminine form.

Ava’s still talking in my ear, but I can’t comprehend any of the words. The phone slides out of my hand, and I catch it before it crashes to the sidewalk, bringing my dignity down with it.

“Oh, sorry,” Josie mouths, noticing I’m on the phone. As she backs away, her hands stay hidden behind her. That can’t be good.

Clearing my throat, I turn away since I can’t put together coherent sentences with her in my view. “What did you say, Cupcake?”

“Where you’re going now?”

“Out to dinner.”

“Mom’s cooking us spaghetti with meatballs.”

“Yum. My favorite. ”

“No, it’s not.” She giggles, making me forget the temptress behind me. “You hate pasta.”

“It was a test. You passed. I plan on ordering steak and a baked potato.”

“Sounds more like it.”

“Mom said I can have a little ice cream if I eat good tonight. Maybe you could get some, too.”

I try not to cringe at the thought of mixing beer and ice cream, but my entire body goes all in anyway. I have no control over myself these days. It’s all Josie fault with how easily she disrupts my norm. “Not sure I’ll have room for all that sugar after my big steak.”

“Send me a picture if you do.”

The sound of her little yawn pushes through the speaker.

“Guess I should go. Enjoy your pasta and dessert. I love you.”

“Love you more.”

Pocketing the phone, I try to steel myself before facing Josie again. The memory of her standing under the store awning, looking irresistible and happy to see me, messed with my head. She’s not the kind of woman you forget—even when you know damn well you should.

I head toward her, and she beams bright enough to rival the morning’s sunrays, her hands staying hidden. “I got you something.”

She holds up a card that reads, Welcome to the Club, Cowboy, then grabs my hand .

Before I can protest or investigate the card’s meaning, I’m dragged into the apparel shop and directly to the cashier.

The woman behind the counter, with her weathered skin, no-bullshit demeanor, and gray hair in a tight bun, looks like she’s been stationed here since the day the town was founded.

Her dark eyes travel over me. “I get what you mean,” she tells Josie, like I helped solve a riddle, then disappears into a storage room or something similar behind the counter.

My gaze bounces to the instigator, questioning what she’s gotten me into now. “What’s going on?”

“Patience, Sergeant.”

“Not in my vocabulary.”

“Oh, I know.”

The woman soon re-emerges carrying a square box, big enough for a—

“You didn’t.”

Josie tosses me more sunshine in the form of her blinding smile and it’s not helping. Not. One. Bit.

“I did.”

Her accomplice removes the box top to reveal a rich brown cowboy hat, braided leather band and all. Josie hops onto the counter like she owns the damn place, sets the hat on my head, and says three words that nearly undo me.

“You look hot.”

She means to tease, but something about the way her eyes soak me in makes it seem all too honest. Too raw .

Her legs dangle off the counter. One shift, and I’d be standing between them.

I envision making the move and how she might react.

Would she accept me? Wrap her arms and legs around me and pull me in?

Or tell me to back the hell up? For that split second, both responses feel right.

And that weakness is completely unacceptable.

“Women will be all over you tonight with that on,” Josie adds, yanking me back to reality.

She’s flirty by nature not sending signals. It would be best to remember that.

“I already told you—”

“I’m not talking about one-night stands.” On a quick eye roll, she twists to see the woman standing behind her. “All men have a one-track mind.”

“Don’t I know it.” The woman tsks, shaking her head. She closes the box like this transaction is a done deal.

“Josie.”

“Hayes,” she matches my exasperated tone. “You have the cowboy mystique now. Don’t fight it.”

The woman nods, and I hold the hat out to her. She ignores me, her hand resting on the box lid. “You’ll need it where y’all are going.”

“Where are we going?”

Josie folds a leg on the counter, showcasing her inner thigh all the way up to where her leg meets her hip. She’s trying to kill me. There’s no other explanation.

“Jules here recommended a place a block from here.” She tosses a thumb toward the city behind her like she hasn’t been seducing me .

Probably because she isn’t, you idiot . She’s just comfortable in her skin, and oblivious to how she drives me crazy with it.

She and Jules talk for a bit longer about the next destination before Josie comes back to me, holding out her arms for me to help her down.

Fuck me.

That confirms it. She’s trying to end me. I wish I could say something like, you got up there, get yourself down . But that would make me an asshole, and my momma and the Marines didn’t raise one of those.

Needing both hands for the task, I set the hat back on my head, earning me a satisfied grin from Josie.

I grip her waist and her hands lift to my shoulders. Setting her on the floor, I pretend not to notice the way her fingers tighten as if she doesn’t want to let go, and I don’t want her to. That’s the damn problem.

We’re not dating. We’re not even supposed to be flirting.

But she’s unraveling me thread by unruly thread.

Doesn’t help that I haven’t been with a woman for at least a year.

That must be what’s fueling the magnetic pull.

It’s not her glow, her unmatched beauty, or how she makes me feel significant in a world that’s been swallowing me whole lately.

It’s something carnal, natural, and uncontrollable.

“You two make a beautiful couple,” Jules says, and Josie jumps away from me.

I shove my hands into my pockets since they can’t be trusted.

“We’re not—we’re just—” Josie looks to me for help.

“Friends,” I manage, but the word tastes sour on my tongue. My system doesn’t react to my other female friends the way it does to Josie. And it certainly hasn’t responded like this to any woman I’ve ever touched.

“Could’ve fooled me.” Jules strolls away, leaving us alone.

That’s the last thing we need.

“Ready to go shake it on the dance floor, Cowboy?” Josie asks, completely recovered like no sparks passed between us. Maybe all I sense from her comes straight from my deprived lower section’s imagination.

“I’m ready to eat, not do whatever you just said.”

“Guess I’ll have to do all the shaking for the both of us.”

Never mind. I don’t want to go anymore.

◆◆◆

When we reach the restaurant or bar or whatever they’re called here, she stops with her hand on the door handle. “I was being serious earlier. You do look good in that hat.”

“Thank you, but you shouldn’t have.”

“It’s the least I can do. I’m buying dinner, too. No arguing.”

“We’ll see.”

The second we step inside, the atmosphere slaps us in the face. It’s loud and dark, but blinding at the same time, a stark contrast from the soft sunset and hum of activity outside .

We snake through crowded tables to reach the bar and claim the last two stools, facing the rest of the large room. I have a better chance of relaxing when I can keep an eye on my surroundings, not the other way around. While Josie reads the menu, I scan the tables and designated areas.