Page 49 of Hung Up (Shadow Ridge #1)

NAMPA

bye bye secrecy

The fact that I had to wear sweatpants, a sweatshirt, a jean jacket over said sweatshirt, and a beanie before I felt prepared to go outside should’ve been proof enough that I needed to stay locked in the hotel room with my cold meds and leftover soup.

But watching the announcers talk about the ride before the event started was killing me.

I wanted to be there.

Going as a spectator clearly isn’t in the cards because I refuse to go to this thing and not see anybody. Especially if I’m sacrificing my health to support them.

We’re going to ignore the hypocrisy.

The arena is bustling by the time I finally arrive, only ten minutes until the first ride.

I’m moving slower than normal thanks to the body aches, almost getting trampled by three riders as they rush past me.

I will say the one good thing about having to dress this way is that no one seems to recognize me.

“Faith?”

I stand corrected.

Stopping, I turn around slowly with a strained smile, coming face to face with Rylie. “Hey, Ry.”

“What the hell are you wearing?” She scans me up and down with a furrowed brow. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear a hat before. Oh, is this some undercover thing?”

“Unintentionally.” She looks even more confused, a sigh escaping me as I brace myself for a lecture. “I’m still technically sick.”

“Technically?”

My shoulders tense at his voice this time, and I swallow the sudden lump in my throat. Why do I feel like I’m a little kid who just got caught with their hand in the candy jar? I don’t turn around; instead, I just nod and plaster a smile on my face, which has Rylie fighting back her laughter.

“I mean, I’m feeling a lot better, but I’m obviously not at full health, so yes.” I finally turn, our gazes connecting, and the concern and frustration in his gaze almost has me faltering for a moment. “Technically.”

“If you were feeling better, you wouldn’t be dressed in layers looking like a celebrity trying to hide from the press.”

Okay, mister, I watch TMZ. “That’s not why I’m dressed like this.

” He certainly doesn’t believe me, so I buckle down, trying to make the lie believable.

“I’m not working tonight, so I didn’t want to dress up or look the part and have people think I am.

I just want to watch without any responsibility. ”

“Mhm.” Jesse takes a step closer, closing the space between us as he reaches forward, pushing my hat up slightly and pressing the back of his hand against my forehead. “And your forehead is hot because?”

“The hat.” I swat his hand away and pull the hat back down, trying my best and failing to look intimidating enough where he’ll stop pestering me. “It’s wool, so it’s making my head warm. Any other questions, detective?”

He chuckles, soft and low. “I prefer Doctor if we’re going to roleplay.” My cheeks heat profusely, caught off guard by the sudden image of him in nothing but a doctor’s coat. “You should be in bed, Sweetheart. What was it you were telling me yesterday?”

I knew he was going to throw that back in my face. “It’s not the same thing, and you know it. One’s a cold, and one’s broken bones. Try again.”

“I don’t know,” he starts, a trace of humor in his tone. “Putting your career over your health seems pretty straightforward to me.”

“See, but I’m not working tonight, so, again, technically that’s not what I’m doing.” I grin triumphantly when he tips his head back and shakes it. “Are we going to keep going around in circles, or can we get you ready to ride? Not that I’m not loving this back and forth we’re having here.”

He throws an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side and giving me a light shake before he starts to lead us over to the chute. “I’m only agreeing because I’m up next, but don’t think this conversation is over.”

“Okay, Dad,” I tease, the words tumbling out of me before I can stop them. His laughter is loud and infectious, drawing a lot of eyes in our direction, but I can’t stop the smile on my face knowing I’m the only one who seems to get him to laugh like that.

Not sure when I started wearing that like a badge of honor, but here I am.

When we reach the chute, he presses a kiss to the side of my head before releasing me, nodding at Wyatt, who stands there ready to help handle the bull as he climbs up.

I ignore the look he’s giving me, not feeling the slightest bit in the right headspace due to the brain fog this cold is giving me, to try and decipher everything he isn’t saying.

I certainly don’t have the energy for his broodiness today.

Stepping to the side, I walk up to the bars and make sure I can see into the arena, glancing to my right to watch him slip onto the bull.

It’s a different angle than I’m used to being down here, and the bull looks so much larger than I remember it being from up above.

It’s a little daunting, and suddenly I find myself nervous.

What if he gets hurt? What if something goes wrong? What happens if he can’t finish out the season?

But the gate is yanked open, and the bull is flying out of its entrapment before I can think another negative thought. And as I watch, I’m not sure what I was so worried about. Well, an accident mostly. But watching him out there?

Jesse Hayes was meant to be a bull rider.

He lasts the full eight and lands effortlessly on his own two feet, and if my throat didn’t hurt as badly as it does, I’d definitely be cheering for him right now. So when his eyes land on mine, I give him a thumbs up instead, which has him beaming.

It still amazes me how the littlest of gestures from me seems to make his whole day.

He’s beside me before I even notice he slipped out of the ring, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me in for a hug. My arms are wrapping around his waist before I can stop them, settling into his embrace. God, his hugs always make me feel better.

I open my eyes and immediately see a few other riders whispering to one another, their attention fixed on us, and the reality of where we are comes crashing into me.

I abruptly take a step back, giving him a strained smile, and his brows furrow.

Tilting my head subtly to the right, he turns and notices we have an audience.

He huffs and turns, heading for a more secluded hallway, so I wait a minute or two—until those riders who were watching us walk away—before I follow him.

He’s leaning with his back against the wall, his arms folded in front of himself, when I walk up to him. His body language would probably set off my warning bells if I weren’t sick, but I choose to ignore it.

“We can’t even hug in public?”

I shrug. “I never said that. I just don’t like when people stare at me like that.”

Huh, am I really not worried about being seen with him anymore, or is this the cold talking?

“You mean that?”

There’s so much hope in his voice that it has me slightly confused. I mean, we’ve been seen together plenty—dancing, drinking, talking, showing up at the arena together. I’m not sure why this seems to be any different.

“Of course.” He grabs my hand, pulling me closer. My hands land on his chest, his on my waist. “Great ride tonight, Pretty Boy. If you’re not a few points shy of Kai after that, I’ll be surprised.”

“I’m still mad at you for coming instead of staying back at the hotel and napping,” he tells me, his forehead landing on mine. “But I can’t lie, my ride benefited from your stupidity.”

I pull back. “Did you just call me stupid?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I said ‘your stupidity’ meaning you made a stupid choice. Doesn’t mean you’re stupid.”

“Really?” I chuckle softly as he cups my cheek.

“Yup. That’s my story and I’m sticking with it. You’re the smartest person I know, Faith Thompson.” He dips his head, his nose pressing against mine and stealing the air from my lungs. “The smartest, sexiest, funniest, and most beautiful.”

His lips are on mine before I can respond. I sink into it easily, choosing to ignore the fact that I’m sick. If he wants to kiss me, who am I to deny him that?

It’s a slow, sensual kiss. One full of promise but also full of longing, one that I don’t want to ever end. I feel it in my bones, can suddenly feel every emotion he’s ever made me feel, and it’s overwhelming.

But for once, I don’t want them to go away. I don’t want to turn a blind eye and ignore them.

I want to face them head-on.

He pulls back, pressing a kiss against my forehead before he rests his against mine. His breath sounds a little shaky, and I can’t tell if it’s from the kiss or what’s on his mind.

“Faith,” he whispers, an ache in his voice that has me taking pause. “Please. Please tell me you feel it, too.”

“Jesse—”

“I can’t pretend I haven’t fallen for you.” His words have my breath hitching. “And it’s killing me not knowing if there’s even a slim chance you might feel the same.”

I sigh, taking a small step back, his hands falling away from me. When our gazes reconnect, there’s so much agony in them that I almost find myself buckling at my knees. “I do, but how I feel doesn’t matter, Jesse. There’s only one way that this ends.”

“But it doesn’t have to.” He closes the space that I created, grabbing my hands between his. “We can make it work if you want to.”

“I don’t see how we can,” I whisper, wishing more than anything that I could imagine a world where I wouldn’t have to walk away from him. “Your life is in Montana, mine is in California. We both travel so much for work?—”

“I can quit.” His words have my eyes widening. “I can quit bull-riding. I’d do it for you. Please, Faith. Just tell me you feel as intensely as I do, and I’ll do whatever I can to be with you.”

“I—”

Footsteps racing down the hall cut off what I was about to say, drawing both of our attention. Rylie comes running toward us, stopping a couple of feet away as she tries to catch her breath. I slip my hands out of Jesse’s and turn my body toward hers, taking a cautious step forward.

“Rylie? What’s wrong?”

She wordlessly hands her phone to me, and my brows furrow before I reach for it. But my entire face falls when I see what’s on her screen.

There’s a video on someone’s Instagram story of Jesse and I kissing in this very hallway.

And he’s tagged.

And it’s already going viral.

My phone begins to frantically vibrate in my pocket, and my hand shakes as I reach for it. Sure enough, my social media is blowing up with comments. I glance between the two of them before I take off, running down the hallway and heading for the exit, not looking back as they call after me.

This is exactly what I had been afraid of.

And it came true.