Page 9 of Hung Up (Shadow Ridge #1)

INDIANAPOLIS

I think the ice is thawing

You know that moment when you realize you’re awake but refuse to open your eyes just to get a few more minutes of peace before your day starts?

Yeah, I’m not getting any moments of peace this morning.

It’s like one of those monkeys with the cymbals is directly behind my eyelids and there’s no off button.

Throwing my hands over my face, I crack my eyes open and slowly spread my fingers apart, easing the sunlight in so my pupils can adjust with this splitting headache. Besides, it’s not like I have anywhere I need— fuck me, what time is it?

I frantically roll over and fling a hand out in search of my phone, but instead, I hit what appears to be a bottle of Tylenol. Squinting, I read the time and notice it’s only eight in the morning. But once I set it down, I realize there’s also a glass of water and a written note on my nightstand.

Drink up, Pretty Boy.

I can’t stop the grin that tugs at my lips as I stare at the piece of paper like my life depends on absorbing her words.

As if they’re the most important words I’ll ever read in my life.

Grabbing the bottle, I pop off the lid, tossing back two of the pills before swallowing them down with a sip of water.

As I set it back down on the nightstand and swing my legs off the bed, a thought occurs to me.

How did she leave this note and the meds in my room?

I stand and walk to the bathroom, turning on the faucet so nothing but cold water comes streaming out.

I splash some on my face and then brace my hands on the countertop before looking at my reflection in the mirror.

My hair is a mess, standing up in all different directions.

There are bags under my eyes and my skin is slightly pale.

What the fuck happened last night? Did I drink the entire bar?

After a cold shower, mouthwash, a good teeth brushing, and a change of clothes, I’m feeling a little better. My hat rests on the dresser, but I don’t bother to throw it on, wanting to give my hair the opportunity to dry properly. Food , I think to myself. That’s what I need.

Leaving my hotel room and heading for the elevators, I tap my foot impatiently as I wait for the doors to open.

The ride down to the lobby seems to take an eternity, the music echoing off the elevator walls not helping the headache.

But as soon as the doors open, I’d take the music over the boisterous crowd of bull riders waiting by the front doors.

I dip my head and cover the side of my face with my hand so no one sees me and hastily disappear around the corner.

As soon as I drop it, I collide with someone and hear a surprised grunt.

“Would you watch where you’re going?” My eyes widen as I glance down at Faith. “What are you looking at, Pretty Boy?”

“Just an overdressed reporter,” I fire back, crossing my arms over my chest as I let my gaze roam over her. She’s in a pale pink blouse with white dress pants and black heels. Her hair falls in those beautiful curls over her shoulders, and her face is free of any makeup. Be strong, Jesse.

She rolls her eyes and starts to walk by me but I reach out and grab her arm. “Do you want to get breakfast with me?”

Way to be strong.

“You can join me as long as you eat your meal in silence.” She doesn’t give me a chance to respond and instead disappears around the corner the way I had just come.

I practically run after her and see her turn another corner, heading in the opposite direction of the other riders.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I trail behind her and notice the hotel restaurant come into view.

The hostess gives us both a smile, grabs two menus, and leads us to an open booth.

It’s quiet in here, only a few patrons enjoying a meal.

I slide in opposite Faith and immediately reach for the menu.

Glancing over the top of it, I see Faith looking at her own menu, a slight furrow between her brows.

I wish I knew what she was thinking about .

“Good morning, you two,” an older woman says as she pulls a notepad out of her apron. “What can I get you started with for drinks?”

“I’ll take a coffee,” Faith responds immediately, giving her a warm smile. Why can’t I get that smile from her?

“I’ll do the same.”

She gives us a nod as she disappears and I find myself studying Faith again.

We haven’t talked since that night at the bar in Salt Lake City.

I had gotten her number from Kai but couldn’t get myself to text her, too afraid she’d just ignore me.

That night keeps coming back to me in flashes, but the one moment that won’t seem to leave me alone is me yelling for the entire bar to hear that I’m going to marry her one day.

I don’t remember what happened after that.

“Will you please quit staring at me?” I snap out of my thoughts at the sound of her voice to see she has lowered her menu and is glaring at me. “It’s making me uncomfortable.”

“Sorry,” I mumble. The waitress appears, sets our coffees down, and takes our order before she slips back into the kitchen. Turning my attention back to Faith, I run a hand over my beard before asking, “What happened last night?”

She raises a brow. “You were an idiot and did shots with some fans, that’s what happened.”

“I’m not an?—”

“You took five shots the night before you’re supposed to ride,” she says, interrupting me. I suddenly feel like a scolded child. “That’s a pretty idiotic thing to do in my opinion.”

My eyes narrow. “I’m a big boy, Sweetheart. I can take care of myself.”

“Can you really?” She scoffs, resting her elbows on the table and intertwining her hands together. “Because if it weren’t for me, you probably would’ve passed out at the bar and woken up with your face stuck to the hardwood floor.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t pull that shit. You think you can just—” She suddenly stops, her brows furrowing as she studies me. “What did you say?”

I shrug. “I said thank you. Thank you for getting me back to the room and leaving that Tylenol and glass of water. I’m sorry you had to take care of me, and you’re right. I was an idiot to drink that much the night before a ride. It won’t happen again.”

She frowns but continues to stare at me, and I shift slightly in my seat.

Her blue eyes are intense as they watch me, almost like she’s looking for something that even I don’t know exists.

Or maybe she’s just trying to see if I’m lying.

I clear my throat, which immediately causes her frown to disappear as she blinks at me slowly, letting her hands fall into her lap.

“It’s hard to be mad at you when you admit you’re wrong,” she grumbles with a quiet sigh.

I bite my lip to stop my chuckle from escaping, but refuse to say a word before she does, fearing I’ll say the wrong thing.

It’s like walking on thin ice with her. One wrong word and she’ll start yelling at me again.

Or push me away. “So if you know it’s irresponsible, then why do you do it? ”

“Well,” I draw out, rolling my lips between my teeth as I mull over how to answer that.

Do I give her the full truth, the half truth, or just make a joke?

Staring at her, I realize that if I want her to open up to me and give me a chance to at least be friends, then I owe her that, too.

“My PR firm got on me for being seen in the papers with so many different women. They told me to either stick with one woman or no women at all if I want to keep my sponsorships. The bars get a little boring now that I’m not looking for women. ”

“And instead of finding a woman to sleep with for the next four months, you decided to say no women at all?” I nod.

“Wow. And here I thought you couldn’t surprise me.

” I raise a brow at that, and she shrugs.

“It’s just your reputation, is all. I assumed you’d want to at least have one woman to sleep with.

Or I guess I’m surprised you’re not finding a way around that.

There are ways to still have sex and keep it out of the papers. ”

Filing that question away for later. “It’s not something worth risking. I need the money from these sponsorships to help my brother take care of the ranch. Choice is pretty obvious to me. Besides, sleeping around isn’t as enjoyable as the papers made it seem.”

“Then why did you do it?”

Now that right there is the question I’ve been trying to answer for the last few years.

Sex is sex, and it’s good, but it’s not like I’m an addict or anything like that.

I’ve always wanted to date, but it was difficult to make anything stick with my profession.

All the traveling and the danger of the job turned women away from wanting a serious relationship.

The only type of connection I could ever grow with anyone was purely physical, so I figured, why try anything new?

“It was the only thing that made sense,” I answer instead, and the truth of it hits me somewhere deep inside. She nods as if she understands, so I risk asking, “And what about you? Are you a serial dater? A bed hopper? Waiting for the one? Or have you sworn off relationships?”

She laughs, really laughs, and my attention falls to the freckles dotting her cheeks and makes butterflies erupt in my stomach.

Her laughter is…honeyed. I guess I know what answer I’m hoping for.

“And what makes you think I’m not dating someone currently?

” I raise a brow in silent response. “Okay, fine. I’ve sworn off relationships. ”

“May I ask why?”