Page 10 of Jesse (Pecan Pines #6)

Jesse

We weren’t in the top five. Not even a mention.

A dull buzzing filled my ears, drowning out the noise of the crowd cheering for the winners. My jaw clenched.

I turned my back to the stage, the list of names that mocked me still burned behind my eyes.

I couldn't look at Beck. Couldn’t stand the idea of seeing disappointment on his face, even if it wasn’t directed at me.

The truck suddenly felt too small, too hot, too loud. The walls were closing in and every inch of space felt like it was pressing down on my skin.

“I need a break,” I muttered, voice tight, refusing to meet Beck’s gaze.

Without waiting for a response, I shoved the door open and stepped out into the cool evening air. I didn’t know where I was going, just that I had to move.

I pushed past groups of festival-goers laughing with their plates of award-winning food.

Past strings of glowing lights and music, past the smell of caramel corn and grilled meat that now made my stomach churn.

Eventually, the noise and color faded behind me, and I found myself ducking into the wooded area behind the fairgrounds.

The quiet hit me all at once. My shoulders dropped slightly.

The trees swallowed the sound of celebration, and the soft rustle of leaves above was a balm against the chaos still ringing in my chest.

I braced a hand against a tree trunk, letting my forehead rest against the rough bark. My other hand curled into a fist at my side.

My wolf stirred beneath my skin, restless and tense. He hated losing. Hated being judged. Hated being seen and found lacking.

After all that planning, all that testing, all that confidence I’d spewed, not just to Beck, but to everyone, we didn’t even place.

I tried to run through what went wrong. Maybe we didn’t plate fast enough. Maybe we clashed too much. Maybe our flavors were too out there, too bold. Maybe?—

God. I was spiraling again. My wolf growled low, agitated, and I gritted my teeth.

But it wasn’t just about losing. I’d dragged Beck into this, promising we’d kill it, promising we’d blow the judges away. Hell, I believed it. And now?

I hadn’t just failed myself, I’d failed him too. Footsteps crunched on the dried leaves behind me. My spine went rigid, instinct flaring.

I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not now. Not when everything was raw and tight in my chest.

But then Beck’s scent rolled in. It was warm, clean, something faintly sweet and grounding like fresh herbs in sun-warmed soil.

My shoulders loosened instantly. My wolf let out a quiet huff, calming a notch.

“Hey,” Beck said softly. “You okay?”

I stayed facing the tree. “Yeah,” I lied. “Just needed some air. Got hot all of a sudden in that truck.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly not buying it.

I turned around reluctantly. He stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, looking more relaxed than I expected. His brows were still slightly drawn, but he wasn’t angry.

Just… watching me. Reading me.

“I know you’re upset we didn’t get into the top five,” he said after a beat. “I am too. But the event’s not over. We should see it through.”

I let out a slow breath. The woods around us were quiet except for the occasional rustle of wind.

His presence was oddly comforting. It was anchoring in a way I wasn’t used to. Like his voice reached through the storm in my head and gently pulled me back to solid ground.

My wolf settled further, soothed by Beck’s calm, steady energy.

“You’re right,” I said finally, my voice low and rough. “I just… I really thought we had a shot.”

“I know,” Beck replied. “And for what it’s worth? I still think we made the best food out there.”

I glanced up at him, surprised. He smiled, just a little.

“You were brilliant in that kitchen, amazing with the customers,” he added. “You move like it’s second nature. Like it’s instinct. And yeah, we bickered a little. Okay, a lot, but that menu was something to be proud of.”

That hit deeper than I wanted it to. I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to ignore the warmth creeping into my face.

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” I said, my voice quieter than intended. “You care. A lot. And you fight for every flavor. I haven’t had that in a partner before. It was… kind of great.”

Beck’s smile grew. “Look at us. Complimenting each other. Who would’ve thought?”

I huffed a dry laugh. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late.”

He stepped closer, not enough to crowd me, just enough that I felt the subtle brush of his aura, his steadiness wrapping around mine like moss over stone.

“I didn’t peg you for a sore loser,” he teased, nudging me gently with his elbow.

“I’m not,” I muttered.

“Uh-huh.”

I turned to him fully now, taking in the messy strands of his hair, the smudge of flour still clinging to his apron, the faint line between his brows that hadn’t quite faded.

His eyes were on me. Really on me, soft and sure.

“You came after me,” I said, suddenly aware of how close we were. “Didn’t think you would.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t want you brooding out here and letting the Thornebane truck think they’d broken your spirit.”

“They didn’t,” I said quickly.

He smirked. “Good. Because they’re insufferable enough without knowing they won.”

I laughed, and this time it was real. “You know… I didn’t think I’d enjoy working with you.”

Beck raised a brow. “Gee, thanks.”

“No, I mean—” I ran a hand through my hair. “I figured we’d just barely tolerate each other. But… it’s been different. Good different.”

Beck tilted his head, something unreadable flickering in his expression.

“I know what you mean,” he said.

Our eyes met, the air stretching between us again, tight with something unsaid. Not quite ready to burst, but close. So close.

I didn’t move this time. Just stood there, letting the moment settle, letting it root between us.

Finally, Beck broke the silence. “Come on. Let’s go be gracious losers. Maybe steal some fries off the winning trucks.”

“Only if they’re good ones,” I said, smirking.

“They won’t be. Not compared to ours,” he said.

“Damn right,” I agreed.

We started walking back, side by side. Not touching, but something electric hummed beneath the space between our arms.

When we got back to the fairgrounds, I expected it to be winding down. Some lingering crowds, leftover food smells clinging to the air, music tapering off.

But instead, the energy was still electric, buzzing with movement, with sound, with something I couldn’t quite place.

“Is the event still going?” I asked, scanning the booths.

Beck slowed beside me, brows drawn in confusion. “Looks like it.”

Then the announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers. “And now for the fan vote portion of today’s competition!”

I blinked. “Wait. What?”

Beck turned to me, just as surprised. “Oh my god, we forgot about the fan vote.”

Right. I had completely spaced on that part of the event.

Probably because I’d mentally written us off the scoreboard. Didn’t seem to matter when you couldn’t even break the top five.

I opened my mouth to say as much, but then?—

“Brisket Delight!”

The shout came from somewhere in the crowd, loud and distinct. A man with a huge grin—someone I vaguely recognized from earlier today, pumped his fist in the air.

My head whipped around. Beck stiffened next to me. “Was that...?”

“Us?” I finished, stunned.

Another shout echoed from a different direction, someone else calling out for a rival truck. I swallowed. Well, that was fun while it lasted

But then our guy shouted our name again. Louder this time. And more voices joined in.

“Brisket Delight!”

“Brisket Delight!”

“Do we actually have a chance?” I asked, heart thudding wildly. I turned to Beck, who looked too stunned to respond.

The announcer grinned. “Y’all know the drill! Head to the website, vote for your favorite! You’ve got twenty minutes, folks!”

Suddenly, the crowd shifted with a new kind of energy. People pulled out their phones, huddling together to cast votes, buzzing with excitement.

I tensed, caught between hope and disbelief.

I didn’t even realize how tightly I was gripping my hands until I felt Beck’s fingers brushing tentatively against mine.

I looked down, then at him. His cheeks were pink, his expression uncertain.

Without thinking, I gripped his hand. It felt good. Right. Solid and grounding and warm in a way that curled around my ribs and made my heart stutter.

We stood like that in the middle of the crowd, silently watching the chaos around us, waiting. Hoping. Praying. Twenty minutes had never moved so slowly in my life.

I must’ve checked the time a dozen times. I tried not to let my expectations rise too high, but it was like a fire catching in my chest, and I couldn’t tamp it down.

When the announcer finally stepped back up to the mic, the entire crowd quieted in anticipation.

“And the winner of the fan vote is... Brisket Delight!”

I didn’t hear the rest.

I yelled. Actually yelled. A wild, disbelieving sound tore from my chest and I turned to Beck, eyes wide.

“We—did you hear that?!”

Before he could even react, I grabbed him and pulled him into a hug. He let out a surprised laugh, then hugged me back tightly.

His arms around me were strong, solid, and the joy between us was electric.

We stood like that, wrapped in our win, surrounded by cheers and noise and the scent of too many food trucks. It didn’t matter anymore.

We’d made it. Not through the traditional route, maybe.

But people had voted for us. They’d loved our food. We were fan favorites. Eventually, we pulled back. Beck’s smile was wide and a little dazed.

“I can’t believe we actually got in,” Beck said.

“Thanks to the crowd,” I said, grinning like an idiot. “And our one very loud fan.”

“We owe him something. A free fries for life.”

“Throw in some fries and we’ve got a deal,” I joked.

Laughing, we headed back toward the truck. The sun was setting, and the square was bathed in soft, golden light.

Inside the truck, it still smelled like rosemary and garlic and something distinctly ours.

Beck plopped down on the bench inside while I leaned against the counter, unable to stop grinning.

“I still can’t believe we got in because of fan votes,” Beck said, shaking his head.

“Guess people like us,” I said. “And our food.”

“We gotta thank that customer.”

“Absolutely,” I said.

I paused, heart still racing for an entirely different reason now.

Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe the way the golden light hit his face, made the green in his eyes more vivid.

Or maybe I’d just run out of reasons not to.

I wasn’t sure what pushed me to lean in. I’d thought about it a lot, but never acted on it. The timing had never felt right. Until now.

So I kissed him. Softly. Quickly. Just enough to let it happen. When I pulled back, Beck’s eyes were wide.

I froze. Too much, too fast?

“I—” I started. “Sorry. About that kiss.”

Beck blinked once, twice. Then his lips curled into a shy smile.

“Don’t be,” he said. “I… kind of liked it.”

My heart somersaulted in my chest.

“I’d like to thank you too,” I said.

“For what?”

“For pulling me out of my funk earlier. For not giving up. For sticking through all of this.”

He looked down for a second, like he was trying not to smile too hard. “Looks like we’ll still be working together.”

“Yeah,” I said, voice thick with more than just excitement. “And, uh... I was wondering if you want to go out and celebrate tonight?”

Beck looked up. His smile was slow but sure. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Later that night, after we cleaned up the truck and said our goodbyes to the crowd, I drove home alone, the radio humming quietly in the background.

I couldn’t stop smiling. A date with Beck.

I replayed the kiss more times than I’d admit, and every time, it made my chest go tight in the best way.

His smile, his warmth, the way he didn’t pull away, it was all there, blooming into something that felt real and new and full of promise.

My phone buzzed in the cupholder. I glanced down and saw Cooper flash across the screen.

I answered on the first ring. “Coop! You’re not gonna believe it. We won. Well, kind of. Fan vote, but still we’re in.”

Cooper chuckled. “I saw the update. Congrats, man. Sounds like you made an impression.”

“We really did. It was wild. People loved the food.”

“I’m happy for you,” he said, then his voice lowered. “But don’t forget, you’ve still got a job to do.”

The smile on my face faded just a little.

“I haven’t forgotten,” I told my lead alpha.

“There’s still a killer out there, Jesse. You and Beck were lucky this time.”

I nodded, gripping the wheel tighter. “I know. I’m on it.”

“Good. Enjoy the win, but don’t lose sight of the bigger picture.”

“I won’t,” I promised, though my chest felt heavier now.

As the call ended, I glanced up at the road ahead. The night stretched on, the stars bright above the trees. I thought about Beck, his laugh, his kiss, his hand in mine.

Then I thought about the blood on Beck’s truck. Two halves of my life, pulling in different directions.

But tonight? Just for tonight, I let myself breathe. Tomorrow, I’d get back to the hunt. But tonight, I’d be celebrating this little win.