Page 14 of Jesse (Pecan Pines #6)

Beck

The room was quiet except for the soft rhythm of Jesse’s breathing. His arm was draped across my waist, anchoring me in place.

Even half-asleep, he held on tight enough that I had to shift carefully to turn over and face him.

Jesse was still out cold, his dark lashes brushing softly against his cheeks. A subtle flush clung to his skin, stirring vivid memories of last night, the weight of his body against mine, the firm grip of his hands on my hips, and the deep, rough groans in my ear that sent a shiver down my spine.

My cheeks burned, but I couldn’t look away. Tentatively, I brushed his hair back, my fingers grazing the soft strands before trailing down to the sharp line of his jaw.

I traced the faint shadow of stubble, then let my thumb linger on the spot where his dimple usually appeared when he smiled.

He didn’t stir, so my hand ventured lower, sliding to the nape of his neck. His skin was warm beneath my fingertips, and for a moment, I wondered what it would take to wake him.

Another round wouldn’t be the worst idea.

Jesse stayed sound asleep. I let my hand drop and leaned in, resting my head against his chest.

His heartbeat was solid and even, a steady rhythm that eased my nerves. My wolf stirred quietly, calm and at peace.

A loud growl from my stomach broke the quiet. I froze, glancing at Jesse, but he still didn’t move. I shook my head, amused. "Out cold," I muttered before carefully slipping out of his hold.

Once free, I headed to the kitchen, stretching as I went.

A quick look in the cabinets confirmed my low expectations: a loaf of bread, some jam, and a nearly empty jar of peanut butter.

I held up the jar, inspecting it. It was barely enough left for a sandwich, definitely not enough for a thick smear, which was how I liked mine.

I looked at the counter and could almost see Jesse. After a long shift, jacket off and tie loose, he’d be making a quick PB&J in the low kitchen light. He’d probably just lean on the counter and eat it straight from his hands, no plate needed.

I knew that routine well. I’d done the same when I started out, sometimes grabbing a bowl of cold cereal instead. Whatever was easiest.

Deciding not to settle for the sad remains of Jesse’s pantry, I figured I’d go out and get something better.

Sleeping Beauty was still out cold, so I quickly washed up, started a pot of coffee, and left a note before heading out.

The truck rumbled to life, and I hesitated briefly, debating whether to call Jackson or Noah for breakfast recommendations.

Both would have opinions, but that also meant dealing with their questions. I decided against it, sighed, and pulled out onto Main Street.

The town was just waking up, sidewalks filling with people. The smell of coffee and baked goods in the air as I drove slowly, checking out the storefronts.

A small café with a modest line caught my eye, so I parked and joined the queue. Longer queues usually meant better, or at least more popular, food.

While waiting, a faint prickling sensation crawled up the back of my neck, like I was being watched.

I glanced around, pretending to check my phone, but saw nothing unusual. It was just people sipping coffee and chatting.

Probably my imagination, I thought, though the feeling didn’t quite go away.

After grabbing breakfast, I noticed a grocery store across the street and figured I’d stock up on a few things.

Jesse’s pantry wasn’t exactly well-stocked, and PB&J wasn’t going to cut it forever.

The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly as I walked the aisles, grabbing the essentials: bread, peanut butter, jam, and milk.

My hand hesitated over the cereal. Would Jesse even like it? I wasn’t sure, but the thought of him trying one of my favorite late-night staples made me smile.

I tossed it in the basket, hoping he’d give it a chance.

As I reached for a carton of milk, the same prickly sensation crept up my neck again, stronger this time. My pulse quickened. I glanced around, trying to appear casual.

A few aisles over, a man in a dark red sweater and a baseball cap lingered near the shelves.

His head was tilted slightly, as if reading a label, but there was something about his posture that put me on edge.

I froze.

Was he in the coffee shop earlier? The thought flickered through my mind, but I couldn’t place him for certain.

Calm down, Beck. You’re being ridiculous.

Still, I moved quicker, grabbing the last item on my list and heading for the self-checkout.

My hands moved almost automatically, scanning and bagging the groceries, but my focus darted to the edge of my vision, searching for that red sweater.

I left the store with my pulse racing, gripping the bags tightly as I crossed the street back to the truck. Once inside, I sat there for a moment, trying to breathe.

The cab was quiet, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. I adjusted the rearview mirror, moving it side to side, hoping for reassurance.

For a split second, I thought I saw a flash of red, but when I looked again, there was nothing.

I swallowed hard. Get a grip.

Pulling out of the spot, I drove back to Jesse’s apartment with a little more urgency than usual.

My eyes flicked to the mirrors more often than necessary, but the streets behind me stayed empty.

By the time I parked and grabbed the bags, the tightness in my chest had eased, slightly. But that nagging feeling of being watched still crawled along my spine.

Jesse was in the kitchen when I got back, leaning on the counter with his phone. He looked up as I walked in, his face brightening.

For a moment, the unease from earlier faded, replaced by something warmer. Safer.

“You should’ve woken me up,” Jesse said, walking over to help with the bags.

He leaned in to give me a quick peck on the cheek, so casual it felt like second nature. The gesture caught me off guard, and I felt my shoulders drop a fraction.

Should I say something? Did it even matter now that I was here with him?

I handed over the lighter bag, avoiding his gaze as I shifted the heavier ones in my arms. My throat felt tight, the words hovering there, but I swallowed them down.

Not yet. It’s probably nothing.

Jesse peeked inside. "You went all out, huh?"

"Maybe," I replied, forcing a smile.

Jesse chuckled and set the bag on the counter. "Oh, guess what?" he said. "That group chat you showed me? It’s a goldmine. Did you know there was almost a fight yesterday between the dumpling truck and the taco truck?"

I raised an eyebrow, grateful for the distraction. "What, over who gets the most likes on social media?"

"Close. Apparently, someone borrowed propane tanks without asking, and when they tried to get them back, it turned into a shouting match. Pretty sure someone threw a dumpling."

I snorted, shaking my head. "Sounds about right."

Jesse grinned, scrolling on his phone. "Oh, and check this out. The festival website has this whole review section. It shows which dishes are the most popular from each truck."

That caught my attention, tugging me out of my thoughts. "Really? What does it say about ours?"

Jesse’s chest puffed up slightly. "Brisket. Fan favorite, hands down."

I froze, then snatched the phone from his hand. "No way. Our burger and fries have been selling like crazy. I’d bet anything they’re the top sellers."

"Nope," Jesse said, crossing his arms and looking thoroughly amused. "Check for yourself."

I skimmed the page, and sure enough, there it was: Jesse’s brisket, ranked as the most-loved dish from our truck. A review even popped up: ‘Came for the burger, stayed for the brisket.’

"You’ve got to be kidding me," I muttered.

Jesse leaned in, a smug grin spreading across his face. "Guess we know whose dish people actually come back for."

"Those reviews are random," I argued. "They only show the ones people write in. What about the customers who just rate the food? Ever think they might prefer the burger but don’t bother leaving comments?"

Jesse’s grin widened. “Someone sounds like a sore loser to me."

I narrowed my eyes at him, but the spark in his gaze made it hard to stay annoyed.

"Don’t worry, I’m sure your burger will have its moment in the finals," Jesse added, his tone shifting to something more serious. "That’s where it counts, right?"

His words hit harder than I expected, reminding me of the stakes.

It wasn’t just about the competition but everything surrounding it. I hesitated as the earlier sensation of being watched crept back into my mind.

"Jesse, when I was out?—"

He tilted his head, looking at me more seriously. "What’s wrong?"

I opened my mouth to tell him, but before I could, a sharp knock on the door interrupted us. Jesse frowned, his gaze flicking to the door, then back at me.

"Hold that thought."

He moved toward the door, and my chest clenched as I fought down the unease.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone edging on rude.

Standing in the doorway was Ethan, carrying a folder and a faintly amused expression.

“Good morning to you too, Jesse," he replied, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "I wanted to congratulate you on making it to the next round."

Jesse crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed. "Yeah? And what are you really doing here?"

Ethan held up the folder, giving it a little shake. "Colton wanted me to check in with you about your work schedule. He figures you’re still off until the festival and this case is done."

Jesse groaned. “Couldn’t you have just called?”

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Do you think I don’t know how you sleep? Nothing wakes you. That’s why I had to come here to get this taken care of.”

I couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled up, quickly disguising it as a cough when Jesse shot me a questioning look.

"What?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Tried to wake you up earlier. You didn’t even budge. It was like trying to wake a rock."

Ethan grinned, nodding in agreement. "Exactly my point."

Jesse rolled his eyes but grabbed the papers and glanced over them, pulling out his phone to compare the dates. "Let me check the calendar. Just need to make sure it lines up."

Jesse flipped through the papers and checked his calendar on his phone. After a moment, he paused, noticing Ethan’s name on a few shifts.

“I don’t mind coming in a few times next week to help out,” Ethan said. “I know this festival’s important to you.”

"Thanks," Jesse mumbled.

Ethan handed over a pen for Jesse to finalize the updates, then glanced at me. "Beck, you should come by the restaurant sometime. Free meal. Anytime you want."

"Oh, I don’t want to be a bother," I said, shaking my head.

"Don’t you want to see how the winners cook? Maybe pick up a few pointers for the finals?” Jesse cut in, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I paused, letting the idea sink in as I looked between them.

Ethan’s eyes lit up, grinning. "Perfect! Just let us know when you’re coming by, and we’ll stay open late for you."

He glanced at Jesse with a hopeful smile. "Hey, maybe you could come in early and cover a shift while Beck’s there."

Jesse shot him a sharp look. "Absolutely not," he said, narrowing his eyes. "And aren’t you inviting us for a free meal?"

"Only Beck," Ethan teased, already heading for the door with a laugh. "Text me when you’re coming by." He gave Jesse a mock salute on his way out, leaving Jesse muttering under his breath.

As the door clicked shut behind Ethan, Jesse wasted no time turning back to me.

“You were going to tell me something earlier,” he said, his gaze steady and expectant.

I froze, the weight of his attention making my chest feel a little tighter.

“It’s nothing,” I started, waving it off with a small laugh. “Not a big deal.”

Jesse’s brow furrowed. “Beck.” The way he said my name, low and firm, left no room for escape.

I scratched the back of my neck, stalling. “It’s just... earlier, when I went out,” I began slowly, “I thought I felt like someone was watching me.”

His eyes narrowed as a flicker of concern crossed his face. “What do you mean, watching you?”

I held up my hands, forcing a smile I didn’t quite feel. “I don’t know, Jesse. It’s probably just my imagination. It’s been a long week, and with everything going on, my head’s probably just playing tricks on me.”

“Beck…”

“It’s nothing,” I cut in, a little too quickly. “Seriously. Just a couple of times, I thought I noticed someone, but when I looked again, no one was there. And yeah, maybe I saw the same guy in two different places, but it’s not like that’s impossible in a small town.”

The crease between Jesse’s brows deepened, and his lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re sure?”

“Positive,” I lied.

The truth was, I wasn’t sure. Not really. But I couldn’t afford to make a big deal out of this. Jackson’s warning echoed in my mind: If things get dangerous, you’re done .

I wasn’t ready for that. I couldn’t let this slip through my fingers, not the competition, not the chance to prove myself, and not the connection I was starting to feel with Jesse.

So I shrugged like it was no big deal and forced a grin. “Besides, it’s not like anything actually happened. No harm, no foul, right?”

Jesse didn’t look convinced. If anything, the intensity in his gaze only grew as he studied me.

For a moment, I thought he might press the issue, but instead, he let out a sigh and nodded, though his expression didn’t soften.

“Alright,” he said finally, his voice quieter, almost subdued. “But if anything else happens, you tell me. Right away.”

“I will,” I promised, hoping he wouldn’t catch the slight hesitation in my tone.

We moved to the kitchen table, where I’d laid out the food. Jesse picked at his sandwich and I tried to focus on my own meal.

The quiet stretched on, broken only by the occasional clink of a plate or the hum of the fridge.

My wolf, usually restless, was unusually still.

Jesse’s voice finally broke the silence. “You don’t have to handle everything alone.”

I met his eyes and forced a nod. “I’m not.”

He didn’t push, but the concern in his gaze stayed with me long after the meal ended.