Page 23 of Jesse (Pecan Pines #6)

Beck

One Year Later

I yanked my shirt over my head and ran my fingers quickly through my hair, barely glancing in the mirror.

The bed caught my eye, and I shook my head. Jesse was still sleeping, sprawled across the mattress like he didn’t have a care in the world.

A year of sharing mornings with him, and I’d stopped bothering to tiptoe around him. The clatter of dishes, the hum of the coffee maker, and the sound of running water failed to wake him at all.

Well, almost all of it.

The mattress creaked as I pressed a knee onto the edge of the bed. Jesse didn’t move.

I climbed over him, moving with deliberate slowness until I straddled his hips. My palms found the warm, bare skin of his stomach, and I couldn’t help but pause.

He was so solid beneath me. My fingers slid upward, tracing the faint ridges of his abs before splaying wide over his chest.

I gave it a gentle squeeze, grinning at how firm it felt under my hands. I could spend hours like this.

I leaned down, brushing my lips against his chest. I kissed my way up to his collarbone, then to the sensitive skin of his neck.

Jesse shifted slightly beneath me but still didn’t wake. My teeth grazed his skin, earning the smallest hitch in his breath.

The faint sheen of sweat from the night before still clung to him, and I licked along his collarbone, savoring the salty tang. My fingers trailed over his shoulders, pausing to knead the muscle there.

I let my hands roam, one tracing the line of his neck while the other drifted back to his shoulder, pressing lightly.

My mark on his nape caught my attention. My fingers brushed over it before I rested my head against his shoulder, breathing him in.

A soft sigh escaped me as I lay there, my head tucked into the crook of his neck.

It was a perfect moment, almost enough to make me forget what I’d come over here to do.

Then I felt his hands shift, slowly gliding up my thighs. They paused at my waist, his thumbs kneading small circles into my hips before sliding lower.

When they settled on my ass and gave it a firm squeeze, I grinned.

Jesse’s voice was groggy, thick with sleep. “You should stop waking me up like this.”

I nuzzled closer to his neck, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Why? Nothing else works on you.”

I propped myself up, pushing away from Jesse, though the warmth of his skin lingered on mine.

“We really need to get going early today,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “This is the first day of the fair, and if we don’t snag a good spot for our truck, we’ll be stuck in the back.”

Jesse raised a brow, his hand still resting on me, heavy and warm. “And you think waking me up like this is going to make us leave earlier?”

His fingers tightened their grip on my ass, kneading with just enough pressure to make my breath hitch.

“Jesse,” I warned, trying to sound firm, but it was hard when his hips shifted beneath me, grinding up against mine.

My body betrayed me, pressing down before I could stop it. His mouth found the curve of my neck, his lips trailing up to my jaw.

His hands drifted lower, fingers teasing dangerously close to my cleft. He rubbed against me through my pants, and a moan slipped out before I could swallow it down. Jesse’s smirk was infuriatingly obvious even without seeing it.

“Damn it,” I muttered, catching his wrist before he could go any further. “ I’ve got self control,” I said, though it sounded more like I was trying to convince myself.

Jesse’s grin widened. “Sure you do.”

I groaned, rolling off him. “No, seriously. Today’s important. You’ve got the smoker to prep too, remember?”

“Fine,” Jesse drawled, stretching lazily, his arms flexing in a way that made me bite the inside of my cheek. “But this conversation isn’t over.”

I ignored him, heading toward the kitchen to make myself a coffee. As I waited for the machine to sputter to life, my thoughts drifted.

Jesse’s insistence on sticking to his grandfather’s brisket recipe had always been a point of contention between us, until it wasn’t.

It was during the finals, where everything was on the line. He’d surprised me by incorporating some of my suggestions into the recipe, merging them with his grandfather’s to create something entirely new.

It had been a hit, of course, and I could tell Jesse was proud of how it turned out.

But when it came to the idea of adding it to the permanent menu, I was the one who hesitated.

I knew how important that recipe was to him. The thought of changing that, even slightly, didn’t sit right with me.

Jesse had been the one to push for a compromise. He’d suggested keeping it as a limited, seasonal offering instead, and it turned out to be the perfect choice.

Every time we brought it back, the crowds doubled.

I carried my coffee back to the room, leaning against the doorframe as I watched Jesse stretch.

“Hey,” I started, hesitant but curious. “What’s the story behind your grandfather’s brisket recipe?”

Jesse paused, turning to me with a quizzical look. “Hm? Why the sudden interest?”

I shrugged, taking a sip of my coffee. “Why not? Seems like as good a time as any.”

Jesse sat up, leaning his head against my shoulder as I settled back on the bed.

“Middle of the war,” he began. “My grandfather was still courting my grandmother. She made him swear that if he came back alive, he’d make his brisket for her. Said it was her one condition for saying yes to his proposal.”

His eyes softened. “So, he comes back, medals and all, and the first thing he does is make that brisket. Every single week after that, without fail, they had it for Sunday dinner. It became a tradition, something they passed down to my dad and then to me. Every bite, a reminder of their love and sacrifice.”

I blinked, a lump forming in my throat despite myself. Damn it, was I really getting misty over brisket?

Then I spotted the twitch at the corner of Jesse’s mouth.

“You’re such an ass,” I muttered, smacking his arm hard enough to make him flinch. “I almost believed you.”

He laughed, rubbing the spot. “What can I say? I like keeping you on your toes. But there’s some truth to it, you know,” he admitted. “That brisket? It’s just part of me now. I’ve been making it for so long, and people love it. Changing it never felt right.”

I watched Jesse, his usual teasing softened by a rare honesty. He had this way of holding onto what mattered: his family’s traditions, his values.

A year ago, I would have fought tooth and nail to change everything.

I thought I had to win every contest, every challenge, just to show I was more than the youngest son of the Silvercrest pack alpha.

But now, I wasn’t so sure it really mattered.

It wasn’t about trophies or being the best. It was about finding a place where I could finally breathe, a place where I didn’t have to keep proving myself.

Like Jesse, who could’ve been an enforcer but instead chose the crazy, chaotic life of running a food truck with me.

We still haven’t won any big competitions, but sitting here with him, I realized maybe we hadn’t lost anything at all.

Not everything needs to be perfect or special. Sometimes, being happy is enough.

And honestly? I was finally okay with that.

THE END

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