Page 16 of Rush Turner (Seals on Fraiser Mountain #6)

Jessa

I woke up to sunlight streaming through the thin curtains and the faint, distant bleating of goats who thought breakfast was late.

Rush was gone. No note, no warm spot on the pillow beside me—just the faint scent of his cologne and the way my entire body ached in the best possible way.

I stretched, grinning like a fool until a knock rattled the bedroom door.

“Jessa!” Jeremy’s voice. “The goats are fighting the chickens again!”

Of course they were.

I threw on jeans and an old T-shirt, splashed my face at the sink, and opened the door to find Jeremy standing there, arms crossed, suspiciously squinting at me.

“What?” I asked, sidestepping him.

“You look different,” he accused.

“Oh yeah?” I grabbed a hair tie and wrangled my hair into a messy bun. “Different how?”

“You’re smiling weird. Did Rush sleep over?”

I nearly choked on my own spit. “What? Jeremy Monroe, go feed the goats before they eat the chicken feed again!”

He narrowed his eyes, suspicious as a bloodhound, but stomped down the hall muttering something about grown-ups being weird .

I padded into the kitchen where Aunt Marie was already at the stove, flipping pancakes with more force than necessary. She didn’t look up when she said, “Hope he at least put the trash out before he snuck out this morning.”

I froze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She snorted. “Mhm. You might be able to fool the kids. Not me, baby girl.”

I sighed, half embarrassed, half warm all over again. “I’ll take the trash out next time.”

She pointed her spatula at me. “Darn right you will.”

I felt like a teenager getting caught sneaking out of the house.

Rush

Back at the garage, I thought I’d slip in unnoticed. The guys were already there, leaning on hoods, coffee mugs in hand, shooting the breeze.

No such luck.

Fraiser spotted me first, one brow arched high enough to touch his hairline. “Well, well. Look who’s back from his farm field trip.”

Max leaned over the hood of a Mustang, smirking. “Get lost on the way home, Turner? Or just busy doing… chores?”

Jack just barked out a laugh. “Hey, Rush—got any goat hair stuck in your zipper?”

“Shut up,” I said, but I was grinning. Couldn’t help it.

When they realized how serious I was, they finally let up.

Didn’t matter. I’d take the ribbing a thousand times over. Because last night, and Jessa?

She was worth every second.