Page 19 of Up in Smoke (The Bunkhouse #3)

TRIPP

MESA KATE RILEY.

Mesa

I’m guessing you opened your trunk

I did.

Hope you’ve got a shop vac and an apology cake. Vanilla or else.

Mesa

The soil bag broke and I didn’t have time to clean it yet. My bad!! Next time you let me borrow the Bronco I’ll put down a damn tarp

Like that’ll help.

There’s 80 pounds of fucking dirt back here.

Mesa

I know *laughing crying emoji*

Didn’t take you for a vanilla guy, but okay.

Thanks I think?

I’m not a vanilla guy. I like vanilla cake.

Mesa

Right. Noted.

Where are you? It’s getting late

Mesa

I told you I can’t come. I have work to do.

Don’t even. I will literally come get your ass.

Mesa

Haha I’m kidding. Just left my house. Be there in 5.

Can you bring my charger? I think I left it at your place a couple days ago when we stained your pierogi

Mesa

Pergola. *eye roll emoji*

Whatever. Just check the plug by your toaster

Mesa

I already grabbed it lol how is your phone not dead af right now

Swiped Heston’s charger and used it until he stole it back this morning. Running on 3% here

Mesa

What a travesty. Stay strong. *salute emoji*

*middle finger emoji*

Stop texting and driving

“I thought this was supposed to stay chill,” Heston says.

With one hand in the front pocket of my jeans and a bottle of beer in the other, I lean my shoulder against the corner at the end of the hallway. We’ve been standing here, wide-eyed and watching the chaos ensue for a good five minutes.

I wince and suck a breath in through my teeth when the lamp on the side table by the couch tips over and clangs against the rug covering the hardwood floor.

Luckily, it doesn’t shatter. The guy that bumped into it quickly scoops it up and puts it back in its place before turning back around and resuming his animated storytelling to a group of friends.

A steel guitar blares from the jukebox. Quarters bounce into shallow tumblers on the kitchen counter. My poor pool table has become a makeshift stage of sorts.

“We’re going to have to nix the bring a friend privileges,” I mumble.

“No shit,” Heston huffs. “As long as it doesn’t apply to you, huh?”

I quirk an eyebrow but then chuckle when I realize he’s referring to Mesa, who just walked through the front door. She smiles in our direction with a small wave, then stops by the fridge before walking over to us.

Her hair is down, falling in deep red waves to the middle of her back. Her black cropped t-shirt says do not give me a cigarette no matter what I say in small white letters on the front. I laugh through my nose while palming the crown of my hat to adjust it.

When she turns our way, I try not to get too caught up staring. It’s no secret that Mesa is a beautiful girl, and I can handle having a pretty friend that every guy in the room is checking out right now.

What really bothers me is how conflicted I am—teetering back and forth between sincerely caring about her and wanting to protect one of the coolest friendships I’ve ever had, while also losing my mind over more indecent thoughts.

It’s been over a week of torture since I stayed over at her place.

The backyard to-do list, movie, and late-night chats were nothing out of the ordinary.

But we talked about things that should have made me sick to my stomach instead of happy to tell her.

Then, I woke up with her in my arms, and I have not stopped thinking about for a fucking millisecond ever since.

No-strings sex and genuine friendship go together like tight pants and Thanksgiving dinner. But that fact doesn’t make me want to touch her again any less.

I wish it made me stop thinking about her accidental confession that she let slip at the end of the baseball game over a month ago, too. It’s all adding up to be too much for my resolve to handle. There’s nothing I can do about it though, so I grin and bear it.

Selfishly getting my rocks off isn’t worth losing her. We’ve gotten so close recently, and I’d miss her way too much.

After finally stepping up beside me, Mesa samples the drink that she got from the kitchen. Her nose scrunches up, and she looks like she wishes she could sprint outside and spit it in the dirt instead of swallowing.

I hold mine toward her. “Switch?”

“Is it still cold?”

“Yep. Opened it right before you got here.”

She smiles, taking the beer from me and handing me hers. We clink them together in a cheers and both take a sip. I’m not picky when it comes to getting buzzed, but I’ll admit the wine cooler she gave me does taste like straight ass.

I can only pretend to like it for so long, so I down it pretty quick. The good stuff is outside, so I give Heston a nod in that direction. He follows as I spin Mesa away from me, place my hands on her shoulders, and lead her to the backyard.

The rest of our crew is sitting under a string of lights at the patio table. It’s decorated with wrinkled playing cards, two liquor bottles, and several mismatched shot glasses. Heston takes the chair by Gage and I claim the one by Warren.

Mesa hugs Savannah, who’s sitting on Warren’s lap. “Does Blythe have to work tonight?”

“Yes,” Sav answers her with a sigh. “I’m so proud that you’re not hunched over your laptop and burning the midnight oil right now.”

I couldn’t agree more. Never in my life have I seen anyone work as hard as Mesa does. Sunup to sundown some days. Part of me adores her drive. Another part of me worries when she’s hit with a migraine and I can visibly detect how tense she is.

Mesa reaches for a bottle of whiskey. After pouring two shots, she hands one to Savannah and then backs up to sit on my knee. The music from inside filters out around us. She flips her hair over to one side, and I absentmindedly pull down the bottom of her shirt that got bunched up in the back.

“I’ll drink to that,” Mesa says, holding up her shot.

Savannah throws hers back. Mesa sips down half, turns her upper body, and hands me the remainder of the shot. Heston and I make eye contact while I finish the whiskey off for her.

He wants so badly to roll his eyes at the scene in front of him. I flip him the bird.

“You’re wearing a shirt,” Mesa whispers to me and softly places her palm on my forehead to check for a fever. “Everything okay?”

I shake my head with a smirk. “Smartass.”

She straightens her back, proud of her little joke, then turns away from me again.

The girls start chatting while I lean forward.

My right hand is keeping Mesa steady at her hip, and my left reaches for a pile of cards.

It doesn’t take long for me to notice both Warren and Gage joining in on Heston’s staring.

They’re all looking at me like I just ate a handful of live worms. Have they never seen a girl use a guy’s leg when there are no chairs left? Mesa and I are comfortable around each other, and I don’t see what the big deal is.

“What?” I scoff, tossing the soggy cards in my hand back to the table once I realize someone definitely spilled their drink on them.

The guys don’t answer me because Mesa spins on my knee until both of her legs are between mine again. She leans toward my chest, holds her phone in front of us, and I look down at the screen to see a picture of a shelf and several plants on the floor of her living room.

“I completely forgot to show you this disaster,” she says.

I throw my head back in a laugh, and she softly nudges my ribs with her elbow.

“How the hell did you manage that again?” I ask.

“I swear the last time I put it back up, my work was rock solid. The shelf is possessed or something.”

This is the third time in as many weeks that thing has failed to stay secured to the wall. She did her best to rig it back up each time, but I think I’m going to have to go repair the old holes and then try to find the studs for her.

“I’ll fix it for you.”

Mesa leans away from my chest. “Thanks, T.”

All three guys are trying not to laugh, and I want to stick around for their teasing like I want to use a chunk of cactus for a loofah.

“You wanna go inside and get into some good trouble or stay out here?” I ask Mesa.

She pinches the brim of my hat between her fingers and thumb to straighten it. I almost take it off and put it on her head just to see how big it is on her and make her laugh. But that’s just my wild side begging to be set free on a night like this.

I like doing things I’m not supposed to do. Things like putting my cowboy hat on a girl like her. It’s a claim—one I have no business making.

Just to be safe, I ignore my bad habit of chasing mischief and keep it on.

“Inside,” she answers with an adventurous gleam in her eye.

If she’d rather stay out here and chill, I wouldn’t have had any problem with that. But two hours later, as I try to pull her down from where she’s standing on the pool table, I can’t help but love the fact that this was her choice instead.

She has a wild side that begs to be set free, too. Although at this moment, her eyes have grown tired. My social battery is running out, and I’m surprised Heston hasn’t shut this whole thing down yet.

With my hands around Mesa’s hips, I attempt to bring her back to the ground. Instead of going along with it, she grabs my shoulders and spins me around to face away from her so that she can hop on my back.

I shake my head with an amused laugh. The crowd has died down significantly, but the few pods of people remaining give us a look as I weave through them toward the hallway. Her arms loop around my neck, and I hook my hands around the backs of her knees.

“What happened to your shoes?” I ask.

She wiggles her white painted toes, making the dainty ankle bracelet on her right foot shimmer.

“They were hurting me. I left them in your closet when I stole your hoodie a while ago.”

When I make it to my room and close the door, I back up to the bed and let her flop backward. She bounces off the mattress with a giggle and wastes no time pulling back the covers to snuggle in.

The angel on my shoulder reminds me that having her sleep in the loft would probably be more friend-like . I tell it to fuck right off.

“I won’t make it weird if you don’t,” she says sleepily, reading my mind.

I hang my hat, turn off the light, and take off my jeans. I can’t see Mesa in the dark, but I hear her dramatic yawn. If I were entirely sober, I’d think better of dropping into bed next to her.

She’s facing away from me with one cheek resting on her bent arm. I roll to my stomach and tuck my arms under the pillow. A second later, the comforter swishes, and I feel a tap on my shoulder.

I lift my head to see her looking at me. She’s balled up in the covers with her hands tucked under her chin. I turn toward her on my side and prop my head up on my fist.

“I’m not shit-faced,” she says.

I chuckle quietly. “I know. Very mature of you.”

After the half of a whiskey shot on the patio, I watched her most of the night. She was still having fun, but she only periodically sipped on one drink. My eyes have adjusted enough to the darkness now that I can see her smile.

“I need to talk to you,” she confesses.

“Right now?” I clench my jaw when she nods. “Okay. About what?”

I’m worried she’ll bring up that we got a little too comfortable tonight. And last week at her place. And probably a few other times in between. I’m also worried that she won’t bring it up. It’s a weird feeling, but I kind of want to talk to her about it.

“How do you do it? The flings. The fun stuff without getting attached right away and then getting your feelings hurt?”

I laugh with a shrug, but she frowns and slaps my shoulder, so I come up with some sort of answer. “There’s not much to it. Being honest with the other person.”

“That simple?”

“Yes and no.” My eyes narrow. “I guess you also have to make sure the other person wants the same thing as you. I don’t know. You eventually learn to pick out the right ones pretty easily to avoid problems afterward.”

Why do I feel like a douchebag explaining this to her? I have no shame in my game. I don’t call girls by the wrong name or disrespect them. I’m always up-front. I just don’t want anything serious. It’s never bothered me until now, and I hope Mesa doesn’t think it makes me a piece of shit.

“Problems afterward,” she laughs, repeating my words.

“You know what I mean.”

“Kind of. I want to try it.” Her voice grows softer. “Maybe you could show me how.”

My heart jumps into my throat. I fight for my next breath like her words stole all the available oxygen out of the room. My body reacts with an increased heart rate like I’ve just won the lottery. The logical part of my brain vibrates with sheer panic.

“I had an epiphany out there tonight,” she adds before I can verbally respond to the bomb she just dropped. “What good is having a friend with a cheat code for great sex that doesn’t lead to heartbreak if I can’t take advantage of it?”

Isn’t this what I wanted all along? To help her blow off some steam? I should be agreeing to show her the ropes. Right here and now.

Instead, a sharp stab in my chest stops me, and I muster enough composure to shoot it down.

“I’m not sure that’d be a good idea.”

“Please? I want to test it out. Maybe that’s what I’ve been missing all this time. I need this.”

The hand at my side twitches with the desire to reach out and pull her toward me. “You don’t think it’d mess up what we’ve got? Get too complicated?”

“Nah,” she says with a sigh. “I think this way is better, actually. If we get it out of the way, then it won’t be hanging over our heads anymore.”

I sit up. “It’s hanging over your head?”

Mesa rolls to her back and looks up at me. “Well, yeah, a little bit. It’s like an elephant in the room since I blurted out my little problem at the baseball game we went to. I want to squash it so that we can just keep being friends and not think about it anymore, you know?”

I take a deep breath and run a hand through my hair. “I mean . . . if it’s really what you want, then I can show you.”

She smiles and wiggles in her spot to get more comfortable. The covers are pulled back up to her chin, and she closes her eyes.

“Perfect,” she whispers. “The next time we go out or have a party, we’ll find the perfect guy. Then you can tell me exactly what to do.”

Oh.