Sweet and Salty (Marshall My Heart #1)

39. Chapter Thirty-Nine

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

J esse

Two hours later, I stand in the paddock with Einstein lying at my feet. He’s a floppy, happy sweetheart of a dog. Cree is still a good five feet away from me, but we’ve been making progress. Carrots help my case.

I hear Laura’s car in the driveway and my heart settles from my stomach back into my chest. I’ve felt unmoored all day, but now everything clicks into place. “Hey!” I wave to her like a damned fool, but I don’t care.

“Hey!” She walks toward me, still dressed for work in hot pink chef’s pants and a loose-fitting T-shirt with a dancing toast printed on it. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to get your donkey to behave.”

Laura snorts and swings herself up onto the top rung of the paddock fence. “Good luck. I always thought I had a way with animals, but Cree stymies me at every turn. Thank goodness you’re here, or I’d never be able to halter her.”

There is an undertone of bitterness in her voice that irks the hell out of me. She doesn’t see what I do. She doesn’t see how much Cree loves her. “Come here.”

“What?”

“Come here.” I open my arms and she hops off the fence, wary but willing. “I’ll show you all my tricks.”

“I thought I’d seen all of your tricks.” Her mouth curves in a coy smile that sends heat shooting toward my cock.

I lean in and kiss her neck, letting my lips linger just below her ear. “Not all, angel.”

She shivers but presses her lips into a prim line and points to the donkey. “Stay on task, please.”

I hand her the halter and lead rope, and whistle a little to myself.

“Is that ‘Hello, Young Lovers’ from The King and I ?” Laura asks from the corner of her mouth.

I shrug. “Cree likes showtunes. Don’t be judgy.”

“I’m not being judgy. I’m irritated that my donkey likes you more than me.”

The donkey in question, begrudgingly turns her head to acknowledge us and walks as slowly as she possibly can until she busses my hand, looking for the carrots. But I’ve already slipped them into the pocket of Laura’s chef pants. Cree huffs with indignation, then turns and nuzzles Laura’s pocket.

I nudge Laura’s hip with mine. “You sure she likes me more? You’re the one who saved her. Don’t think for a second that she forgets that. Animals always have a sense of who will care about them. Who is sweet and loving and kind.”

I don’t think she hears me, since she’s so wrapped in Cree’s attention. An expression of delighted surprise flares across Laura's face, but she keeps her energy neutral as she drapes the rope across the donkey’s withers. Then she removes the carrot from her pocket and feeds it to Cree as she slips the halter up and over the donkey’s wide, velvety ears.

“I did it!” she exclaims softly. She leads Lucretia Borgia around the paddock before unhitching her and then turning to me and throwing her arms around my neck. “Thank you! You’re like a donkey whisperer.”

“That’s definitely going to be my new nickname. We’re the Donkey Whisperer and the Frosting Monkey.” I bend down and kiss her, light and soft, happy to share in the warmth of her proximity.

And that’s the moment I know. Unequivocally, unassailably.

This woman is the only one I will ever need or ever want. Whatever I thought I called love in the past, it pales in comparison to everything I feel for Laura Marshall.

But I can’t tell her. I can’t make this permanent. I’m shocked that no one has called me out on my lies by now, and it’s only going to get worse. The odds of us winning at trial are lower than escaping the pits of Hades, so I’ll never get my life back. I’ll be stuck lying about who I am here forever. I won’t be a veterinarian. I won’t be worthy of Laura.

Even worse, what if the Macks come after me? Or Esme? I’d rather die than put Laura in danger. I’m fucked.

With her body snuggled against me, she says softly, “I love you, Jesse.”

My body goes numb and rigid and somehow elated all at once. I’m only going to hurt her. This is wrong. The only kind thing is to let her go, gently, now, before things go any further. Because I can’t even tell her my real name, and Laura has been let down enough times. Because I’m not going to stay, and Laura is a hometown girl, through and through. I could never deserve her trust if I can’t open up to her.

“Jesse?” she asks, and I hear the soft plea in her voice. I hear it, and I hate it about myself. Because if I tell her the truth, who I am, what I’ve done, or that I love her so much, she’ll want a promise from me that I can’t give.

Yes, I am most definitely headed straight for that special hell. On a bullet train, like the one from the Brad Pitt movie where everyone dies in dramatic fashion.

I cup her face between my palms and focus my gaze on her. I know I can’t telepathically transmit anything to her that will make this better, but I have to try. “Laura—”

Einstein barks loudly, his tail alert and snout pointed toward my cabin. Laura’s nose wrinkles, like she’s going to sneeze. “Do you smell smoke?”

We turn toward the tree line to see the flames rising into the sky.