never heard a Hank Williams song, at least not to her knowledge.
Cole studied her face for a second. “You’ve never listened to Hank, have you?”
“No.” She ducked. “Am I banished from the hayloft?”
He shook his head. “And you call yourself a cowgirl. I’m shocked.”
“Again, I don’t call myself a cowgirl. You do!”
“Wow.” He kept shaking his head, a grin sneaking out at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know you like I thought I did. What else have you never done?” He cringed. “And please don’t tell me something like you’ve never ridden bareback. That could be grounds for immediate Whisper Creek banishment.”
Jess laughed. “Phew. I’ve totally done bareback. I was six, and it was a Shetland, but it counts, right?”
“I’ll give you a pass on that.”
“Okay, let’s see. What have I never done? I’ve never climbed into a hayloft with a bridesmaid dress on.”
“Good start. What’s something else?”
Jess shivered, but wasn’t cold. “I’ve never drunk a Corona in a hayloft, after a wedding, with a best man.”
Or wished I could stay up here all night long with one. He laughed. “You are seriously hayloft impaired.”
“Clearly.” She looked around, breathing in the intoxicating scent of warm hay stacked all around them. Soft lights from the stable below filtered up through the trapdoor where they’d come up, and the moonlight from the big window at the end of the barn danced shadows on the hay.
She cleared her throat. “I’m trying not to think about how many girls you’ve invited up into this very hayloft.”
“Not one.”
“Right.” She raised her eyebrows. “Not possible.”
He shrugged. “It’s true. I swear on a stack of Michael Jackson CDs that you’re the first woman I’ve ever brought up into this hayloft.”
“Really?” Jess smiled, feeling a glow build inside of her. Then she caught the smile he was trying to hide, and the glow was doused with a sudden realization.
She socked him softly. “This barn’s only two years old.”
“I answered the question honestly, didn’t I?” He grinned.
“Touché. All right. Fine. How about you? What’s one of your never-evers?”
“Let’s see. I’ve never been skydiving.”
“Have you ever wanted to go skydiving?”
“No. I’m not particularly suicidal, usually.” He lifted his bottle. “Your turn. What’s something real that you’ve never done?”
Jess turned her bottle in her hand. What to choose? Her list of never-evers was way longer than she’d ever want anyone to know. I’ve never…had a father…gone home for Christmas…owned a passport…been engaged…been in love…envisioned children as part of my future.
She shook her head. No, none of that would fly here. “I’ve never had a Krispy Kreme donut.”
“Ooh, now we’re digging deep, are we?” He set his beer down and crossed his hands behind his head. “Come on, cowgirl. Something real.”
“I don’t know if I like this game. You go first.”
“Okay. I will.” He looked at her steadily, his gaze drawing an invisible thread between them. “I’ve never been in love.”
She put her hand to her chest. “Jeez, Cole. Talk about pulling out the ace.”
“I know.” He shrugged. “But it’s true.”
“You’ve never been in love? Really? Carefree High’s Most Popular? Best Eyes? Best Hair? Best Tractor?”
He laughed. “We did not have that last one.”
“Best cow?”
“That would have gone to Jenny. Her cow used to win all the ribbons. And I’m serious. I know maybe it’s shocking, but—it’s never happened to me.”
Jess gulped, but tried to cover it with a quip. “Wow. And you’re kind of getting up there in age, cowboy.”
“How about you?” he asked, ignoring her. “Have you ever been madly, deeply in love?”
She paused. “Madly, yes, as in completely nuts. Deeply? No.”
“Really?”
“Truly.”
“Huh.” He took a drink. “Still, I bet you’ve left a string of broken hearts in your wake.”
Jess shook her head. “I’m not really the heartbreaker type.”
He took a deep breath, meeting her eyes, then looking down. “All right. No more big, deep questions—for now, anyway. What’s your favorite dinner?”