The Patriot A Small Town Romance - Jennifer Millikin Page 0,42

a part of me I keep locked away, and for good reason. She makes me lose control, and losing control means feeling. I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to feel. I don’t want to experience my last mission. I want to keep it all locked up tight. Dakota is a threat to that desire, and yet I can’t force myself to push her away like I should. No, instead I asked her to marry me in the most unromantic and unceremonious way possible. What an asshole.

I finish my beer, toss it in the trash, and leave the kitchen. I stop in the living room and peek out, just to see if Dakota’s here yet. She told my dad she’d come, but after last weekend at the bar, I’m not so sure. All week long I wanted to call her, but I’ve been too chickenshit.

A swing of blonde hair catches my eye. Jessie’s out on the front porch, sitting in a chair with her knees pulled up to her chest.

She looks up when I step outside. “Hey, Wes.”

Her unlined skin, her scattering of freckles and pimples, remind me of how young she is. When I was seventeen, I was getting shit-faced at desert parties and leading girls to my truck bed for make-out sessions where I would go as far as they would let me. Is that what she’s doing? Lying down in some horny teenager’s truck when we think she’s at her friends’ house?

The big brother in me shifts into protective mode. It was okay for me to do that with girls, but it’s not okay for my baby sister to be the girl doing that. Because it’s just… not. Pushing aside that thought, and the realization that many of those girls who laid in my truck bed likely had a protective brother too, I settle down next to Jessie.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” I ask her.

She gathers her long hair over one shoulder and starts braiding. Instead of answering, she shrugs.

“Right.” I nod. “The shrug. A universal teenage response. I believe I was a grunter.” I make the sound, deep and low in my throat, and am rewarded with a half-smile from her. “Anything you want to talk about?” I’m hopeful now that I got fifty-percent of a smile. And knowing Calamity Jessie, it could be anything.

She gives me a look of horror, like she can’t believe I’d dare to ask her to talk. Her cheeks turn pink, and she shakes her head.

Well, shit. And I thought I was making progress.

In the distance, a car catches my eye. Dakota.

It rained during the night and tamped down the dirt, so there’s not much dust from the approaching car. I lean forward, watching the car get closer, my heartbeats picking up the pace.

“And here I thought you came out here to talk to me,” Jessie says, a smirk the size of our property in her voice.

“I did,” I respond, my eyes on Dakota’s SUV.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Jessie counters, moving her chin back and forth in that sassy way only a teenager can accomplish. I’d probably tweak my neck if I tried that.

The vehicle rolls to a stop. My heart that had been beating so furiously also comes to a stop, like my whole body is holding its breath.

Dakota gets out of the car, her eyes zeroing in on me. She bites down on the side of her lower lip, her chest rising and falling with a deep breath. She stands there, staring at me, and the whole world melts away. It’s only me and her and the electricity crackling between us.

Dakota’s eyes stay locked on me. I get up from my chair, my eyes falling to the ground for just a moment’s reprieve from the intensity.

“She looks gorgeous,” Jessie comments wistfully. Somewhere in my brain, I realize I should tell Jessie she is beautiful too, but I have the confusing feeling that I’m underwater. Somehow, in the landlocked state of Arizona, I’m drowning in an ocean.

“I’ll be right back,” I murmur, walking across the porch and down the stairs.

“Hey,” I call out, meeting Dakota halfway between her car and the front steps. She’s wearing a dress, something that stops mid-thigh and swishes around her legs when she walks. I swallow hard, trying to get rid of the lump of embarrassment in my throat. She had every right to tell me to go fuck myself.

“Nice to see you again.” My tone is too rigid. The words