The Patriot A Small Town Romance - Jennifer Millikin Page 0,57
Wes and I agreed to continue on with our two-week whirlwind courtship. So far, it looks like this:
Day One: Wes picks me up at the hotel. We eat dinner at a place just outside of town. I have a burger. Wes has a steak (shocker!). Conversation is weak and I can’t figure out why. Wes acts like he didn’t just kiss me the night before. I get that it was for the sake of our scheme, but you’d think it would put us smack in the middle of friendly familiarity. Apparently not. He drops me off at the hotel. A minute later he texts me and apologizes for his weird behavior, blaming it on not sleeping well. I tell him to put down his phone and focus on driving.
Day Two: We see a movie. No chance for conversation.
Day Three: Conversation shows real improvement, which might not be saying much because the bar was set pretty low. There was nowhere to go but up. We go to a bar for a drink and Wes tells me funny stories about growing up with two brothers, and says that Jessie was a shock to everybody, especially his parents who miscarried four babies after Wyatt. I feel uncomfortable knowing this personal information about Juliette and Beau, and also my heart hurts for them. When Wes drops me at my hotel, he high-fives me. I feel annoyed. Once upon a time, he was inside me and so the bro-ish behavior feels beneath me.
Day Four: Happening right now.
Wes knocks on my hotel room door and I answer. He’s wearing sweats and a T-shirt, and the first thing I think is that it’s incredibly unfair how good he looks when he’s not even trying.
I step back and he walks in, bringing with him the smell of body wash. A paperback book is tucked under his arm. He settles at the small table in the corner. Behind me, the heavy hotel door closes loudly.
I climb on top of the made bed and sit cross-legged. I’m wearing sweats too, and my hair is piled on top of my head.
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Wes says, his gaze focused on the wall beside the bed.
I follow his stare to where I’ve tacked up a map of Sierra Grande and a copy I made of Brandt’s blueprints for The Orchard. I’ve drawn on the blueprint in bright colors, mostly landscaping ideas and games, and a book drop in the shape of a large birdcage. “I took the liberty of appropriating the wall space for my use. I’m sure the hotel won’t mind as long as I put their picture back on the wall when I’m done.” I glance down at the generic picture that used to hang on the wall but now leans against it.
“You did your research,” he says, nodding to a sheet of paper taped to the bottom of the Sierra Grande map.
My chest swells at the pride in his voice, eating up his praise like a kitten lapping milk. I climb off the bed and go to the paper, running my hands over the block letters written in black Sharpie. “I was brainstorming ideas for what to name the project. In my research about Arizona I kept seeing the five C’s of Arizona.” I bounce a fingertip off each C: cotton, copper, cattle, citrus, and climate. “But I couldn’t get the pecan trees out of my head, so I went with The Orchard.”
“The sad-looking pecan trees took precedence over what makes Arizona’s economy?” He asks the question with a smirk, but his tone holds wonder.
“I already told you, those pecan trees are special and I’m not afraid to give them what they need to help them flourish. You see some derelict trees, but I see potential.” I shrug and sit back down on the bed. I’m three minutes late for The Bachelorette, so I grab the remote and turn on the TV.
Wes spends a nanosecond looking at the screen, then rolls his eyes and opens his book.
“Don’t act like you’re too good for this show,” I tell him.
He doesn’t respond, but he does smile. I peek at his book. Grisham. I was expecting Louis L’Amour, which makes me giggle and Wes glances at me. I shake my head at him, indicating it’s nothing, and turn my attention back to the TV.
Fifteen minutes in, I catch him watching. “Ohhhh,” I tease. “Someone likes the show they acted too good for?”