The Patriot A Small Town Romance - Jennifer Millikin Page 0,65
proving my point about being difficult. He removes the lid from the coffee and pauses for a fraction of a second to smell the black liquid before taking a sip.
Either he’s particular about his coffee or he takes pleasure in the moment before the first sip, the one where the steam curls over your nose and the scent informs your brain of what’s coming a millisecond before your taste buds do the job. It’s definitely not the former, because that’s not Wes’s style. Which means I’ve just discovered something insanely cute about him, and it makes me want to get out my shovel and pickaxe and start mining for more quirky gems.
I wait until his mouth is loaded up with a huge bite, then ask him what his nightmare was about. I do this on purpose to give him an excuse to not answer right away. I thought it was the considerate thing to do. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have said a damn word about the nightmare. Silent, brooding Wes from last night at the concert is back, only he took steroids during the absence and now he’s adding twitching jaw muscles to his foul mood.
“You don’t have to tell me anything, obviously. But seeing as how I was the person you woke up—”
His eyes fly to me. “I woke you up?” It’s a question, but it doesn’t come out like one. It sounds more like a horrified realization.
“Yes.” I’ll leave out the part where he kicked and hit me. It wasn’t like it was that hard. More like half-hearted blows from a person who has just been sedated but isn’t fully under yet.
He palms his forehead, leaning the weight of his head into his hand.
“Wes,” I reach out and brush my fingers over his arm. “Everything is okay.”
He gives me a derisive look, and it cuts me to the quick. “Everything is not okay, Dakota. You heard me having a nightmare.”
“So? People have nightmares all the time, Wes.”
He laughs once, the sound scornful. “Not the same as the ones I have.”
“What was yours about?” My voice is soft and calm, coaxing. Maybe if he talks about it, he’ll feel better.
He shakes his head. “There is no way I’d ever tell you.”
“Understandable.” I ball up the tinfoil from my burrito and toss it in the empty paper bag. “But maybe you should talk to somebody.”
Wes looks at the ceiling, his chest puffing up with a deep breath, and he slowly lets it go. “I’ll pass.”
I stand. I don’t know what my plans are for today but I’m not going to sit here and beg Wes to get help he doesn’t want. I’d have better luck showing my vacation pictures to a brick wall.
“I need to get ready for the day.” I reach for my jeans and remind myself how badly I need to do laundry. I looked online yesterday and found a laundromat nearby. As much as it’s going to suck, I’m going to have to spend a few hours there.
Wes stuffs the trash from our breakfast into the wastebasket. He looks down at the remaining food, pointing in disgust at the avocado toast.
“What is that?”
I’m so relieved that he seems to be taking a step toward an improved mood that I choose not to tease him for being the last millennial on the planet who doesn’t know about avocado toast. When I tell him what it is, he informs me avocados belong in guacamole.
I give him a look that conveys just how hopeless I believe him to be. “Now that that’s been cleared up…” I pull out a shirt and start for the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower.”
Wes grabs his perfectly folded shirt from its spot on top of his boots. I avert my gaze as he pulls it over his head because I refuse to be caught checking him out. Again.
“I’m late, and I’m going to get shit for it. I told my dad I’d move the herd today.” Wes pulls his phone from his back pocket and looks at it. “Warner called. Twice.”
I pause in the open bathroom door, my hand resting on the doorframe. “That’s good though, right? Not the part where you’re late, but the inference that you’re late because you slept over? Kinda ratchets up the rapid falling in love rigamarole.”
He smirks. “Rigamarole?”
“It’s a word.”
“I know. But I’ve never heard anyone use it besides my elderly grandfather.”
“Well, now you have.”
“The first time we met, you told me I was sitting all by