Throwaway by Heather Huffman Page A

what I meant,” she protested
half-heartedly. “I want to hear about Jesse James. Come on, you
promised.”
    “Did I?” he straightened, a mischievous glint
in his eye. “I wouldn’t want to break a promise.”
    He rolled onto his back, tucking Jessie
against his side as he decided where to begin. With a deep breath,
he launched into the known history of one of America’s most
notorious outlaws. Even the basics facts, like that he was born in
1847 in Clay County, Missouri sounded better when they were
delivered by his deep, rich voice.
    She tossed one leg over his and
absentmindedly traced lazy circles on his washboard stomach as she
listened to him spin a tale of a confused and angry young boy,
following his older brother into the ranks of Will Quantrill’s
raiders in the Civil War. Frank was the ruthless one; Jesse was the
one that captured the imagination of dime novelists. Maybe because
he seemed to regret hurting others. Maybe because he was young and
good-looking.
    He rattled off obscure facts and family trees
long into the night. Occasionally the narrative would be broken up
by playful banter or the random kiss. He never did get around to
telling her his theories on James’ staged death, and as she drifted
off to sleep, she promised herself she’d remember to ask him in the
morning.
    Only the tender rays of dawn brought a lazy
bought of lovemaking, not more discussions about a bygone bandit.
When they were up and dressed, they took off to explore the
gardens. Gabe remembered they never signed their names on the cave
walls, so that was their next stop. Jessie signed her name under
the initials assumed to belong to James. It just seemed
fitting.
    After another quick swim in the pool, they
ate a lunch of cheese and crackers with a bottle of Missouri wine
before whiling away the afternoon sprawled on the bed, talking
about anything and everything.
    She told him about Harmony being the smartest
woman she’d ever met and about the friendship she’d formed with
Vance over the years. Though more than five years her junior, he
had lately assumed the role of her protector. They talked about Dan
and what a good guy he was. Gabe told her about the guys at
work—which ones were jerks and which ones were decent.
    Under normal circumstances, Jessie would have
been getting restless by the second night. As it was, there was
still so much to learn about him. And there was always his laugh,
which seemed to come much more readily in their current setting.
She couldn’t get enough of that laugh.
    For someone who’d never spent more than the
random school fieldtrip away from the city, she found her new
surroundings both fascinating and peaceful. The sky at night was
black velvet, something that could never be achieved with the
lights from the city interfering. The stars sparkled merrily on
their inky backdrop. On their second night in the cabin, they
curled up in the porch swing and admired the stars as they
continued to share anything that came to mind.
    The next morning brought with it unwelcome
reminders that their time at the cabin was finite. This would be
their last full day together. They ate a breakfast of fresh fruit
and took a meandering walk in the gardens before he took her on a
longer trek to see the old mill. Of course, he knew the history of
that, too. It was evermore obvious to Jessie he’d brought her to
his home.
    It was also evermore obvious to Jessie that
she didn’t want to go back to St. Louis. She liked strolling down a
dirt road with her hand in his. But as the day crept on, it became
harder to ignore the thought worming its way to the front of her
mind. Gabe was going to be furious with her when he found out what
she had asked Spence for.
    There probably wasn’t any way to make him
understand why she felt the need to take care of this herself. He’d
probably spout all kinds of reasons why she should let him rescue
her. Maybe he’d be right—she was crazy.
    But something deep in her bones longed