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Jenna Jessop happened to me. And now she has me making a bucket list of things to do with her, like binge-watch Christmas movies, go ice skating in town, bake cookies, and other stuff I never thought I’d catch myself doing, much less enjoying. I never thought those words would be coming out of my mouth, but here we are. The truth is, I’d probably do anything for Jenna. I knew that night in Vegas there wasn’t much I wouldn’t do for her.
If you asked me a month ago if I believed in love at first sight, I’d say you were crazy. But here I am, fallen head over heels for her after just one night. There’s something there with her, and there’s no denying it. I can’t explain it, much less understand it. With her, I feel like I’m on a roller coaster, riding it, and I don’t want it to stop. With her, things are fun again. I catch myself smiling and laughing. Life is just easier with her.
The problem is that she’s Tucker’s sister. And while Tucker isn’t thrilled about our new pairing, he’s not making a big deal about it. Which is wild, considering this is Tucker. Tucker is extremely protective of his family, and I never thought he’d even remotely be okay with this.
The snow hasn’t stopped coming down all day, and we’re in for a big storm later. While I’ve been keeping the porch to the cabin clear so we can get more firewood, it’s not letting up. I don’t mind being snowed in with Jenna at all.
To the outside world, this probably looks just like a normal Christmas, with normal people. But this is far from normal to me. This is the first time in a long time that I’ve even semi-enjoyed Christmas. Christmas stopped being fun for me a very long time ago. Probably around the time my family started falling apart and when hiding out during the holidays became the norm for me.
The Christmas tree we decorated in the corner by the window glows softly, its crooked star leaning just enough to make me smile. I tried for about twenty minutes to get it right, and then I gave up. That star is going to do whatever it wants. The popcorn strings droop, reminding me of how much fun we had eating the popcorn while we made it. Then I see the pile of sugar cookies in the glass jar on the counter. We even bought a pickle ornament at the store and had fun hiding it.
Nothing is perfect. Just like that star on the tree. You can try as hard as you can, but sometimes life is still going to be messy. But really, if this is teaching me anything, it’s what it is. It sure feels messy to me right now. In the best way possible.
Jenna sighs in contentment, breaking me out of my thoughts, and she curls deeper into the corner of the couch, a blanket pulled over her legs and a glass of red wine in her hand. A cheesy Christmas movie plays on the television, but neither of us is paying attention anymore.
She glances over and catches me staring. “You’ve been rubbing your shoulder for the last ten minutes.”
I stop mid-circle. “It’s nothing.”
She raises an eyebrow. “I produce television for a living.”
“And?” I tease.
“My job is reading people.”
I chuckle. “And right now you’re reading, what?”
“A stubborn cowboy pretending he doesn’t hurt.”
I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
“Liar. Come here and let me massage your back and shoulder.”
I grin despite myself. “You always this bossy?”
“Only when I’m right,” she says, setting her wine down on the table beside her.
The silence stretches until I sigh in defeat and pain, scooting closer and sitting in front of her on the floor. She leans forward to massage my shoulders, and I’ll admit, it feels good.
“My shoulder’s just acting up,” I say with a grunt.
“From fixing fences and chasing cattle with Jack and Tucker?”
I bark out a laugh. “No. It’s been a mess long before that.”
“Do you get hurt a lot bull riding?” she asks as she moves her hands, applying perfect pressure.
My eyes drift closed, feeling better already, then I look back at her. “Years of letting two-thousand-pound bulls throw me around like a rag doll.”
She smiles at the rag doll reference, but it fades when she realizes I’m not joking.
“I’ve had surgery twice.”
Her hands pause for a second, then she resumes.
“My knee clicks every time I stand up, and my ribs healed crooked.”
“Why do you keep doing it?” she asks softly.
