Cowgirls Don't Cry(4)

Ragging on Jessie. They’d both ignored Luke, and Brandt figured Jessie had probably thrown it out to keep the peace with her husband. Warmth expanded in his chest even as he called himself ten kinds of fool for feeling that spark of pleasure.

He scrutinized the inside of the truck cab for anything else that might belong to her before he zipped up the purse and jogged back to his pickup.

Jessie had wedged herself in the corner. Relief swept over her when he tossed the purse in her lap.

“Thank you.”


“You wanna check to see if anything is missing?”


“No. Just take me home.”


He let her be, even when he wanted to assure her that Mike’s reaction was a result of booze and pot, not a reaction to her. They’d barely driven two miles when he heard Jessie sniffle. Brandt glanced over at her. “Jess. Baby. Please. Don’t cry. I swear to God you’re killin’ me here.”


Her voice was a raw rasp. “Chin up, buck up, right? Be strong, be tough. Don’t snivel. No man likes a crybaby. Yeah. I know. I’ve heard that a time or fifty.”


That wasn’t what he’d meant and her response jabbed that raw wound in his gut again. Before he could explain, Jessie said, “Do you wanna know something? Tonight was supposed to be ‘the night’ when I’d finally…” She sniffled again. “God. How pathetic is it that I had to build up my courage to do it and this is how it turned out? How f*cking pathetic that I’m twenty-seven years old and I haven’t been with any man besides Luke?”


“Ever?” spewed out of his mouth before he could stop it. Brandt knew Jessie hadn’t dated at all during the year they grieved together over Luke. But he hadn’t expected she’d stayed celibate during the months he hadn’t seen her, especially since he’d heard she’d been out, hitting the local honky-tonks.

It burned his ass to think her experience with that little f*cking prick Mike was her first foray into reclaiming a sexual part of herself.

Her soft sigh tempered his anger. “Yes, Luke was my first, my only, but we were married for two years. So I’m not…inexperienced as much as I’m out of practice.”


Brandt wanted to tell her to shut up as much as he wanted her to keep talking.

“I miss sex. A lot.”


She intended to torture him all right.

“Does it make me sound like a horny widow if I admit I want that body-to-body connection? I can get myself off with my vibrator a dozen times a day if I want. But it’s not the same, is it?”


I can demonstrate the difference, if you want.

She was quiet for a minute or so, and Brandt thought she’d fallen asleep. But her voice broke into his thoughts.

“When was the last time you had sex?”


It’d been a few weeks, which didn’t compare to the two years she’d gone without.

“So out there in the dating world, does oral sex count as real sex? Because I’m thinking if I didn’t get off, even if he did, then it shouldn’t count as sex.”


“I cannot believe we’re havin’ this conversation.” He sensed her studying him, but he kept his eyes on the road.

“Well, it is a pretty one-sided conversation, Brandt.” She paused again. “Think Mike will tell everyone we did the nasty?”


Brandt snarled, “If he opens his goddamn mouth and says anything to anyone about you, I will track that little f*cking prick down and cut his tongue out.”