Maisey Yates - Shoulda Been a Cowboy

“Talk to you tomorrow.”

Cassie disconnected the call and flipped it from her hand onto the couch, walking through the open floor plan living room and into the kitchen to rummage around for dinner. There was meatloaf in the freezer. Along with frozen mashed potatoes all portioned up for her already, and cooked with love by her mother. So yeah, she could be a bit overbearing, but there were some things Cassie really couldn’t complain about.

She put the plastic container in the microwave and started it, then wandered over to the couch and flopped down. The couch butted up against the connecting wall to Jake’s apartment. She heard a squeaking noise, then the sound of running water and realized it was the shower. She and Jake must typically run on different schedules, because she hadn’t heard his shower noises before.

She’d never lived in this place while someone else lived in the adjacent one. It had originally been open space, and at one point in time, both units had been rented out. Then it had sat empty for ages before Cassie had rented it from Dan Caldwell, and until now, she’d never realized how thin the walls were.

And now she was terminally distracted wondering if Jake had taken his clothes off yet. Realizing that he was naked just on the other side of the wall. She jumped up off the couch and scurried back to the microwave, tugging open the door and closing it as loudly as possible in a vain attempt to drown out the sound of running water.

She pulled the lid off the Tupperware and grabbed a spoon, stirring the potatoes with much more vigor than was necessary.

Taking a bottle of wine and a glass out of her cabinet, she poured herself a generous amount. The wine would help. It would dull her senses. Hopefully make her slightly less edgy, and slightly less aware of what was happening in the apartment next door.

She took a sip of wine, and eyeballed the couch. That was usually where she ate but she wondered if she was inviting disaster by moving back over there.

But then the alternative was huddling in a corner of her kitchen just because she couldn’t get a handle on her hormones. That was ridiculous.

She sniffed and collected her dinner, walking back over to the couch and setting the plate on her coffee table. She startled when she heard what sounded like his shoulder bumping up against the shower wall. It sounded very slippery. And solid.

She took another gulp of wine.

She found herself thinking back to the last conversation they’d had before he’d left town. The one that had made her realize she had to tell him how she felt. She’d been tutoring him. Meeting with him twice a week after school in the library to go over math.

She’d been the only one to volunteer for the job—at least, the only one who’d been qualified to do the job who had volunteered for it. It had been intoxicating to be near him finally. And something else entirely to actually spend time talking with him. She’d been certain that there hadn’t been more to the guy than everyone thought he was.

Yes, he’d been into some trouble. There was no denying that, and he didn’t try to. But there was more to him than that, and she’d seen it clearly.

It had been an unseasonably warm day in Copper Ridge. The sun taunting them as they sat inside, beneath stale fluorescent lights. But Cassie hadn’t been sad to miss it. Because looking at Jake for an hour or two during their study sessions had quickly become the highlight of her week. They had been the only two students left in the library, and she’d been able to see his stress written in every muscle, every tendon in his body.

He’d actually been picking up on all the math really well, but that day he hadn’t been able to concentrate.

She’d asked him what was wrong.

Just family shit.

He hadn’t said anything else, but she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. About him. And for a moment she’d been overcome by a sense of longing that was much stronger than fear. She put her pencil down, and her hand over his.

That had been the first time they’d touched. The second time had been today, when she’d brushed his fingertips handing him a muffin.

Fifteen years between those touches and both had affected her much the same. Electricity that shot straight down to her bones.

She’d jerked her hand away then too. But she had decided that night that when she saw him again she wouldn’t pull away. Because they had a connection, she had felt it.

She’d been an idiot, which was basically her track record with men, as she knew now. But she’d been so innocent then that she hadn’t realized she could be so wrong about another person.

Jake had been her introduction to that. Jake should’ve served as a warning. Because the next day, Jake had been gone. And the day after that Jake had still been gone. And the day after that.

He had never come back. Hadn’t graduated. At least not at their school. His father was still in town, but Jake was gone. The older man had never reported him missing, so she’d assumed he knew where he was.

But she hadn’t.

She hadn’t seen him after that day in the library until last week when he’d come riding back into town, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t thought about him in the years between.

She’d thought about Jake Caldwell far more often than was reasonable.

And she was still thinking of him, though it was sort of hard not to when the man was showering just on the other side of her living room wall.

She heard another thump, followed by a very male sound, something that verged on a grunt. She froze, her wine glass touching the edge of her lip.

She shouldn’t be listening to him. It was a violation of his privacy, and there was no excuse for her to be sitting there trying to work out exactly what was going on.

But then, in her defense, this was sort of an invasion of her privacy too. She was a hostage to the noise. Yes, she could move further away from the wall. And yes, she did not have to lean in closer to it, or hold her breath so that she didn’t miss anything, but this was her home and if she wanted to sit at an awkward angle and listen intently to the activity happening next door, she had every right.

She heard another sound, similar to the first and heat flooded her face as realization crept over her. She suddenly had a guess as to what exactly was happening in the shower. That realization should have sent her searching for a pair of earplugs. Instead, she set her glass of wine down on the coffee table and, biting her lip, leaned even closer to the wall.

Unbidden, her eyes fluttered closed, images filtering through her mind. His muscular body, water sluicing over his bare skin, and his hand wrapped around his—

She swallowed hard.

Her heart was beating in her ears, and she willed it to slow down so that it didn’t block out any of her auditory entertainment. Guilt played companion to the tightening ball of adrenaline in her stomach. But it wasn’t enough to stop her.

It had been a long time since she’d felt like this. A long time since she felt that sweet anticipation, that low-level hum of excitement that ran along every nerve ending, shooting sparks through every vein.

She was unwilling to let it go. Unwilling to do anything that might break the spell she was under.

She heard one more sound, a short, harsh groan and a curse, then the water shut off and she was left feeling unsatisfied, hollow and unsteady.

She picked the wine glass back up and gulped the rest of the contents down. She was going to need another glass to forget the sound of Jake’s self-administered pleasure. Another glass to soften the need that was currently cutting into her like a knife.

The temptation to take her own shower and indulge in exactly the same activity was almost overpowering. But she was going to see him tomorrow. She was going to have to look him in the eye and make his coffee, and it was already going to be nearly impossible. If she thought of him while doing...that...it would be the most terminally uncomfortable moment in the history of mankind.