8. Mia

CHAPTER 8

Mia

I don't know why I said what I said. Me and my damn mouth. Sometimes it's too big for me. I've gotten better about not speaking before thinking, but when I'm with Jones all that goes to shit.

Part of me does regret agreeing to come with him today. I know as soon as I set foot in Palisade every memory, every feeling will come racing back, and I won't be able to stop it.

But we have two hours left before we get there. The thought of being in Jones's orbit for the summer was already scary, but being stuck in his truck for two hours is downright terrifying.

Luckily the rumble of the truck's old exhaust is loud, and the country radio station is spitting out 90's bangers one after the other. I get lost for a while in the familiar tunes of Shania Twain and Garth Brooks. But Jones and I were never very good about sitting in silence.

A Brooks and Dunn song comes on and Jones hums along. Darn it if the sound doesn't send a humming of my own straight through my core. He begins singing, joining them for the chorus and I'm not even sure he knows he's doing it. I try not to glance his way, but he's attracting me like a magnet.

His large hand grips the steering wheel while the other taps the top of the shifter. The muscles in his forearms tense. His hair is tucked underneath a backward ballcap and the way he licks his lips in between singing, has me remembering how they felt pressed against mine the other day. The comfort in his voice feels intimate and when he turns his head and we lock eyes, I sense a rush between my thighs.

"I don't mind the silence, but since we do have the next two hours, might as well tell me what you've been up to the last eight years," he says.

At this moment, gazing at him, and riding shotgun in his truck, I don't want to think about my time without him.

But that's all in the past.

Tearing my eyes from him, I face forward and pay attention to the road. The breathtaking view of the Rockies, and dry terrain is something I've missed. But as much as I might not want to admit it to myself, maybe I've missed the sight of Jones more.

"You really want to talk about that?" I ask, still peering out the front windshield.

"I don't want to hear about all the guys you've fucked, Mia," my name punches out of his chest, and I hate the way it sounds.

I snort, glancing his way again. "Yeah, I wouldn't think so."

"Damnit, now you've got me thinking about it." His grip tightens around the steering wheel like the idea of this makes him want to strangle someone. "I'm not na?ve but just let me continue to live in the fantasy I've built the last eight years that you've been saving yourself for me until you came back."

"Okay, Jones," I answer seriously. If that's what he needs, I want to give him that. Yet, my brain can't keep my mouth from asking, "What else happens in this fantasy? You know…when I come back?" My heart beats faster, my stomach twists, and my eyes dance over his side profile while I wait for him to answer.

"I tell you to fuck off," he bites out.

The air all but drains from my lungs.

"I tell you that just because you're back doesn't mean I'm gonna forgive you and take you back and everything's gonna go back to normal." He finally turns to look at me, and when he does, I can't miss the sadness in his blue-grey eyes. I can't miss the hurt in his tense jawline. "But then I do and it does."

A quiet gasp escapes my lips at his confession.

He gives a shrug, trying to play it off as if it's nonchalant but we both know it's anything but. With his attention back on the road he says, "Because you're you. And I'm me. And I don't know how we'd be in the same town and not be together."

A lump slides up my throat and it doesn't matter how much I swallow; I can't seem to rid of it. I might as well get used to it because I'm beginning to assume it's going to make a permanent home there while I'm in Jones's presence.

Tension fills the cab of the truck. I don't know what kind, if it's good or bad, or if it's just the kind that exists between two people who were once each other's everything. It's heavy and laced with memories and pain of the past that we share and can't be undone.

After what feels like an entire Kenny Chesney song plays out, he finally breaks through the tension. "How about all mention of sexual partners is off the table?"

I nod. "Deal." The image of another woman with her hands on Jones creates a taste of displeasure in my mouth.

"What have you been up to?"

"I live in Connecticut," I pause, still trying to put only the appropriate details from the last eight years into a box that I can pull from and share with him.

This means I won't tell him about my current fuckbuddy, the one I call when I'm lonely and missing Jones. The one who lives too busy of a life for a woman and calls me after a work dinner and he's horny. I won't tell him about the only guy I allowed myself to get serious with but ultimately just couldn't commit once he proposed.

Deep down I knew, I wouldn't fully love him. Not in the way he deserved because I'd already given my heart away when I was fifteen years old.

"After I graduated with an economics degree, I completed an internship with Brown Harris Stevens in New York and now I'm back in Connecticut working at the university."

He keeps his focus on the road but says, "Sounds impressive."

I hunch my shoulders. "I don't know if I'd say that."

"That's more than Maple Ridge could've offered you."

Or what he could've offered me, is what I dissect from his words.

"I thought an economics degree might help if I ever came back home to take over Base Camp Sports."

Jones whips his head in my direction, and I feel the shift in speed as he removes his foot from the accelerator.

"You had plans to return?"

"Not plans, but I've always thought about coming back." It's unfair to give him false hope so I quickly follow it up by saying, "Never for good though."

I feel his disappointment cut through me with only a look. He jerks his attention away from me. His Adam's apple bobs up and back down his throat.

"Are you back living with your aunt?"

"No. After I got a taste of freedom for the year I interned in New York; I knew I needed my own space. Besides, she's moved into a retirement building." I crack open the window and inhale a breath of fresh Colorado air. "I live in an apartment near campus. It's small but it's mine."

He nods. "Sounds great."

It's hard to tell if it's genuine or sarcastic. Jones was always sarcastic. It was part of his charm. His humor has always reminded me of Chandler from FRIENDS. But that's where their similarities end. Jones is confident and strong. He's prideful and loyal. He's the epitome of every girl's fantasy.

But then I can't help but wonder why some other girl hasn't snatched him up yet.

Jones parks the car in a large blacktop parking lot that used to be gravel. The signs out front are freshly painted and trendy but it's still just as busy. Vehicles flow off the main road.

It's as beautiful as I remember. Acres of orchards and vineyards for miles stretch along the bank of the Colorado River with the hill country sitting above. It's too stunning to not pull out my phone and snag a few pictures. Connecticut is pretty but my friends back there will be impressed this is Colorado.

"C'mon." Jones nods his chin and shuffles away.

I stuff my phone into the back of my shorts and follow him. Despite the incredible view of the orchard, the one right in front of me is distracting. The way Jones's ass looks in his gym shorts has me close to drooling. He's always had a tight little butt. Guess he never lost it after his hockey days.

We don't even make it fifty feet before a woman hollers, "Martin is in the house!"

This is followed by whoops and whistles. Jones ducks into a tent and I walk in behind him. Inside the tent, there are peaches on top of peaches, they're in baskets, bins, crates, and piled on tables. Before I catch up, the woman is hauling Jones into a giant bear hug. He lifts her up and spins her around, but locks eyes with me before putting her back down on her feet.

"Haven't seen you in a few weeks, where've you been?" he asks her, spinning his hat backward so The Pines logo is visible to me. My core tightens. There's just something about a man in a backward ball cap that gets me worked up.

"I was in Italy for two weeks," the woman says, crossing her arms and forcing her impressive rack to be even more noticeable.

"Shit. Italy. What for?"

"Vacation. Duh," she scoffs. "I know that's unheard of for a workaholic like you, Martin, but some of us actually enjoy vacations."

"I like vacations," he says defensively.

"Okay, sure. When was the last time you took a vacation?"

He glances down and kicks the ground with the toe of his shoe.

She finally sees me to the side of Jones and sticks her hand out, smiling. "Hey, I'm Ronnie."

I shake her hand. "Mia."

Her eyes go round and she whips her head toward Jones. "Mia?"

"Um, yep. I'm Mia Coppella," I elaborate, though something tells me I didn't need to give her any with my introduction, she already knows who I am.

"It's nice to meet you, Mia. Jones and I are… friends ." She coughs and flicks her wrist. "We go way back."

It takes everything in me to not look at Jones. But I resist. Even while a ball of jealousy burrows in my gut. I have no right to be jealous. Jones has the right to date or fuck any girl he wants.

But it doesn't make it hurt any less.

"Her in-laws own the farm," Jones says.

What the hell? Jones messed around with a married woman?

I have to hold back from giving Jones an accusing look. Instead, I push through this awkward moment. "It's amazing," I say, glancing around. "I haven't been here for a while."

"Well, y'all should have a look around the orchard and enjoy some ice cream too. Jones typically grabs his peaches and hauls ass out of here. Though I can't say I blame him, doubtful my husband, Vince wants to bump into him either."

Now I do turn and look at Jones. He rubs at the end of his nose and glances over his shoulders. "I ain't scared."

"Yeah, okay." Ronnie chuckles. "Go show her the orchard, dipshit."

"It was nice meeting you," I say, smiling.

"Mia, finally meeting you has been the highlight of my day. Do me a favor and go easy on this one's heart, will ya?"

I don't know if she intended it as a jab or if she's just honestly concerned about Jones's heart. But either way, I give her a nod. "I'll try my best."

Jones and I exit the tent without speaking. He leads the way past a bright white barn where they're selling coffee and ice cream. We step around a couple kids playing tag in the pathway. When we reach the orchard, there's a sign about self-guided tours and I come up alongside of him.

"Ronnie seemed nice."

"Ha," he barks out, looking at me. "Nice?"

"Yeah. Pretty too."

Dragging his focus to his feet trudging over the soil, he groans. "Don't start, Mia. You didn't want me to ask you about the guys back in Connecticut, don't ask me about Ronnie."

I clamp my jaw shut while emotions rattle through me. Being jealous isn't right, but I can't help if that's the way I feel. Being thousands of miles away for all these years thinking he might be screwing another woman was much easier than being here and getting a front-row seat to it.

"Jones," I say too loudly, and grab his forearm to stop him. "There hasn't been anyone else." That's a straight-up lie. So I elaborate, "At least not anyone else worth talking about."

We stand in the orchard locking eyes and when I find peace in his gaze it shakes me to my core. All the memories of our time at the orchard come rushing back. It somehow forces away all the dark flashbacks that usually assault my brain.

Because this, right here and now, is a new memory we're making. Something I never thought would be possible when I left him.

"C'mon, let's go pick some peaches." He nods and starts off again and I hurry to catch up.