Page 125 of California Wild

Who bought ginger chews and soup and carried her through the worst weeks of nausea.

The man who cooked her steak and made her laugh and held her like she was breakable even when she wasn’t.

And right now—he was looking at her like he’d never wanted anything more.

The song ended in a blur of noise—cheers, whistles, someone somewhere slamming a glass against the bar—and Jesse stepped away from the mic. Ran a hand through his curls like he needed to ground himself. And then—he looked at her.

Really looked at her.

And she knew.

She knew the way you know something deep in your bones.

That no matter what happened tomorrow or next week or five years from now—

This mattered.

He reached for her without a word.

Just caught her hand in his, warm and steady and sure, and pulled her down off the stage. Through the crowd. Past the table, the bar, the blur of teammates and strangers and sound.

She didn’t ask where they were going.

Didn’t need to.

Because Jesse had her hand.

Because the sand was warm beneath her bare feet.

Because the night air smelled like salt and surf and him—and that was enough.

They slipped past the edge of the patio, the lights and laughter behind them blurring into background noise. The beach opened up wide in front of them, quiet and endless, the ocean crashing just beyond, moonlight rippling over the waves like a secret.

Jesse didn’t say a word.

He just kept walking until they were alone—until there was nothing but wind and starlight and the space between them.

Then he stopped.

And turned.

Hayley slowed to a breathless halt, heart thudding, the hem of her dress fluttering around her thighs. He stood a few feet away, chest rising and falling beneath his worn tee, curls tousled by the breeze, eyes dark and fixed on her like she was the only thing in the world that made sense.

She didn’t hesitate.

She stepped into him, one hand flattening over his chest, right above his heart.

God. The way it pounded.

The way it matched hers.

“You were good,” she said, barely above a whisper.

Jesse huffed a breath—half-laugh, half-something else. His eyes dropped to her mouth, lingered. “You’re better.”

Her lips curved. But there was something raw in her now, tugging at her ribs, cracking her wide open.

“I didn’t know that part of you.”

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