Page 24 of Riding with the Secret Billionaire

7

JAKE

The sun rises over Rustic Junction's mock Old West storefronts, casting long shadows across the dusty main street.I've been awake for hours, watching Trish sleep in the adjacent motel bed.Despite my reservations in Basic Plaines, nothing has happened beyond sleep since our kiss.Last night, was harder than the night before.Her body curled toward mine during the night, seeking warmth or comfort, but I maintained the boundaries I'd set for myself and remained in my own bed.

I ease out of bed without waking her, needing the solitude of a morning run to clear my head.After the revelations and near-intimacy of last night, my thoughts are more tangled than they've been in years.The security professional in me knows I've compromised objectivity by developing feelings for Trish.The man in me doesn't care.

As I run through the empty streets of Rustic Junction, I try to make sense of what's happening between us.The attraction was immediate, unexpected, and powerful.But it's more than physical. There's something about her directness, perception,and personality that draws me to her in ways I haven't experienced in nearly six years.

Six years since Afghanistan. Since coming home.Since Valerie.

By the time I return to the Rustic Love Hotel, the sun has fully risen, and tourists are beginning to appear on the boardwalks, ready for a day of staged gunfights and saloon shows.I pause outside our room, steadying myself before entering.

Trish is awake, sitting cross-legged on the bed, scrolling through her phone.She looks up when I enter, her eyes widening slightly as they take in my sweat-dampened t-shirt.

"Morning," she says, her voice carefully neutral."Good run?"

"Productive," I reply, which isn't exactly an answer."How did you sleep?"

"Better than expected." She sets her phone aside."We need to talk about Basic Plaines."

I nod, appreciating her directness."We do. Let me shower first."

"Of course."

In the bathroom, I let the hot water sluice over me, hoping it might wash away some of the tension coiled in my muscles.It doesn't. When I emerge, dressed in fresh clothes, Trish is standing by the window, looking out at the staged Western town.

"This place is something else," she says without turning."You weren't kidding when you said it was like a movie set."

"It's designed that way," I explain, moving to stand beside her but maintaining a careful distance."Most of the 'residents' are actually performers."

"So, nothing here is real?" There's something pointed in her question that has nothing to do with Rustic Junction.

"The buildings are real," I say."The experiences people have here are real.The context is just... curated."

She turns to face me then. "Like you?A curated version of Jake Winters, security consultant, ride share driver, occasional control freak?"

A small smile tugs at my lips."I've never claimed to be an open book, Trish."

"No, you haven't." She sighs, running a hand through her sleep-tousled curls."Look, I've been thinking about what you told me the other night.About the security contract for Jordyn's wedding."

I wait, giving her space to continue.

"I understand why you didn't mention it right away.Professional discretion and all that.But I need to know if there's anything else you're not telling me that might be relevant to... whatever this is between us."

It's a fair question, one I've been anticipating since our conversation in Basic Plaines.The problem is, there are aspects of my security work that I'm not at liberty to disclose, even to her.

"My involvement with the Kane-McCrae wedding is strictly professional," I begin carefully. "But yes, there are details about the security operation I can't share. Not because I don't trust you, but because client confidentiality is non-negotiable in my line of work."

"Just like doctor-patient privilege or attorney-client confidentiality," she says, nodding.

"Exactly."

"I understand that part. But Jake..." She hesitates, then looks at me directly. "Yesterday you explained why you drive for RoadRunner - the controlled interaction, the clear parameters. I get that. But there's something else, isn't there? Somethingabout how you can just... arrange premium vehicles, perfect routes, override system protocols when needed?"

I feel my chest tighten. She's more observant than I gave her credit for.

"You don't drive for RoadRunner," she continues, her voice growing more certain. "You ARE RoadRunner, aren't you?"

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