Page 23 of Riding with the Secret Billionaire

Sleep seems impossible with him so close yet so deliberately distant. But the events of the day catch up with me faster than expected, and I find myself drifting off despite the tumultuous emotions still swirling inside me.

The last thing I register before sleep claims me completely is the gentle weight of Jake's hand coming to rest in the space between us, not quite touching me, but there. An offering. A possibility.

A bridge across the no-man's-land of the bed.

I waketo the gentle rumble of Jake's truck and the changing landscape outside my window. Somehow, I've slept through our morning departure from Basic Plaines--packing, checkout, Jake's inevitable coffee run, getting into the truck, all of it lost to exhaustion after yesterday's emotional rollercoaster.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Jake says, glancing at me as I straighten in my seat. "We've been on the road for almost three hours."

I blink, disoriented. "Three hours? Why didn't you wake me? How did I get into the van?"

"You needed the rest, and I carried you." His eyes return to the road, but there's a softness in his profile I haven't seen before. "And you're less argumentative when you're sleeping."

I snort, stretching my arms overhead as much as the truck cab allows. "Very funny. Where are we?"

"About to cross into Colorado. I rerouted us slightly. We're going to stop in Rustic Junction for the night."

"Rustic Junction?" I check my phone, finding a string of missed texts from Jordyn. "That wasn't on the original itinerary."

"It's on Route 14," he explains, "and the accommodations are better than what we'd find if we stuck to our planned route."

I study him, trying to decipher if this detour has a deeper purpose. "You just decided this while I was sleeping?"

"I made a few calls this morning before we left Basic Plaines." He hesitates. "I booked a room at the Rustic Love Hotel."

"A room," I repeat, emphasizing the singular. "As in, one room?"

"With two beds," he clarifies quickly. "I thought after last night... it seemed practical. Unless you'd prefer separate rooms?"

The question hangs between us. Last night's kiss, the almost-more-than-a-kiss, the revelations about his security contract, all of it simmers beneath this seemingly mundane travel adjustment.

"One room is fine," I say finally. "We're adults. We can handle sleeping in the same space without combusting."

His lips twitch. "Speak for yourself."

The unexpected humor catches me off guard, drawing a genuine laugh from me that seems to please him.

We reach Rustic Junction as sunset paints the mountains in gold and crimson. The town is exactly what its name suggests, a carefully maintained Old West tourist attraction, complete with wooden boardwalks, saloon façades, and staff in period costumes.

"This is... something else," I say as Jake parks in front of the Rustic Love Hotel, which manages to maintain the frontier theme while still looking surprisingly upscale.

"Wait until you see the staged gunfights," Jake replies with that hint of a smile I'm beginning to crave. "Happens twice daily in the town square."

Our room continues the Western motif with cowhide rugs, rustic wood furniture, and vintage-looking fixtures, but with modern amenities and, as promised, two queen beds with a respectable distance between them.

"Definitely an upgrade from Basic Plaines," I comment, dropping my overnight bag on one of the beds.

Jake places his duffel on the other bed, his movements precise and controlled as always. "Hungry? The Guns Blazing Saloon supposedly serves decent steaks."

"Lead the way, cowboy," I reply with more lightness than I've felt since our kiss. "I'm starving."

The evening unfolds like something from a travel brochure, we watch a surprisingly entertaining shootout performance, eat genuinely good steaks at the saloon, and wander the main street as lamplight replaces the fading sun.

By the time we return to our room, a tentative truce seems to have formed between us. The awkwardness of Basic Plaines hasn't disappeared, but it's transmuted into something more manageable, a mutual agreement to enjoy this strange liminal space between Kansas and Nevada, between strangers and something more.

As I prepare for bed, I catch Jake watching me with an unguarded expression that makes my heart stutter. Tomorrow will bring us one day closer to Foxfire Valley, one day closer to professional complications and difficult decisions. But tonight, in this fake frontier town with its real mountain views, I'll let myself enjoy the unexpected detour this journey has become.

I just hope I don't wake up in his arms. Or maybe, secretly, I hope I do.

---