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survived the Greyhound system. I’d met the Walkers, and really, I couldn’t imagine a better family to be “enslaved” to for the summer. Sure, they seemed like hard working, dawn-to-dusk people, but they also seemed fair and good. I’d survived introductions, and I had some time to myself to unpack and unwind.
    I clomped across the room in my combat boots before realizing my feet had been in them for over twelve hours. I kicked them off and wiggled my toes. My black “body bag” was placed on the foot of the bed and almost meticulously centered. The reminder that Jesse had been inside my room only a few minutes ago, lowering my bag onto that bed . . . Well, it did things to my stomach and my body that no red-blooded cowboy should do to my stomach and body.
    Jesse had just been in here . . .
    That explained why the room still smelled like him. Kind of soapy, kind of earthy, and kind of like some other scent I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Something familiar, but only vaguely so.
    Musky? Leathery? I couldn’t quite pinpoint it.
    What the . . .
    What the hell was I doing? Contemplating the undertone scent of some tight-pant wearing guy I’d just met? I had to remind myself I was not a boy-crazy, stars-aligned sucker a few times before heading over to my bag. If a fury of unpacking couldn’t do the job of removing Jesse from my mind, I just might have to soak in a tub for a while because there was no way, in my wound up state, I could fall asleep.
    After unzipping my bag, I headed over to the simple wood dresser across from the bed. I slid open the first couple of drawers to confirm they were empty before heading back to my bag, scooping up an armload of clothes, and dropping it into the top drawer. I repeated the process until my bag was empty and the top four drawers were filled to capacity. I had more drawers than clothes, so I never got around to opening the bottom drawer. I slowed down and took my time when I got to my art supplies. I stacked my box of charcoal on top of my sketchbook and centered them on top of the dresser.
    Okay. Unpacking complete. What next?
    I stared at the double-sized bed for a moment. It matched the dresser and nightstand: dark cherry wood, a simple, no-nonsense design. However, what covered the bed was anything but simple. One of the brightest, most colorful quilts in existence blanketed the mattress. It had lots of blue and green squares, some patterned, some textured, and the rest of the squares ranged in color from chocolate brown to scarlet to pale yellow. From the looks of it, the quilt had been washed hundreds of times, but other than the fading and obvious wear to the fabric, it was pristine. There were no rips or dangling threads.
    Great. I was admiring an ancient quilt.
    Yet another What the . . . moment.
    Someone needed a bath, and fast. Snatching my shower bag from the dresser, I had to rummage around the drawers before I could wrestle out a pair of my pajamas. After opening the bedroom door, I scanned the hallway before hurrying toward the bathroom. It was across from Clementine’s bedroom and it was empty, which was probably an unlikely thing in a family of three girls. I heard some commotion downstairs and guessed everyone was probably about to sit down for dinner. A family like the Walkers probably still did that sort of thing: sit-down dinners complete with conversation and home-cooked food.
    Once I’d tucked myself away inside the bathroom, I cranked on the tub faucet and tested the water. In an old house like theirs, I expected the water to take a half hour to get hot, but it was warm almost right away. After taking my time undressing, I dumped in a capful of lilac bubble bath I found hanging out in a basket beside the claw-foot tub, made sure there was an available and clean towel nearby, and eased my way into the steaming bath.
    Before long, all thoughts of a J named cowboy had drifted away. Along with the rest of any and all thoughts of everything else.
    I