Page 41 of Total Jane Wreck

“Pleasure,” I reply.

Tom’s handshake is so firm it almost hurts. “Nice to meet you, Jane.” But his eyes pass right over me.

“Likewise.”

“Jane’s the resident equestrian specialist.” Chet’s fingers brush against my wrist. Probably accidental, but it’s like plugging my skin into a live outlet.

Tom grunts. He points a finger, rapid-fire, at the three closest horses grazing in the pasture. “I’m hoping to discuss your plan for Resilience Ranch. Are you scaling up? Or did I misunderstand?”

Chet’s jaw ticks. “If by scaling up you mean operating at an ever-widening loss, then, no, you didn’t misunderstand. I have two goals: creating a nice home for the horses and me, and supporting the town of Sugar Pine.”

Chet’s mom tries to soften the edges. “Tom just means, it’s a wonderful place. But you could do so much more! Imagine a getaway for overstimulated professionals, or equine therapy for tech bros experiencing existential collapse—” She laughs at her own joke.

“Actually,” I state, “Resilience Ranch is already doing a huge service for retired and mistreated horses. These poor animals would have nowhere else to go, were it not for Chet. Why mess with a good thing?”

Tom sucks in an exasperated breath. No one speaks.

“Excuse me,” Chet says. “Jane and I have somewhere to be.”

He tugs on my arm. Once we’re out of earshot, tucked away in a spot where others won’t see, he whispers, “Grab some provisions. Let’s have our own private picnic.”

“Are you sure?” I tilt my head, pulse quickening. “Wouldn’t it be smart to stick around for a little while longer?”

His hand drops. He hooks his thumbs into his pockets, and I can’t reconcile this rumpled, makeup-smudged man with my billionaire boss. Right now, Chet looks like someone I’d meet at karaoke night—a guy who’d buy me drinks and make me laugh.

“Smart? Yes. It would be smart.” His voice drops. “But I just want to spend time with you.” Chet steps in close. His face tilts down toward mine. I stop breathing.

If I was smart, I’d step away. I’d demand answers. Or at least an explanation for his strange behavior and evasiveness.

Apparently, neither Chet nor I is smart—so here we are.

My knees weaken. Chet’s hands find my lower back, pulling me against him. I reach for his shoulders, steadying myself as our mouths meet. Heat spreads from my core outward. Every nerve ending awakens. He’s all controlled power beneath my fingertips, restraint and hunger in equal measure.

It’s like I could melt right into him. There are so many reasons I should stay away from Chet Edwards. A whole mental list that rivals the one Chet made about me. But it all dissolves as he kisses the bejeezus out of me.

Well—one of Axel Rose’s assumptions is spot on. Chet is a great kisser. World-class, even.

He pulls away first. “Let’s get out of here.”

Chapter Eighteen

Good God! What a cry! My pulse stopped: my heart stood still; my stretched arm was paralyzed.

My arms still drape over his shoulders. “Go ahead and make a run for it. I’ll put together a picnic and meet you at the far end of the old county fair trail.”

“Deal.” Chet plants his lips briefly against mine. “Pack some Impossible burgers, alright?”

“Huh?”

His laughter is proud, joyful even. “You didn’t notice? I made sure to have vegetarian options so there’d be something for you to eat.”

I’m stunned into momentary silence. “For real? How’d you know I’m a vegetarian?”

Chet cradles my cheek in his palm. “Come on, Jane. Anyone paying attention could’ve figured that one out.”

We kiss again, my hungry lips pressing against his. After a minute or two, we break apart and go our separate ways. As quickly as I can, I compose a picnic—wine bottle dangling between my knuckles, Impossible burgers wrapped in red-checkered napkins, two mason jars full of basil lemonade (to keep us hydrated), chocolate brownies that leave smudges on my fingertips. After shoving it all into a cloth bag, I rush up the old county fair trail.

Chet’s leaning against a tree trunk, waiting for me. His rumpled white shirt clings to his torso, as the sweat from underneath his fortune teller’s robe still lingers. “I was beginning to worry,” he says. But his grin is wide.