Jesse's Girl (Hundred Oaks #6) by Miranda Kenneally

his hand. “Of course it’s not true. I want what every normal guy wants in bed.”
    “Oh.” I feel my face burning hot. I can’t help but wonder what normal guys want in bed. I’ve only done it the one time with Nate. And he finished before the song we were listening to was over. He didn’t cuddle with me or tell me how nice I felt; he just put his clothes back on and asked if I wanted a snack.
    When he cut things off between us last week, I can only assume it was because I wasn’t what he wanted.
    I spend a lot of time thinking about what great sex with a guy must be like. Nate never gave me goose bumps. Maybe I should’ve paid more attention to my body when it was trying to tell me it wasn’t getting what it needed from him. But when all your friends are hooking up, you want to do it too, to be normal, even if it doesn’t feel exactly right.
    “So you haven’t dated since then?” I ask.
    “I trusted Stacey, and then it turned out I couldn’t. I thought I could trust my parents too.”
    “What do you mean?”
    He pulls in a deep breath. “They were excited when I first started out in the business. They wanted me to be a Christian singer, but that just wasn’t me. I thought they’d support me no matter what.”
    “Go on.”
    “Mark said that I’d be a lot more famous and make more money if I went mainstream, and honestly, I wanted to sing about fishing and family, not God. My parents were fine when I was singing about horses and how much I love Tennessee, but they hated when I started writing about girls a couple of years ago. It was like they’d rather I fail than embarrass them in front of my dad’s boss and their church friends. They stopped wanting to spend time with me and started making excuses…” He taps his finger on a pointy spur. It looks painful. “If the music I perform is going to continue to create this rift between me and my parents, then I need to give it up.”
    “Is that why you’re retiring?” I ask.
    After a long moment, Jesse nods. “Partly. I want a normal life too. I love music more than anything, but not if it costs me everything.”
    “I’m sorry,” I say quietly. I can’t imagine giving up music for any reason, but I’ve never had to experience pressure like he has. It sucks that his parents aren’t supportive of his musical choices. It sounds like a complicated situation, and I don’t understand, because my family has always been there for me. Family should support you no matter what, but I guess sometimes that doesn’t happen.
    Jesse points at some fire-red boots. “I think you need a pair of those.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t color-coordinate my boots with my corset lace.”
    Jesse considers this, then points across the room. “You’re right. You’re getting those purple python boots instead.”
    “Oh, hell no.”
    The woman comes out of the storeroom carrying a box, which she hands to Jesse. He pulls out a spur covered with skulls and diamonds.
    I crack up. “Why do you need those?”
    “Why don’t I need them is the question. They match my belt buckle.” He lifts up his T-shirt, revealing the skull he wore at his concert.
    “My fault,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I was unaware the belt buckle had diamonds on it. The spurs make perfect sense now.”
    Jesse sits down, rolls up his jeans, and slips the spurs over his red boots. “Big-time.”
    Smiling, Rosie folds her hands together, lifting them to her chin.
    He adds, “Rosie—can you grab me a pair of those Laredo boots with the flames? I’d like to try them on. And a pair of those purple Dingos for my friend. Size?”
    “No way,” I say.
    Jesse grabs my leg and yanks off my ankle bootie in one movement.
    “Hey!” I shout.
    He peers inside my boot. “She wears a seven, Rosie,” Jesse says, and the saleslady scurries to the back.
    I grab my bootie from his hand. “If you’re retiring in two months, why are you buying new spurs to perform in?”
    He shrugs. “I like