Jessie’s P.O.V.
The curtains jerked open and flooded my room with daylight. I groaned, not ready to wake up yet.
“Get your lazy ass up, hotshot,” someone bellowed at me.
I remember that voice.
“Cody?” I asked, shading my eyes from the brightness.
A six-foot-tall, barrel-chested man came into focus as my eyes adjusted. A wide smile plastered across his face. His white straw cowboy tilted back on his head, showing off his short blonde hair.
“That rodeo life made you soft. Who the hell sleeps the day away?” he laughed.
I swung my leg over the side of the bed and sat. My hands ran over my face as I tried to clear my head.
“What the hell, man? Can’t the injured get some rest?” I groaned.
“The great Jessie McBride needs a rest. That’s a new one,” he chuckled.
I flipped him off, making
