Page 50 of One Lucky Cowboy

The shock on the boy’s face was funny, since he’d been the one trespassing all week. “You—you have?”

“Yeah. You keep disappearing when I come over to chat.”

The boy’s face fell. “Oh, got it. Are you Jackson Marshall?”

“One and the same. But call me Jax. You the same kid from the weekend?” The boy nodded, fear lining his wide eyes. “Well, it’s customary to send an email with a résumé or at least call first, but I admire your balls, kid. Cold calling for a job works when the boss is desperate to hire.”

A shadow passed over the boy’s face but was gone as quickly. He straightened his shoulders, tucked his long blond curls under his Stetson. Even still, he looked young. Inexperienced. Up close, his jeans were new, still had the crease down the middle.

But his eyes. Even cast in shadow by the wide-brim hat the boy wore, they were bright, curious. Eerily familiar. Had they met in town before?

A shiver rolled down each vertebra of Jax’s spine like a pebble down a barren hill. He shook it off.

“A job. Yeah. That’s why I’m here. I wanna do what you do.”

Jax laughed. “I wish you could, buddy. I wish you could. What’s your name, son?”

The boy swallowed, his barely there Adam’s apple bobbing like he had the hiccups. “Um, Ren.”

“So, Wren. Like the bird?” Jax stuck out his hand and Ren grasped it. “Good grip.”

“No W, but pronounced the same, yeah. It’s short for Renato, my grandfather.”

Jax let the name roll off his shoulders. He’d known a man named Renato once, an unforgiving bastard who wouldn’t look beyond his own nose when it came to who was good enough for his daughter. He stared hard at the boy, trying to place the connection between his familiar eyes and a name that had inspired a decade and a half of self-loathing.

He raked a hand down the few days of stubble on his chin.

“So, what kind of ranching have you done, Ren? Where could my brother use you in the field?” This was Bennett’s job, but he and Maggie had a doctor’s appointment today. Jill would understand.

Ren held his gaze, his jaw set but bottom lip quivering. The kid was nervous.

“You have a brother?” he asked.

Jax nodded. “For better or worse. He’s the boss around here. You got siblings?”

Ren shook his head. “No, sir.”

“Sir was my old man. Call me Jax.”

Ren just nodded; his wide, stoic eyes said he had no intention of calling Jax by his first name. Fine, whatever.

“Well, you’re lucky there. Some days I wish it was just me. My girlfri—my friend—is an only child and she’s pretty cool.”

“I wish I had someone else. Someone I could talk to, but it was just me and my mom until—” His eyes misted over and the tremble in his lip grew more pronounced.

“Okay, listen, son,” Jax said, putting his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I get it. Something horrible happened to your mom and you need a job. Am I close?”

Ren nodded again. “So, you figured you’d follow up on an ad for something where they wouldn’t look too close into who you were or when you were born. Am I still close?”

“Not exactly.” This time, Ren shrugged, and the familiar gesture raised the hairs on Jax’s arms.

“Okay, well, you look young. Like maybe fifteen. I know I’m close on that one.”

Ren jutted out his chin, defiance wafting off him. His dad must’ve missed the day he was supposed to teach his kid about manners, or the guy was a real sonuvabitch like his own had been. Either way, it wasn’t Jax’s job to teach him how to act in front of potential employers.

“Yeah, so?”

There was an edge in his voice.

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