Page 15 of One Lucky Cowboy

“Can I take your keys, sir?” the valet asked.

Jax shot a look to Jill. The idea of being out in the open on the sidewalk seemed decidedly safer, but what choice did he have?

“So, what’s the plan? Just iron out some details about how to help them through this pregnancy and take a load off?”

“That’s the cover, but ultimately, we’re here to convince Steiner nothing’s wrong.”

She laced her fingers together in front of her, and he didn’t let his gaze wander appreciatively to the perky breasts peeking up from the lacey top she wore. His pride in himself went through the roof.

Look at that growth, Bennett.

And then she crossed her arms over her chest. He lost the battle immediately, but thankfully she headed toward the door, saving him from himself.

Where the hell’s your self-control, man?

“Should’ve let that wild mare stomp on my chest,” he grumbled under his breath.

“What was that?” she asked, turning back around.

“Nothing. Just saying I could use a drink.”

He tossed his keys to the valet who was trying—and failing—to pretend he wasn’t watching Jax and a pretty redhead getting into it on the curb.

“You and me both,” she whispered under her breath.

Whose idea was it to let these two—two people with as differing views on the world and each other as was possible—save their families’ business? They could barely contain their animosity.

“Let’s head inside.” Jax headed for the restaurant entrance.

“Wait.”

A gentle piano melody carried by the scent of grilled meat seasoned to perfection floated by him. Neither relaxed his shoulders, though. This was already the most excruciating dinner date—or non-date—he’d ever had, and he hadn’t even walked through the doors.

“What, Jill?” he asked.

He was tired, the bone kind of tired that not even a fifty-dollar filet and triple shot of double-barrel bourbon could fix. And if the past two days were any indication, that wasn’t gonna get better any time soon.

“I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped. “Are you, now?”

Her sigh punched him in the gut.

“Now it’s my turn to be sorry,” he said. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

“I don’t like you, that’s true.”

Another gut punch, this one somehow worse. It wasn’t like she was telling him something he didn’t already know, but damn.

“But I love Maggie. And she’s worked too hard—we’ve worked too hard—to let a petty annoyance get in the way of working together for her and Bennett’s sakes. I won’t lie and pretend I want to be here, but I will do it for her, and I know you’re here for him. And whatever happens tonight, let’s not forget we can make this work for us, too. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be second-in-command my whole life.”

“Something we can agree on.” He held out a hand, and she took it, her grip firm and warm.

A slow burn spread up his arm from where their palms touched. It felt like an electric shock, if those were in the habit of creeping silently up veins until they jolted your heart on impact.

“Okay, then lead the way,” she said.

They were led to a table immediately. Jax had been to some classy joints in his time, but this place put them all to shame. The tables were all stained oak and adorned with a single candle in the center. Instead of being cheesy, the wrought-iron stands beneath the candles—each one different than the table next to it—made it unique and charming. Then there were the vaulted ceilings. It was like being in an old hunting lodge with new money infused. With the live guitarist playing in the background, the ambiance was a bull’s-eye.

---