Page 26 of One Lucky Cowboy

Sheer force of will kept her jaw from dropping to the shiny tile floor in the bakery. She didn’t—couldn’t—reply.

“It’s brave, Jill. Walking away from others’ dreams for you and making your own way is the best thing anyone can do for themselves. I’m a little jealous.” She opened her mouth to reply, but he shook his head. “I don’t mean about the Henley name and job thing, though I wouldn’t turn it down. I mean that you’re strong enough to walk away from it. I don’t…” His grin faded to a sad smile. “I don’t know that I’ll be able to when the time comes.”

He stood and snatched the last piece of her crust, popping it in his mouth. “Well, good to see you, Henley. I’ll be seeing you around.”

“You will.” Confusion sat where Jax and her bread used to be. “Oh, wait!”

He turned around.

“I got you this. To say sorry.” She handed him the vanilla tart and he frowned. “Sorry. If you don’t like them, I could get you something else—”

“No. They’re a family favorite, actually. I’m just bummed you think there’s something you need to apologize for. I was teasing you earlier, but Jill—” He leaned against her table, his knee brushing hers. “I liked when you tried to kiss me. I just want it to be something you don’t blame the whiskey on the next morning when we finally get around to it, okay?”

All she could do was nod like a hinge in her neck was loose. That was what she’d done—blamed the whiskey. Would she have blamed him if he let her go through with it?

Probably.

“That’s all my turning you away was about. I’ll see you when you get back, Jill. And make no mistake, I’m very much looking forward to it.”

He got his coffee to go and walked out of the bakery. Jill couldn’t help but think everything she knew of the man—which admittedly wasn’t much—had been wrong.

Only when he was halfway down the street did her brain catch up to her heart. He’d said when they kissed again, not if.

Uh oh, her heart whispered. We’re in trouble, aren’t we?

Yep, her brain replied. We sure are.

Chapter Four

She got back two days later, her luggage surprisingly light compared to what she owned. What would she need from the city to live in Deer Creek for a month, though? All but her Henley Apparel outfits weren’t appropriate, save for two she tucked in her suitcase for the Cattleman’s fair. Then there were her beauty regimen items—hair straighteners, makeup for every occasion, and even fake lashes for nights out on the town. Yeah, those could stay.

In the end, all she brought was one suitcase, her old Nikon she’d fiddled with through college, and her riding gear. Instead of feeling like she was leaving her life behind, she felt … light. Unencumbered. Maybe this would be a good break if she let it.

Maggie was curled up sleeping on a comfy love seat across the way, Lily’s dog bed empty beside her. Jill slipped her camera out of her bag, dialed in the zoom until Maggie’s relaxed smile was in the frame, and clicked the shutter. She’d check in with Maggie later; in the meantime, Lily could find her while she unpacked since there wasn’t a fence between the properties. Her friend had kindly offered to watch Lily while Jill packed what she needed and talked to her folks.

Oof. The latter had been a mess.

“I told you this was a bad idea,” her dad said the second Jill filled them in on Maggie’s health and the welfare of the company.

And it had gone downhill from there. Her dad remained stoic with arms crossed over his chest at brunch—a meal she’d been looking forward to but was already disappointed in since the food wasn’t as good at what she’d had at Mae’s, but for which cost more than double. Then her mom had cried when she got into her car to leave despite promises to be back when she was able, though admittedly, she wasn’t sure when that would be with the CAF coming up.

Jill felt pulled in two directions between her parents’ and Maggie’s needs.

She inhaled deeply, creosote and woodfire smoke tickling her nose. She shivered as a breeze rolled over her skin and danced away from her into the birch branches above, the sound like a crumpling of newspaper, both familiar and new at the same time. It’d never occurred to her to live outside the city where life carried promise on its own bustling stream of commerce and traffic, but this was nice. Peaceful.

Hmm. She appreciated the way the country showed the season changes through all five of a human’s senses, rather than just observing the chic outfit changes that bookmarked them in the city. With regulated heating and cooling in her apartment, she barely noticed the temperature changes outside the walk to her car in the parking garage.

If anyone asked, she’d deny it, but she didn’t hate being back in Deer Creek as much as she’d anticipated. The country left a few things to be desired—good restaurants and shopping to name a couple—but it did solitude well.

Two swallows fought above her, screeching and singing in equal measure. So much for solitude. Jill smiled watching them dive and dip in the warm air currents Texas gifted them each fall. The creek bubbled over rocks that hadn’t seen water pass over them in the past decade. Hopefully, it boded well that the drought was behind them. She wasn’t a rancher, but her work depended on caring for those who’d been called by that trade, and their success meant hers as well.

Jill still had a few minutes before she and Jax were supposed to deliver the machinery from the warehouse to the Deer Creek residents who’d ordered Steel Born tractors and combines and such. They also had to work out how to ship off the old equipment for recycling, a newer part of their service to keep ranching sustainable in a time when resources were finite. When that was all done, they’d work out how to do the same for the MBE order. All that, and squeeze in time for her own, private goal—to find something else, something sustainable that she and Maggie could do to ensure they never had to worry about their company’s solvency again.

You have time. You’ll think of something.

She had time, yes, but more scheduled time with Jackson Marshall than she was comfortable with, too.

Sure, he’d proven to be more than the wild child she’d anticipated, but he was still too much of a flight risk to get comfortable with. And the one solitary thought that had plagued her all the way to San Antonio and back was his promise that when they kissed next, it would be intentional.

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