Page 37 of One Lucky Cowboy

Why didn’t these numbers match his? Even with the new amortization schedule, the final tally of costs, profit margins, and units sold balanced for the year, but these monthly numbers didn’t.

Huh. There it was.

The discrepancy was in the delivery cost. MBE ran their costs quarterly, and Steel Born apparently did their accounting bimonthly. He tapped REPLY before shaking his head.

“She’s right next door,” he mumbled to himself.

Sliding his phone back in his jeans, he headed through the dirt path between Bennett’s ranch and the Newman property. It cut through a small hole in the razor wire Bennett had made when he and Maggie dated back in high school. The secret entrance to each property somehow escaped the notice of both fathers, but cooler still was the fact that the path was still worn down to the dusty valley floor. The two must still use it, even though Maggie had lived at Bennett’s since their wedding.

They’d be cute if they weren’t so nauseatingly perfect. They complemented each other at home and through their companies, they loved and respected the other for who they were now, not what they’d been to each other all those years ago, and damned if they didn’t PDA like high schoolers on prom night.

Barely escaping the torn sheath of razor wire without it tearing a hole in his chambray, Jax stood tall. That little portal wasn’t for the faint of heart. Or six-foot-four cowboys.

He opened his mouth, a quip about Jill’s bookkeeping on his lips by way of a greeting, but it lodged in his throat. A cough was all that made it through.

Jill Henley in a sleek pantsuit, hair as manicured as her nails—which was to say very—left enough of an impact on him and the adolescent fantasies she drummed up. The yellow sundress had almost done him in. But bent down in a pair of worn cutoff jeans, a ribbed tank top exposing the tops of some pretty damn perfect breasts?

Shit. He tried to swallow, but his throat was dry as the top of the canyon.

She was hunched over a mower that looked as if it’d gotten tangled up in the rocky field. His fingers itched. They craved to help her fix whatever issue had her curvy backside up in the air, long, tanned legs stretched beneath her like an invitation to a party he really wanted to attend.

Then again, he liked the view where he was.

She ran her hands through her wild curls, and jealousy at not being the one to feel those tendrils weaving through his own fingers consumed him. She dragged a grease-stained forearm along her forehead before settling her hands on her slender waist, and he longed to be those hands.

She kicked the tire of the mower, and he stifled a laugh. Okay, maybe it was time for him to pitch in.

Before he could announce his arrival, his phone rang. He winced. Damn, he should’ve turned the ringer down. Jill shot a glance his way, and he waved slowly, embarrassed at being caught ogling her. Her lips settled deeper into a scowl with every chime of his phone that echoed off the canyon walls.

“Yeah?” he answered. “Sorry,” he mouthed to her. She ignored his apology and went back to fiddling with the wrench and lug nuts.

“That your way of saying hello?” Bennett asked.

“I guess.” He made his way to the mower and held his hand out. She slapped the wrench in his palm and stood, brushing off her jean shorts. Jax swallowed hard. Aside from her dinner attire the other night, she’d never worn anything but slacks or boujee new jeans since she rode her Mercedes into town. And don’t think he didn’t dream of peeling those fancy city clothes off her curves and laying kisses over her expanse. But holy hell had he underestimated what seeing her in cutoffs would do. Namely make his own jeans a little tighter around the zipper.

“Tire or axle?” he whispered to Jill, covering the mouthpiece. She pointed to the tire. That was an easier fix, but that meant he’d be out of here sooner and he kinda liked the way her vanilla-laced scent mixed with the sweat of her exertion.

“Whataya want?” he asked Bennett.

“Just to see if you’ve had any hits on the ranch hand gig. I gave both our numbers in the ad.”

“Nope,” Jax said, throwing his weight into the torque. The wrench barely gave. Damn. Who’d tightened this thing last?

“You’d think it would be easier to find help when you run a million-dollar-a-year franchise, but damned if this isn’t like when we first started.”

We. He hadn’t started anything except answering Bennett’s call when Jax was laid up in the ER with a concussion. Their dad had run Matt off two years earlier and Bennett was dead set on fixing up the derelict property their dad had left when he passed a year later. Jax didn’t have much else going on—concussion protocol for his rodeo team said three months off, minimum—so he’d said yes, thinking it would be a temporary gig.

Now, a decade later, he wasn’t so sure. Even with a new job on the horizon, one that shook off the cobwebs that had been brewing in Jax’s stomach for a while now, he felt the duty to his family like a noose around his neck. It was getting harder to forget it was there, waiting for him to slip.

This time, the frustration of old memories behind his weight, he spun the lug nut. “Well, sooner or later, things’ll even out. It’s just been a good year, rain wise, so other ranches are coming back. Good help is harder to find when everyone’s breaking even.”

“Good point. And I’m glad things are turning around for our neighbors. Just wish it wasn’t feast or famine.”

“Yup. Well, I’ll keep you posted. Gotta run something by Henley.”

“Tell Jill we say hello.”

Jax nodded even though his brother couldn’t see him, then hung up, taking Jill’s scowl to mean he should hurry this along and get to the reason he was on her property. And keep his gaze off her tan, long legs.

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