Page 30 of Sweet Like Whiskey

I open my hand and hold up the little cowboy for him to see. “Look what I found in town. Kinda reminds me of someone.” I close my fist before adding, “I think I’ll keep him near my bed.”

The emotions that pass over Jackson’s face move almost too quickly to follow. But I don’t miss the nakedwant. It’s there, plain as day, before he hides it away behind a mask of indifference.

It’s all the confirmation I need.

Jackson doesn’t voice a response. He simply nods, once, and walks off.

I clutch the cowboy tighter in my hand.

I think I have my work cut out for me when it comes to Jackson Darling.

Chapter 8

Jackson

Fall hits swiftly.

One day, it’s sixty degrees out and sunny. And the next, the temperature is dropping into the low forties and it’s spitting rain, dampening the fields and making everybody, cattle included, miserable.

Everybody but one person, it seems.

“God, that’s gorgeous,” Ash says, standing in front of the big windows at the back of the house. The dining room has already cleared out, the lunch crowd having gone back to work. There’s a mop in Ash’s hand, but the mud on the floors seems to have been temporarily forgotten. “Don’t you think that’s gorgeous?”

It takes me a moment to move my focus off ofhim. Outside, the rain has cast a haze over everything, field and skyline both. “It’s…gray.”

I grunt when Ash whacks me on the chest.

“Gray can be gorgeous, too,” he says, shaking his head.

The brief flash of his smiling eyes is proof I can’t argue with.

When I turn around, trying to focus on the reason I came back here in the first place, Ash says, “Your hat is in the hall. It was hanging on your seat, but I set it aside when I flipped the chairs up to clean. You guys are a mess, you know that? Not that I’m complaining. Just stating a fact.”

Surprised he knew what I was looking for without my asking, I nod and head out into the hall. The hat is right where Ash said it’d be, on the old worn hutch. I plop the slightly damp material on my head and walk back through the dining room.

Before I can reach the door, Ash says, “You’re quiet today.”

I stop and look at him. “I’m always quiet.”

His lips twist. “No, you’re not. Short isn’t the same as quiet.”

He ignores my grunt.

“Is it the rain?” he asks, spinning the mop handle in his hands. His hair is curling more today, maybe because of the humidity. There’s a piece hitting his cheek, and for a second, I wait for him to tuck it back behind his ear. He doesn’t.

“Nobody’s in a good mood when it rains,” I point out.

His grin challenges that. “Sure,” he says easily. And then, “You look good wet, though.”

I pull in a breath.

Ash laughs as I storm out the door. He follows me, standing just inside the doorway as he calls, “Think we’ll get a rainbow later?”

I flick my hand over my shoulder.

“Have a good rest of your day, darlin’,” he yells.

The door thuds shut, and I shake my head, ignoring the stutter in my chest. Days. It’s beendaysof this. The flirting. The…darlin’.

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