Page 67 of Burned & Bound

I scoffed, shaking my head.That was so far from the fucking truth.

“And the horses?” she asked again. “I’m sure it’s nice being back with the horses. Well… unless, you had horses where you were at…”

“Ma, stop asking already,” Jackson cut in. “It doesn’t matter where he was.”

“I just worry!”

“I know,” he said, “but you’re getting annoying—”

A knock at the door interrupted our conversation.Thank fuck.

“Oh, who the hell could that be? Hold on, boys, I’ll be right back,” she told us as she hurried toward the door. When she was gone, I blew out a long breath and sank back into the uncomfortable chair.

“May I?” Jackson’s hand hovered over mine. I did my best to bite back my frown. Damn it. I hated that he did this. It made me feel even more broken than I already knew I was. He just sat there with that stupidly calm look on his face.Just waiting for permission to touch me like he did every fucking time we made contact.There was no way in hell he did this with anyone else.

Fucking hell.

“Yeah,” I muttered. He lowered his hand, fingers curling around mine. I tried to keep from tensing—from going rigid at the simple contact. Every place his hand touched mine was on fire.Burning across every fucking nerve.

I wanted this. Wasn’t that why I kissed him? My head was all sorts of fucked up over this shit—way more than I probably should’ve been.

“You good?” Jackson asked.I fucking hated that goddamn question.

“Yeah,” I repeated. “She just keeps talking about the same shit.”

“I know.” He sighed, rubbing at his beard slightly. “She gets like that. Overall, she’s doing good, you know? But sometimes, her age shows. That’s all. You just haveto…”

“Deal with it?” I finished for him, and he nodded.Just deal with it.I was used to that life philosophy.

“Pretty much.”

I didn’t envy him. Watching her decline sounded fucking miserable. I had nothing to offer him that could help, but I did manage to squeeze his hand once in a feeble attempt to comfort him. It seemed to work as he smiled.That smile did something uncomfortable to my heart.

“Jackson!” Mrs. Myles called from the door. “Come out here, handsome. Some of the ladies want to see you!”

“That’s my cue,” Jackson announced and got to his feet, groaning as he went. It was all a little too dramatic to come across as real.

“You like this shit, don’t you?” I asked, my eyes narrowing.

“Me? Never,” he scoffed. But he winked before turning away.Fucker.He really did enjoy this limelight shit.

“Jesus fuck, you’re an old lady magnet,” I said as we walked across the parking lot to his truck. Two hours. For two hours, this fucker took pictures and flirted with old ladies. He could say whatever the fuck he wanted, but that man enjoyed the attention. It was the tiniest insight into understanding that Jackson enjoyed being a professional bull rider more than he ever enjoyed running the ranch. “I can’t believe your mom fucking makes them pay for pictures with you.”

“She puts the money in the weekly poker pot.” He laughed. “Besides, my old ladies love me.”

“Old ladies, buckle bunnies, screwing over straight men… sounds like you like the whole bull riding thing.”

“It has its moments,” Jackson replied, clearly trying to be nonchalant about the whole thing. I had a feeling he was holding back on me, but I wasn’t about to push the matter.Not right now.I was a little too irritable for that shit. Something—maybe everything—about the whole trip had rubbed me raw. Mrs. Myles, Jackson, all the questions. I was so far in my head questioning all of it that I was frustrated as fuck with myself.

Insteadof going to the driver’s side, he moved to my door and opened it. I stopped dead in my tracks.

“Why the fuck are you opening my door?” I demanded.

“Because I wanted to.”

“You don’t have to fucking do that,” I told him. “I can open my own damn door.”

“I know you can, but I still wanted to.” He held out a hand to me. “May I?”

---