Page 91 of Cowboys Can't Kiss

The rice steamer pings that the rice is ready, and Jackson moves back to check the wok. The meat sizzles when it hits the oil, and I watch mesmerized as he moves so easily around my kitchen.

“Give me your vegetables, Rye. You can fluff the rice and plate it.”

“Fluff the rice.” I snort a laugh, and he raises an eyebrow, but the tiny smile is there.

“You’re impossible.”

Jackson takes my offered vegetables and continues to cook as he hums the damn song from Lady and the Tramp again and it almost brings me to my knees. He’s so full of joy and comfortable in this element. It’s hard to imagine this man ever feeling like he can’t conquer whatever he puts his mind to.

I fluff the rice as instructed and giggle the whole time. Jackson tosses the cooking food in the wok like a professional before plating it on the bed of rice. He kisses me softly after placing a fork next to my plate.

“Tell me about your week. I know we talked on the phone while I was away, but talk to me. What else happened?”

“This is fantastic, Jack. You didn’t even measure stuff.”

“I told you. It’s one of my go-to meals. Don’t always expect me to cook that easy.”

We talk back and forth. Jackson tells me about how big the squirrels were at the campground they stayed at, and I tell him how I got caught in the rain because my umbrella fell apart.

We talk about the rodeo more and he tells me how well his friends are doing, but not once does he tell me he’s the circuit champion and has an invitation to the National Finals. I already know this because I looked it up online after he won the last rodeo.

The music still plays while we clean up our dinner mess, and even though it’s early September, part of me longs for a roaring fire to settle in front of with Jackson wrapped around me. Nothing in my life prepared me for the crushing wave of feelings that have just dragged me under while we cleaned up the kitchen together.

“Rye? You okay?”

“How come you don’t want to tell me you’re going to the National Finals? Aren’t you happy about it?”

Jackson hangs the towel on the handle of the stove and bites his lip.

“I’m thrilled about it.” He holds his hand out to me, and I step between his legs. “But I’d be happier if you’d come and watch me. I was going to bring it up later, but since you asked…would you want to spend four days with me in Elk Meadows?”

“You want me to come?”

“Of course I do. I want you to be the first one I kiss when I win that giant buckle.”

“First one? Better be the only one!”

I playfully try to shove him away, but he holds me tight.

His roughened thumb smooths across my cheek. “The first, the last, and the only one I ever want to kiss for the rest of my life.”

Swallowing hard, I lean in to kiss him softly.

“I like the sound of that.”

twenty-six

Jackson

Six Weeks Later

Ican’t believe I’m at the National Finals. After wrestling steers for almost twenty years, I’ve never made it before. I’ve been close many times and made a respectable living doing it, but I’ve never been to the pinnacle event of my sport.

Hunter sits on his horse, cool as a cucumber, while I’m almost vibrating out of my saddle.

“We’re going to win, Jack. Relax.”

“You sound pretty confident about that.”

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