Page 5 of The Cowboy's Surprise Return

Cole helped Jackie navigate the narrow staircase that led from Main Street to the apartment above the accounting office. She was leaning on him a bit more, the creaking stairs testing her hindered mobility. With her body pressed tight to his side, she smelled like strawberries. He considered carrying her, but it didn’t feel right, despite his desire to bring her ever closer. He got the impression she was holding on to something vital by a very thin string tonight, and that it might break if he didn’t tread carefully.

This fragility, if you could call it that, didn’t compute with the Jackie he’d always known. That woman was an unstoppable ray of sunshine. Not that this version wasn’t…

On the outside Jackie was still that warm, open, smiling woman who’d always made him perk up whenever she entered a room. You never knew what she’d do, but it was sure to lead to a few laughs. He and his brothers had always been a bit afraid of Jackie, fearing what might happen if she ever caught them on the playground after all that chasing.

But tonight, and actually, ever since his return, he’d noticed a hint of something-not-quite-right stalking her glowing smiles like a shadow. He’d said something to Brant, but his brother had brushed it off. Maybe she’d been like this for so long nobody had noticed?

Or maybe Cole was just wishing he wasn’t the only one entertaining ghosts and pain.

They had reached the landing at the top of the stairs, with an apartment door on either side. Jackie fumbled with her keys by the door to the right, and he took them, worked the lock, then pushed open the door.

“I always wondered what these apartments looked like,” he said, as she flicked on the lights. “I heard they have quite the wait list.”

The space was open, warm and cheerful, and smelled like Jackie’s fruity lip balm and vanilla. It was a far cry from the functional spaces he’d been staying in over the last several years. This was a home. There were thriving plants, cheerful prints on the walls, mismatched furniture that somehow all jived together, area rugs tossed willy-nilly over the old hardwood floors. He could picture it during the day, sun-soaked and bright thanks to the large windows overlooking the street.

“Home sweet home,” Jackie muttered. She’d taken a step away from him, but now reached out, tugging on his shirt. “Help me to the couch.” She pointed to the sitting area in front of them. A kitchen and eating nook were to the right, overlooking the street, and to the left was a wall with two doorways, likely leading to a bedroom and a bathroom.

He complied, patiently assisting her. She clung to him, the uneasiness and quiet shyness that had defined her around him since his return, gone. She was leaning heavily on him, comfortable being so close. He liked it. It hinted at something familiar, and it gave him hope, as if he’d eroded one of the many walls between him and the people he’d once known around town.

“So what other crazy animals do I need to know about in Sweetheart Creek?” he asked as he settled her on the couch, surprised to find that the fuzzy black pillow beside her was in fact a dog.

“None that I can think of other than this little beast,” Jackie said, giving her pet a fond pat. The medium-size dog had corkscrew curls, so long that its eyes were hidden behind the ridiculous shaggy fur. “This is Goose.” Her voice turned affectionate, and the canine wriggled across the cushions to curl up against her side.

“Has a lot changed since you left?” She winced as Cole helped elevate her leg, propping it on the coffee table in front of her. He slipped a silky red cushion under her heel.

When he summoned the courage to look at Jackie, her expression was open and curious. No apparent judgment, just welcoming acceptance. He wanted to soak it in, pull her into his arms and give her a hug.

“I was saying at Christmas that it seemed like nothing ever changed when I lived here. But it turns out all you have to do is go away for a few years. Then everything changes.” He chuckled, trying to disguise the ache in his chest that had somehow made its way into his voice.

“Well, I’m still the same.”

“No, you’re quieter.” He settled himself on the coffee table across from her. Cole knew he should return to his party, but felt like they were precariously perched on the cusp of something good, and he didn’t want to disturb whatever it might turn out to be. A conversation. A connection. A sense that he wasn’t alone. A shared smile. It was small, easy to overlook or dismiss, but it somehow felt… important. Like this was the place he was supposed to be right now.

“I’m not quieter!” She seemed surprised, her face scrunched into an adorable expression of protest.

“Around me you are.”

She scoffed, nothing more than a soft huff riding on a cloud of disbelief, but it made him smile, anticipating what she’d say next.

“Well, that’s because I have a secret crush on you, and now that you’re here in the flesh it’s very difficult to think and speak.” She flashed that flirtatious, fun grin he loved so much. She did such a good job of putting on the facade that he almost forgot about the sadness darkening her blue, hazel-flecked eyes. “I mean, if you stay a moment longer I can’t be responsible for what I might do to you.”

“Most women in your position would have ripped my clothes off already,” he said, playing along. “You didn’t fake this fall just to get me alone, did you?”

She choked with amused disbelief. “You think you’re worth this?” She held up her shredded palm and gestured to her swollen knee. “Your ego always was mighty huge, Cole.” She narrowed her eyes and dropped her voice an octave, sending tingles up his spine as she batted her lashes. “I’m glad to see that hasn’t changed.”

He chuckled. There was something about Jackie Moorhouse that made him want to kiss her.

“Where’s your first aid kit?” he asked.

“I don’t have one.”

“You’re right. You haven’t changed, despite being quieter.” He sighed loudly, as though bearing a burden. “Wild and out of control, living life without a first aid kit.”

She laughed. “And do you have one. Wild Wylder?”

He tensed at the old nickname. “I’m sure there’s one on the ranch,” he said mildly. “So I own part of one.”

Jackie laughed, the sound rich and contagious. Her face lit up, reminding him of the girl she used to be. The layer of tension and worry that had been present lifted, and it was as though everything in her world had been righted again.

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