Page 24 of Sweet Temptation

“Like in the nineteenth century?”

“I suppose. Or that TV show with that religious family and a bazillion kids. I think Mom will really buy into the old-fashioned charm.”

“If you say so.”

“What we do need to work out is the story I’m going to tell her about how we met. I was thinking… Last summer I took our class on an outing to NASA. Can you think of any way we could have run into each other?”

That took a little thought. “NASA isn’t exactly in the middle of downtown Houston or near where I live. Of course, your mother doesn’t have to know where I live.” She thought a little more and then leaned forward again. “Where did y’all have lunch?”

“Lunch?” He looked to the ceiling a moment “Some lunch joint. Nothing special.”

“Rudy’s is a favorite barbecue place. They’re all over Texas but more in Houston and Austin. We could say we met there during lunch. I had to wait for all the kids to order and you were very kind and stopped the next kid from ordering so I could get my order in first.”

“Well, that was nice of me.” That smile was doing weird things to her stomach. “And I actually do love Rudy’s. Their creamed corn is to die for.”

“Right?” She sat up, absurdly excited to learn he liked the same food she did. As good as their barbecue was, it was the corn that kept her coming in to eat.

“But we didn’t see each other again until you had a job opportunity in Millers Creek—that, of course, didn’t pan out?”

She wasn’t quite sure if that was a statement or a question, so she simply nodded.

“Good, then we have a plan?”

“We do.” It felt oddly nice to be working together with Garret.

He pushed to his feet, and extended his hand to her. “Come on. I’ll take you downstairs to Dad’s study and you can print that resume for the application.”

Immediately her fingers curled around his and her stomach did that funny rolling thing again. She’d expected him to let go of her hand once she was standing, but he didn’t. He held on as they left the room, walked down the hall, descended the stairs, and then crossed into the study. What she didn’t know, was if this had been simply for show, hoping to bump into his mother, or if this was real. In her head she understood this was probably just the first of many performances for family and friends, but still a small part of her kind of hoped maybe it was just a little real.

Chapter Ten

A day of hunching over student papers had Garret’s shoulders aching deep in his bones. Seventh graders weren’t exactly known for their penmanship, and after reading thirty essays on the Civil War, his eyes burned almost as much as his back. A hot shower and maybe ten minutes of quiet before dinner would do the trick.

The house was unusually quiet. Dropping his satchel by the door, he called out, “Mom?”

“In here,” his mother’s voice carried from the kitchen. She was elbow deep in bread dough. “How was school?”

“The usual.” He glanced around the kitchen. “Where’s Jackie?”

“Out in the barn with Clint.”

“Clint?” Something uncomfortable settled in Garret’s chest.

“He’s showing her how to muck stalls.” Eyes twinkling with amusement, his mother straightened, her gaze locking with his. “Clint was in here giving me an update on the wild horses’ movements, and how the fence lines have been holding up. When he said he’d be off to muck the stalls, she offered to help.”

“She did?” That should have surprised him, and yet, somehow, it didn’t.

“I asked her if she knew what it meant, and had she ever done it.” His mom chuckled. “I’ll tell you something. For a city girl, she’s got gumption.”

Considering she was willing to take him on for a year, all to save a stranger’s family ranch, gumption might be the perfect word to describe Jacqueline Drake. Kissing his mom on the cheek, he crossed the yard, making his way to the barn. He could hear laughter before he even reached the wide doors—Jackie’s bright giggle followed by Clint’s deeper chuckle. The sound made something twist in his gut.

Pulling open the door, he squinted into the dimmer interior. Jackie stood in the center aisle, a pitchfork in hand, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. Wisps had escaped to frame her face. It was a nice face.

Clint leaned against a stall door, one elbow resting on, or perhaps balancing, his own pitch fork. Objectively, Garret knew Clint was good-looking in that weathered cowboy way. The lone ranch hand probably looked much younger than his actual years. For a second Garret contemplated a number, settling on late forties, give or take half a dozen. Much older than Jackie, but not that much older. It shouldn’t have bothered him, except, it did.

“How’s it going?” Garret stepped into the barn.

“Garret! I didn’t hear you come in.” A smile firmly intact, she gestured proudly to a half-cleaned stall. “I’m learning to muck.”

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