by Tessa Bowen
“I just think you need to go your own way for a while—really figure out what it is that you want.”
“I want you.”
“Right now you do, but you’ll get bored, Lorelai—you’re too spirited to be content with a life here.”
“I could never be bored here, and I’ve never felt more excited than when I’m with you. When are you going to forgive yourself for your past mistakes and allow yourself to be happy?”
“Would we be happy, or would we just eat each other alive?”
“I’m not cursed,” she said, as if trying to convince not only him, but herself. “I’m just spirited and you’re too cowardly to take me on.”
Her words were like a dagger to his heart, because they were so to the point. When she turned to leave him, it nearly dropped him. He knew if he let her walk away, she’d be gone for good.
“Lorelai, wait…”
She turned and faced him, the light had gone out of her eyes.
“Wait for what? There is nothing left to wait for Jeb. You won’t have me.”
“I won’t have you…?” He repeated the words in disbelief. “I’d be the luckiest man on earth to have you, it’s just more complicated than that.”
“If you truly believe that, then why won’t you give this a chance?”
“Five days, Lorelai—it’s only been five days. What are the odds of it working out? I don’t want either of us to get hurt again. We’ve both been hurt enough for one lifetime.”
“You won’t even try, I thought you were a wild romantic. I was wrong about you.”
She looked at him with such disappointment and disapproval that he had no choice but to drop his gaze to his boots once more.
“I can’t live my life that way anymore, Lorelai. It’s too risky…”
“Too risky?” she scoffed. “And this coming from a man who used to ride bucking two thousand pound animals.”
“Each one of those rides could have ended in disaster. This could too. I know I just seemed like a reckless kid back then, but I had to keep my head. That was a life or death sport. I have to keep my head now, for your sake, not only mine—and its already been proven I can’t keep my head around you.”
“You’re breaking my heart, Jeb Jackson.”
He went to his knees before her in a show of supplication. “Darlin’, I’m sorry.”
Her spine went stiff as a ramrod. She squared her shoulders and looked down her nose at him. She had collected herself, become what she was raised to be—a lady. He already missed his wild Lorelai.
“Let’s not turn this into a soap opera. I’m sorry I made a fool of myself. And I’m sorry I’ve ruined the last five days of your life. In parting, I would also like to say thank you. I may have not gotten what I came here for, but you were kind to me in my hour of need. If it weren’t for you, I’d be staring down at the bottom of an empty pill bottle.”
“Where will you go?” he asked, his voice breaking.
She shrugged. “Home, not to Dallas, but to the farm. Perhaps I’ll drive to California first. Wet my legs in the ocean. My bottom half may turn into a fish tail then I can swim far, far away.”
“Lorelai…”
“Goodbye Jeb, I’m sure you’ll make some lady very happy one day.”
Jeb let out the breath he’d been holding when she headed for the horizon, the breath came out as an animalistic howl, which he smothered in his fist. He wanted to grab for her, call out to her that she wasn’t wearing any shoes. It was a long way back to the ranch. His mother would box his ears for allowing a lady to walk barefoot over the rugged Montana terrain. He couldn’t let her ride the mustang on her own and he couldn’t ride with her again either. If he felt her body near him once more, they’d both be prisoners. As it was, he still had the intoxicating smell of her all around him.
Resting on his haunches, a searing pain in his heart, Jeb Jackson wondered if by trying to do right by her, he’d made the second biggest mistake of his life. He supposed he would never know. She was right. He was a coward.
He watched her walk away until her pretty pink dress was just a dot on the horizon. The mermaid was gone—back to the sea she’d go—she’d told him so. He would once again be a lonely cowboy in a big lonely house, but he’d never forget his Lorelai and what might have been.
Her siren song would haunt him for years to come.
JEB WAS ONLY LONELY FOR ANOTHER MONTH, but oh what a lonely month it had been, the loneliest of his existence. Now, blessedly, the kitchen bustled with activity as his brother’s stunning wife pulled one of her world-famous pies out of the oven.
She clapped in delight while John admired her across the table.
“Oh, it’s the first peach pie of the season!” she tittered.
Daphne squirmed in her highchair.
“How long until that thing cools down,” John asked. “The Duck is about to break loose.”
“Just a few minutes,” the Baroness sang.
Jeb noticed the laughter in his brother’s eyes as he took in his wife’s huge belly. The gingham apron she wore stretched tight over the swell.
“You look mighty cute in that getup, little wife.”
Abigail narrowed her eyes at her husband. “Don’t you dare laugh at me. You did this to me and I’m anything but little.”
Jeb remembered how buttoned up the Baroness had been when she’d first come to the ranch. She was still one of the most outrageously gorgeous women he’d ever seen, dressed impeccably, if a bit more casually. She was a looser version of herself. Jeb recalled the transformation Lorelai had gone through in the five days she’d stayed at Jackson ranch.
From sequins to coveralls.
John jammed a thumb in his brother’s direction. “Seriously, Abbie. We need that pie—and this one over here looks like he’s about to cry.”
“Don’t be cruel to your brother, he’s heartbroken.”
Daphne began to hop up and down in her seat, letting out quacks of ravenous fury.
“Oh dear,” Abbie said worriedly. “I better plop some ice cream on that pie quick. That should cool it sufficiently.”
“Serve her peach soup, whatever you’ve got to do. Don’t mess with the Duck.”
Abbie hurried to serve them their pie. They sat around the table together, Jeb pushing his dessert around his plate.
“Look at this, he’s not even eating.”
“Had a big lunch,” he mumbled.
“Bullshit, I ate lunch with you. You ate half a sandwich, a bird’s portion.”
Abbie reached for Jeb’s hand across the table. “Dearest, what will you do? You can’t go on like this.”
“She must have been some humdinger. She was only here for five days and you’re totally wrecked.”
Shipwrecked—crashed against the rocks.
Jeb pushed his plate away. “She was a humdinger all right. Sorry, Abbie—not in the mood for pie tonight. Ducky can have mine.”
Abigail placed the pie on Daphne’s highchair tray. The baby promptly put both fists straight in the middle of the dessert, puncturing the carefully crafted crust.
John laughed. “That’s my girl.”
“A humdinger,” the Baroness repeated in her delightful English accent. “I’m afraid I don’t know what this word means.”
“It means she turned his world upside down and now he’s a shell of his former self.”
“Can you kindly fuck off, brother,” Jeb bristled.
“He never swears at me,” John said to Abbie. “This is bad—real bad. Abbie’s right, you need to do something about this. I’m not having a sap at the supper table every night.”
Jeb glowered across the table. “Johnny…” he warned.
“And now he’s glaring. I miss your crooked fruitcake smile. Go get this goddamn girl, so we can all be happy again.”
“It’s too late. I blew it.”
“Blew what exactly?” Abigail inquired.
“It’s a long story, she came here in bad shape, harbored feeling
s for me from way back. I got her straightened out and we had…uh…sort of a whirlwind romance, but I ended it before it really started. It all seemed too fast. And she’s well…tempestuous. I couldn’t handle her, or myself for that matter.”
“It all sounds very exciting,” Abbie remarked.
“That’s her favorite word. She says she finds me exciting in all ways.”
“Well, you Jackson men are very exciting.”
“That’s right, baby,” John boasted and then turned his attention back to his brother. “So, she said she finds you exciting in all ways, huh? And you let her walk out of here. What kind of knucklehead are you?”
“Jeb, darling—are you in love with this girl, this mysterious girl who fell from the sky.”
Jeb scrubbed his hands over his face. “Probably, and I think she rose up from the ocean, rather than falling from the sky.”
“Is that why you’ve been carving all those cornball mermaids?”
“John!” Abigail chastised.
Ducky chastised him too, with a loud squawk and a fistful of pie tossed straight at his shirtfront.
John wiped the mess away and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “Look at me, little brother, stop kneading your face like bread dough and look at me.”
Jeb dropped his hands with a sigh.
“Let me guess, this girl reminds you of Sophie. Furthermore you haven’t had feelings like this since Sophie, so you’re scared shitless. Am I right?”
“That pretty much sums things up. Except she’s not a brunette, she’s a blonde.”
“About time you ditch the brunettes, blondes bring good luck.”
Abigail fussed with her pale chignon, giving it a proud pat. “This is wonderful news, dearest. You’re in love.”
Jeb groaned. “It’s not wonderful news, she’s lost at sea.”
“Cut the mermaid bullshit. And go get this girl. Don’t let a little fire scare you. So what, she’s what did you say…tempestuous? Sounds like the two of you will have a high old time. If you give the girl what she wants, maybe she’ll calm down. Yep, you blew it all right. Time to get off your ass.”
“I think my husband is right,” Abigail agreed. “It’s time to get off your rear and claim your lady fair, Sir Jeb.”
John winked at his wife across the table. “Your husband is right about another thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I think it’s time to go upstairs so I can get you out of that apron and—”
“Hush, you scoundrel.”
“Will you put the kid to bed?” John asked his brother.
“Sure.”
The couple rose, bestowing good night kisses to Daphne’s cheeks. John laid a steadying hand on Jeb’s shoulder.
“Have I been heard?”
“Yes, brother.”
Jeb watched Abbie and John climb the steps to their bedroom. John was already tugging on Abbie’s apron strings. He knew a pang of longing so deep that it made him reach for his niece. Holding her close would help ease him. She was docile in his arms, as he wiped her precious face clean with a moist cloth, probably coming down from the sugar. He kissed her downy hair until she cooed against his ear. He wondered if he’d ever hold his own child. When he was done tidying her up, he cradled her so she could look at him. They shared a soulful gaze.
“You’ve always loved your Uncle Jeb, haven’t you?”
Ducky cheeped sleepily as he rocked her.
“Should I go get the girl?”
She blinked, her eyes widening a bit, the question making her more alert.
She cheeped again, this time a little louder.
“You won’t be jealous?”
She flapped her long lashes at him and then her brow furrowed. She let out a moderately loud quack.
He rocked the baby. “Don’t worry, you’ll always be number one. Do you believe in destiny, Ducky?”
“Quack!”
Jeb jumped a little at the sheer volume of her quack.
“And you think I should go get the girl?”
“Quack! Quack!”
“What if the girl is actually a mermaid?”
Ducky’s bright blue eyes grew very round, and then she exploded with a fresh round of duckling sounds. “Quack! Quack! Quaaaaaccck!”
Ducky had given her answer, and it was a resounding yes. It seemed she approved of her uncle bringing home a mermaid. She’d also given him a good pep talk—or peep talk. He bundled her into his embrace and made his way to the nursery.
“I have my orders, Duck. Thanks for the advice.”
Jeb tucked the baby in then turned to leave the room. It was time to go get the girl, claim his lady, or mermaid or whatever she was. Otherwise he’d never hear the end of it.
Chapter Six
Lorelai brushed the sleek coat of the horse with rhythmic strokes. She found it as soothing as the horse did. She straightened her high ponytail as well as her proper English riding habit. Yes, she was playing the part of the well-bred lady these days, but it would only last a little while longer. Her parents had been glad to see her, welcomed her with open arms. It made her mother happy when she wore her formal equestrian gear when she rode, instead of just jeans and a t-shirt.
Lorelai threw a look over her shoulder, peering through the open barn doors to scan the landscape of her family’s farm. She saw neat green pastures and gently rolling hills. The landscape was manicured to perfection. It was nothing like Montana. She turned back to the horse, swallowing the lump in her throat. No, she wouldn’t be here for long. She’d driven to Northern California, before she’d turned and headed back to Texas. She’d seen the Oregon coast too, enjoyed the vast redwood forests of the region. Lorelai knew she wanted to be near nature, in a place as untamed as she was. Soon she’d set out again and find a life for herself—a life alone.
She saddled the horse, swallowing another lump. There was no need to be sorrowful. Her time with Jeb Jackson had taught her a lot about herself—who she really was, what made her happy. And because of him, she’d started riding again. Not that riding this slender filly was anything like the wild ride he’d taken her on. She recalled their messy day in the barn, birthing lambs. She’d known pure joy as well as true fulfillment. She believed she’d found her calling. It wasn’t too late to go to veterinary school. Her parents would blanch at the prospect but caring for animals would be a worthy cause. She’d certainly be able to leave her sequins behind and everything that went with them.
She was trying her hardest to behave, to make level-headed decisions, be a grown-up. Her reckless conduct as well as her immaturity had cost her a chance at love. Not entirely she supposed. In the end, he had been too wounded to pursue what was between them. Lorelai fought not to resent him, practicing maturity as best she could. He’d shown her that men could be kind and caring and he’d certainly straightened her out. Now she just had to stay straight. Still, she wondered how she’d ever accept another man into her heart. She’d known him intimately for those sweet moments in the clover. Her soul was not only sealed to his, but her body was as well.
Lorelai laid a hand to her blushing cheek.
He’d been only the second man she’d slept with in her life—she’d never known it could be so blissful. She did have a fair amount of growing up to do. She needed more life experience.
Maybe in another eight years, Jeb.
She reached into the pocket of her habit and withdrew the mermaid carving. Wistfully, she ran her finger across the ridges and scalloped edges of the fine work, brushing her lips to the places he’d whittled, before tying it to her saddle. As she did each time she rode.
She grabbed up the reins to lead the horse out of the barn. Just as she turned, a shadow filled the doorway. Shafts of sunlight outlined a form, backlighting the powerful shoulders of a man. When he took a step forward, she saw him clear as day, plaid shirt in place, jeans, boots—green eyes intent on her.
She wasn’t dreaming and she wasn’t high on Xanax. Jeb
Jackson was standing in the barn, not eight feet from her.
She leaned on the horse for support. “What…what are you doing here? It hasn’t been eight years.”
“Don’t you mean what in tarnation…? That’s what I said when you turned up in your sequins, remember?”
Lorelai swallowed hard. “You’re not wearing any sequins.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “Never was that kind of cowboy.”
“You’re supposed to be in Montana, this is Texas.”
“You’re in Texas, so I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”
“Did my father call you because I’m so broken-hearted?” she accused in a defensive tone. “He did, didn’t he? He’s afraid I will start up my pill habit again. Well, I’m perfectly sober—not the least bit ‘whacked out’. I don’t plan on ever taking another pill again, so you can just mosey your way back to Montana.”
“I was a fool to let you walk away,” he said simply.
Lorelai’s mouth went dry, but she managed to stare down her nose at him. “I agree. Although, I am rather difficult to deal with…” She trailed off because he was so impossibly handsome and so precious to her eyes. He was precious to her in every way. “I never thought I’d see you again,” she confessed softly.
“I can’t quit you, Lorelai. You said I was breaking your heart that day, but I broke my own heart when I allowed you to leave.”
His eye caught the tiny mermaid strapped to the saddle. Slowly, he advanced. Lorelai stood straight as a sapling, her face scarlet as he reached out and caressed a finger over the blue green carving with loving care.
He continued calmly. “I’m at your door this time.”
“You’re in the barn,” she whispered, as if trying to convince herself of this truth. “Have…have you developed a pill habit?”
“No sequins and no pill habit,” he drawled. “Although I am short on sleep—long drive, like you said. What I mean, Lorelai, is that I’m at your door, figuratively, that is.”
When he dropped the carving and palmed the side of her face instead, she leapt in surprise. The heat of his hand was like a searing brand on her cheek.
