Trying the Knot

by J. M. Madden

  Jackson didn't understand why that would be an issue unless she was buying him the car, but whatever.

  In general Jackson tried not to intimidate people with his size, but today he didn't do anything to diminish himself. Neil overcompensated by talking too loudly and bragging too much, but Jackson just let him run on.

  They toured two small ranches, but they hadn't been right. When Jackson had gotten the idea to buy a chunk of land down here it hadn't been a huge sacrifice. The Lowell family had connections all over the state and came to Houston a lot for rodeos and futurities and the like. Emily had always complained that she didn't want to live on the Blue Star, which was several hours away from Houston. But if the ranch that was her home sat just outside of the city, he didn't think she'd have as much of an issue.

  At least that was the reasoning he was using for himself right now. If she wouldn't come to the ranch he would bring the ranch to her.

  The third property they looked at had potential but seemed small for the high six figure price.

  "Oh, and the adjoining lot, another twenty-eight acres is for sale as well, by the same owner," Neil said.

  "The larger piece is overpriced,” Jackson told him flatly, “but if he would throw in the second lot I would consider it."

  The realtor's eyes widened at the thought of the potential, but he whipped out his smart phone and started typing onto the screen. "I'll have my assistant feel him out about that."

  They looked at two more properties before Jackson reached his very tolerant threshold. There was no was getting around it, Neil Shepherd was slime.

  Why couldn't Emily see the avaricious light in his eyes at the thought of a commission, and the single-minded determination to be the top dog? Neil talked about his fiancée as if she needed to be told what to do for everything. Several times Jackson almost broke into his complaining to stand up for Emily, but he didn't want to reveal himself yet.

  When Jackson had Neil drop him off at the Martin training complex, his eyes gleamed even more greedily. Everyone in Houston knew the Martin family, as well as the money they controlled.

  Neil mentioned that he'd never met Holt Martin, but Jackson ignored the not-so-subtle hint, climbed out of the car and walked away without a backward glance. The realtor would get back to him, he was sure. Jackson had a significant amount of money to spend.

  Ignoring the text messages pinging his cell phone, he retrieved the colt Holt wanted him to train. The little horse was a good type, strong and smart with just a little hesitation. The perfect animal for Jackson to train.

  As Jackson saddled him up to enter the ring, he debated when he needed to contact Emily. He'd driven past her towering office tower downtown to see where she worked but hadn't bothered to stop. He wanted the housing situation to be settled before he confronted her.

  The horse did everything Jackson guided him to do, though the tasks may have been a little odd. They walked over tarps and around tires. The entire premise of training was based on the horse trusting everything Jackson told him to do. So far, he had a perfect heart and did more than Jackson instructed. Whoever had broken him—Holt, he assumed—had done an excellent job. Now it was up to Jackson to refine those skills.

  As he loped him around the edge of the ring Jackson became aware that he had an audience. It didn't bother him. He'd performed before people many times and had even given a few clinics at the Blue Star. If he had a mic on he could tell the hands what he was doing and why. Well, maybe. Some of the things he did were instinctive and had no explanation other than his heart told him to do it.

  It was the same with Emily. There was no manual for her, so Jackson was forced to do what his heart was instructing him to do.

  When the colt began to get a little frustrated, Jackson took him back a step to something he'd already learned and mastered. He let him complete the task successfully then reined him up. It was always good to end on a positive note.

  Holt stood leaning against the wall, smiling slightly. Jackson had learned that Holt always seemed to be smiling, no matter the situation. When he trained Montana, the colt he'd been given, Holt smiled. When the feed delivery was late and Holt was berating someone on the phone he was still smiling, but there was a darker edge to it.

  Holt reminded him of Brock in a way. The job was going to be done and done well or there was going to be hell to pay.

  "He's looking good," Holt commented as he fell in to step beside him.

  "Montana has a great disposition,” Jackson told him honestly. “If you cultivate him correctly you'll make a nice penny on him."

  They cooled the horse and settled him into his stall.

  "Come up to the house with me and have dinner," Holt offered.

  Jackson had no reason to say no. It had been a while since he'd had more than convenience food.

  They rode a golf cart up a shaded lane to a massive ranch house. The tan stucco mansion would have seemed cold if it wasn't for the huge wooden beams that decorated the outside. Holt led them into a rear entrance. Jackson supposed it was a mud room, although that seemed not quite right. It was too pristine. He was used to nice at the Lowell's home, but this put even their home to shame. They walked into the kitchen and there were appliances on the marble counters he had never even seen before, let alone used. But there was also a warm, welcoming smell drifting through the air, and pans simmered on the enormous stovetop.

  A curvy woman in her late twenties or early thirties entered the kitchen, smiling, and Jackson was confused. He didn't think Holt was attached to anyone, but the man gave her a burning look before his expression cooled.

  "Gretchen, this is Jackson Windwalker. Jackson, Gretchen, my housekeeper slash nanny. She does everything I don’t think about,” he laughed, then glanced at the woman. “ Jackson is staying with us for a couple weeks till he gets some personal business sorted out. Hope you don't mind I invited him for dinner."

  "Of course not, Holt. Holly is in her room but I'll call her. Dinner is almost ready."

  He nodded and headed toward the double-sided refrigerator. "We'll just get a glass of tea while we wait."

  Holt handed Jackson a frosty glass of sweet tea, then led him in to sit at a massive wood-planked dining room table.

  "I'm happy with what you're doing with the colt. Are you making headway with your woman?"

  Jackson grinned, caught a little off guard. "How did you know I came down for a woman?"

  Holt returned his grin, dropping his hat onto the chair beside him. "Only a woman would make you consider moving hours away from your home and completely changing your lifestyle."

  Jackson laughed, hooking his arm over the back of the chair beside him. "She's worth it, but she's with this city boy that doesn't know what he has."

  Holt nodded in understanding. "So you're buying property here?"

  Jackson nodded. "If she won't come home to me, I'll come to her. I can train horses anywhere as long as I have a place to do it."

  "What are you looking for?"

  Shrugging, he leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. "I'd love a hundred acres. Decent house. Doesn't have to be perfect but at least something I can renovate. Barn, training ring."

  Holt blinked, his cool chocolate eyes considering. "What are you thinking of paying? Property like that isn't cheap in Houston."

  "I know," Jackson agreed. "I'm comfortable up to three million."

  Holt's eyebrows shot up and he laughed. "Damn, boy! Training horses has worked for you."

  Yeah, it had. "I live on the Lowell place rent free and most of my horses sell over a hundred grand. Even after reinvesting in stock I still make good money. And it all gets socked away."

  A considering light had entered Holt's expression. "Let me make a call or two. I might have a place for you to look at. Unless you're buddy-buddy with that realtor I saw dropping you off?"

  Jackson laughed and shook his head. "Hell, no. That's my competition."

  Holt threw back his head and laughed. "I like you, J
ackson. That sounds like something I would do."

  "I like you too, Holt. Thank you for having me here."

  "You are always welcome. Even if you do get your own place."

  A young girl about twelve years old entered the dining room. She looked like a softer, feminine version of Holt, dark haired and chocolate eyed. The girl stopped at a chair and gave Jackson a smile, but barely looked at her father.

  "Jackson, this is my daughter Holly. Holly, say hello to Jackson. He's staying here a while."

  "Hello, Jackson," the girl repeated obediently.

  "Hello, Holly."

  The girl looked uncomfortable to be there and Jackson wasn't sure why. Gretchen entered the room carrying several large platters of food. She set them on the table and urged Holly to sit down and eat. The girl did, frowning.

  Jackson could have cut the tension with a knife and he had no idea what was going on between the Martins, but it wasn't his place to question.

  Gretchen brought out two more platters of side dishes before disappearing into the kitchen. Jackson had thought that the woman would join them, but she didn't. Had he been wrong about the look between the two of them when they'd first come in?

  The fried chicken was delicious, as good as Mama Lowell's, and by the time dinner was over he was stuffed. It was the best meal he'd had since coming to Houston, and when Gretchen returned to start gathering up the dishes, he told her so.

  The young woman's cheeks flushed pink at the compliment and she inclined her head. "Thank you very much, Mr. Windwalker. I made plenty so if you'd like to take some to the apartment I can pack you a container."

  Jackson knew when not to look a gift horse in the mouth. "I would love that, Gretchen. Thank you."

  The woman disappeared back into the kitchen. Holly took the chance and disappeared as well.

  "Are you hitting on my housekeeper, Jackson?" Holt asked, an edge to his voice.

  Jackson looked at him for a long moment before shaking his head. "I'm not. My heart is already taken. Gretchen would make some man a wonderful wife, though. Don't you think?"

  Holt scowled and looked like he wanted to push up from the table, but he stayed completely still. "Yes, I'm sure she would."

  The conversation shifted and they were back to horses again and soil pH levels, and all manner of other things ranchers worried about.

  Chapter Nine

  "I'm working with this rich redskin and I want to go out to dinner with him. I told him you would join us, make it a little more casual. I think I can make a hell of a commission off this guy."

  Emily scowled into her phone, hating when he talked about people like that. Yes, they were looking for houses and sometimes had no idea what was out there, she got that, but he could be nicer about describing them. Perhaps she could lead by example. "Fine. What time?"

  "I'll pick you up at eight. Wear that pretty black and red dress you have. And heels. I want to show you off."

  Emily rolled her eyes, but tried to keep an open mind. She hadn't seen Neil for a week because he'd been schmoozing this guy. Apparently, the man was looking for a ranch in the area, someplace he could work with horses.

  Emily wondered if perhaps this was someone her family knew. The Lowell name was well-known when it came to Quarter Horses.

  At seven fifty-three Neil texted that he was waiting in front of her condo. Rolling her eyes, Emily grabbed the little black bolero jacket that went with the dress and grabbed her purse. She locked the front door, dropped her keys in the purse and walked to the elevator. From the response of the doorman she could tell she looked good, even before Neil looked up from his phone in his hand. Rather than get out of the car and open her door he gave her a wave and looked back down at his phone. Emily was tempted to stand on the curb, waiting for him to get out and circle the car to open her door for her, but she didn't think he'd get the message. Luckily, Eric the doorman was there to open her door for her. Giving him a brilliant smile, Emily slid into the car, tucking her skirt around her thighs.

  "You look hot, babe. I like what you did with your hair."

  Emily reached up to check the chignon. It had been a pain in the ass to get in place but she was happy with it now. She'd allowed a few curls to hang down and curl in the heat of the evening. She'd also taken pains with her make-up. Though she wasn't the beauty that her sister Cheyenne was, she felt like she cleaned up fairly well.

  Neil talked on the phone on the way to the restaurant, allowing Emily to look out the window at the Houston skyline. It was so beautiful at night, and the city was so vital. People were out and about on the downtown streets and doing things. She'd lived here for years but didn't feel like she'd learned everything she could about it yet. And it was changing constantly. Most of their advertising business was with young, energetic entrepreneurs just starting in the Houston area. Emily loved having a part in making them successful.

  The restaurant was one she'd been to before, high end and well known for their steaks, of course. This was a man's meeting, after all. After he dropped the car off with the valet, Neil took her arm and walked her through the door and into the restaurant.

  Emily's first niggle that something was off was when they were walking back to the table. There was a man sitting in a chair, his broad back to them, a long, thick black braid hanging down the center of his back. The hostess stopped at the table and smiled at the man, then stood aside as Neil and Emily arrived. Emily felt like her heart was in her throat as she drew up to the table and looked down into the face of her former lover.

  Neil didn't even seem to notice anything was amiss. He held out his hand to Jackson and shook, then introduced her. "Jackson this is my fiancée Emily Lowell."

  Her mind spinning, Emily reached for his hand as he stood. Jackson's bright blue eyes danced as he looked down into her shocked face. "Hello, Emily."

  "Jackson," Emily said softly.

  Neil was looking at her oddly, but she couldn't tell him anything yet. She didn't have any breath left in her body. Circling the table, she settled into a chair. It was only a four-person table and she didn't want to sit directly in front of Jackson—Neil would want that spot so they could talk business. She realized how much she'd screwed up though when her knee brushed his own as he sat to her right. Jackson was especially tall, so of course he would take up more room.

  Glancing at him from beneath her lashes, she tried to see if he was bumping into her on purpose, but he only wore a polite smile on his face. Neil was rambling on about the area and how good the steaks were here and didn't seem concerned that she was almost panicking. A hand clasped hers beneath the table and her eyes flew to Jackson.

  The man had the gall to talk to Neil about what steaks he liked as he ran one of his fingers down her own. Emily jerked her hand away furiously, bumping the table and making the water glasses tinkle. Neil looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "Are you okay, love? Do you need a moment in the ladies’ room?"

  For once in his life Neil had had a stroke of genius. "Yes! I do. I think I'll just run to the ladies’ room. I'll just drink ice water, if the waiter comes."

  Emily jumped up out of her chair, grabbed her clutch purse and bolted, heedless of the looks she was receiving. This was so bad, she thought to herself. What the hell was Jackson doing here?

  The ladies’ room was empty, as well as the little make-up room before it. Plopping onto a couch, Emily dug for her cell phone… all the way to the bottom of her purse, of course. She paged through her security screen and hit the green phone icon. Kendra's name was at the top of the list, because she'd just been talking to her. Her friend answered on the first ring, sounding out of breath. "What'd the asshole do now?" she asked.

  Emily laughed. "For once it wasn't Neil. At least not directly. Jackson is here. In Houston!"

  "What? Why is he there?"

  "Apparently, he's Neil's client, the one who's been looking at ranches this week."

  "No way," Kendra breathed, laughing. "Oh, that's devious. I think I like Jack
son. You've told me about him but this really ups his game. What did he say to you?"

  Emily thought back. "Nothing, yet. He just said hello when Neil introduced us."

  "Did you let Neil know you knew him?"

  "No."

  Kendra snorted on the other end of the line and Emily knew exactly what she was thinking. If she went out there now and said that she knew Jackson then they would look guilty as hell for not saying so sooner. Why hadn't she let Neil know that Jackson was from her hometown? She didn't have to let him know that she'd screwed him six ways to Sunday, and still dreamt about doing it again on a regular basis.

  "What is Jackson telling him right now?" she wondered out loud. "Damn it, I never should have left."

  Kendra laughed at her again. "You know, I love seeing this side of you. You're usually so collected. I'm sorry you're having issues but it only shows me you're human."

  Emily sighed into the phone. "Oh, I'm very human. And very, very fucked."

  "Only if you're lucky," Kendra said as Emily hung up.

  You better let me know what goes on tonight!

  Emily didn't respond to her friend’s text. Crossing into the bathroom proper she did her business and washed her hands, taking a moment to pat her cheeks with cool water. She would have to feel out the situation when she got back to the table. Her forefinger tingled where Jackson had stroked her and she clenched her hands into fists. No more touching beneath the table!

  Straightening her skirt, curiosity and dread fighting in her gut, she returned to the table.

  Both men stood and Emily allowed Neil to help her with her chair, but she avoided their gazes. "Sorry, gentlemen."

  "I ordered for you," Neil told her. "Wasn't sure when you were coming out of the bathroom so I just picked something."