by Jo Ann Brown
She would have had to hire someone to do the work, anyway. How awesome was it that her money would be doing double duty? She’d get the help she needed—for a little while, anyway—and the town would get its senior center built.
Win, win.
Though poor Jax sure didn’t seem to think he’d won anything.
He definitely hadn’t looked as if he’d wanted to be standing on a platform hawking himself, but she was sure he hadn’t been able to say no to gregarious, winsome Jo any more than Faith had. It was Jo who had convinced her it would be worthwhile to attend the auction today, to bid for one of the local men to help her clean up her run-down property. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but in hindsight, she now decided she must have been clean out of her mind to have bid on a perfect stranger—one who had looked large and intimidating even from a distance.
Jax exited the stage, taking the stairs one slow step at a time, his gaze narrowed onto her and he frowned. The reluctance with which he moved to her side was palpable.
Now, as he approached her, intimidated didn’t even begin to cover what she was feeling. At five feet ten inches in her bare feet—and three inches taller than that at the moment, thanks to her heels—Faith wasn’t in any way diminutive. She was taller than most women and many men, but Jax towered over her.
Faith found it hard to believe that Jo had had the audacity to call him out by his given and middle names together, reminding her of the way a mother would scold an errant youngster climbing a tree. And right in front of the whole town, to boot. Jo and Jax must have a special relationship, because Faith had been shocked down to her shoes when Jax had turned around and returned to the platform just as Jo had asked.
Yet he was no wayward child. Far from it. If she had to guess, she’d put him a few years older than her own twenty-seven years. Thirty-ish. She judged him to be over two hundred pounds of raw muscle and a good six feet four inches tall, cartoonishly huge next to Jo’s five-feet-nothing. He dwarfed the friendly redhead.
Unlike the guy who’d come before him, he hadn’t even needed to flex for her—er—for the crowd to appreciate the strength of his broad shoulders and powerful biceps. Now in closer proximity, she inhaled the smell of him—all leather and raw man. Just the way he looked. The crazy thing was, that heady scent wasn’t unpleasant. Quite the opposite, in fact.
If it weren’t for the scar on his face, she’d have thought he’d walked right out of an advertisement for aftershave or something else meant to be rugged and manly. Though honestly, the ragged, puckered scar that slashed across the man’s temple didn’t bother her as much as the fact that he appeared to be glowering. Not at her, thankfully, but at a couple of sturdy cowboys standing together near the other side of the stage. The guy who’d been bid on first was there, his arm curved familiarly around his wife’s waist. The other fellow, a big bear of a man whom Faith immediately dubbed Grizzly Adams, was grinning as if he’d triumphed in a race.
Jax’s brothers, were Faith to guess. The family resemblance was striking in their similar strong features—the dark wavy hair and chiseled jaws.
Alexis gave Faith’s shoulder an encouraging pat and turned back to the auction, where the next bachelor had broken into an impromptu round of “Home on the Range,” presumably to impress the ladies with his vocal capabilities. Faith thought perhaps the guy should have chosen another talent to display. Singing in tune didn’t appear to be part of his skill set. To Faith’s ears, he sounded a bit like a crowing rooster, but she supposed it was the thought that counted. For some inexplicable reason the crowd was encouraging the poor bachelor, which only made him bellow all the louder.
She turned her attention to Jax. He was watching the guy on stage, but he didn’t appear to care one way or another about the assault on his ears. She observed him quietly, hoping to discern what he might be thinking by the look on his face. She could read nothing in his expression. It wasn’t empty so much as—hard. Frozen solid, like the frost in his eyes. His body language was equally as closed off, with his arms crossed over the bulk of his chest.
“So,” she said, not at all certain how to start a conversation with him. “I brought a picnic basket full of goodies so we can share lunch together.” She knew she was rambling but didn’t seem to know how to stop. “I thought Jo’s idea was a clever twist to the event, allowing everyone to participate in one way or another. Men, women, singles and married alike. Don’t you think?”
He didn’t respond, not even to acknowledge that she’d spoken to him. He hadn’t even bothered to turn his head in her direction.
“Jax?” She touched his elbow to get his attention.
He turned, his piercing, chocolate-brown eyes shifting to hers and widening in surprise, as if he’d forgotten she was there.
Maybe he had.
“I—er—” she stammered. “Did you want to stay and watch the rest of the auction?”
Jax snorted. “Thank you, no. I am so done with this stupid event.”
Faith smiled. “I thought you might be. I certainly wouldn’t want to have to put myself up for display on the auction block, but I appreciate your sacrifice for the sake of the senior center building fund.”
“Oh, believe me, I felt like a sacrifice. The lamb-to-the-slaughter kind.” Jax grinned, his smile made slightly crooked by the tension created by his scar, which pulled the left side of his mouth higher than the right. It would have looked a bit like a grimace, except that his eyes were gleaming with amusement. “Thanks for rescuing me.”
“My pleasure.” Her cheeks warmed. She couldn’t imagine why his words would make her blush. She swallowed and quickly recovered her composure. She pointed down the lawn. “I set my picnic basket under that oak tree over there. Are you hungry?”
A laugh that sounded a little bit like a growl emerged from deep in his chest. “I’m always hungry.”
Well, duh. She should have guessed that. Put fur on the guy and he could probably pass for Bigfoot. Of course he was hungry.
“I hope I packed enough.”
His right brow arched and the strained half grin returned.
She was already blushing, but now heat rushed to her face and spread to her cheeks like a wildfire. Had she just said those words out loud?
Open mouth, insert foot. Way to go, Faith. Insult the man ten seconds after meeting him.
She quickly tried to recover, feeling as if she were scrambling backward as she stammered her way through her sentence. “Oh, n-no. That’s not what I intended to say. My words didn’t come out right at all. I—I only meant—”
He held up one large work-calloused hand to stem the flow of her sputtering words. “It’s okay, ma’am. Whatever you’ve brought will be just fine, I’m sure. I’m not a difficult man to please.”
“Please call me Faith,” she urged, brushing her suddenly sweaty palms against the denim of her designer skinny jeans.
Acquiring new, more practical boot-cut jeans was on her priority list of things to do now that she was finally here in Serendipity. And as much as she loved her Jimmy Choos, her good pair of cowboy boots would have been much more sensible for the occasion. She was practically aerating the park grass with her three-inch spikes.
“Faith,” he repeated, his rich, lyrical voice making her name sound like a musical note. “I’m Jax McKenna, and apparently I am at your service.”
“It’s nice to officially meet you, Jax.” She held out her hand and he dwarfed it in his own. Again she had the impression of hard work and calluses, a complete contrast to her own lotion-softened, office-cubicle working hands.
That will change. Soon.
She’d spent the last few years working in accounting for a non-profit organization to save up the money for her horse sanctuary. Mere months from now she hoped and prayed that her palms would likewise carry the blisters of hard country labor. She could bar
ely wait for that day, anticipating it like a child would Christmas morning. She was a city girl with a country heart.
“Here we are,” she said, gesturing to a rather plain-looking brown wicker basket lingering next to the trunk of an oak, shaded from the glare of the sun by the old tree’s branches. As she looked around at the other baskets dotting the lawn, she couldn’t help but feel a little bit embarrassed. Her own meager offering looked so bare and ordinary next to the others. Many of the women had decorated their baskets with colorful plumes and ribbons. She wished she’d thought of that—especially because the man she’d be sharing a meal with looked as if he could use a few kindhearted gestures. But on the other hand, he didn’t seem like the sort of man who’d really be comfortable with something dolled up and fancy. Maybe plain was best, after all.
Without speaking, Jax crouched over the basket, withdrawing a blue-checked plastic tablecloth that had been the best Faith could do under the circumstances. She’d arrived in Serendipity only two days ago and hadn’t learned of the auction until the day prior.
How she’d come to bet on this particular tall, sturdy cowboy was a mystery even to her. It was nothing more than a gut feeling, but she’d learned over the years to follow those silent promptings.
Thankfully, the man with the rooster voice had stopped singing, but the crowd was still hooting and hollering in the background. Jax didn’t seem to notice, nor, apparently, did he want to wait for the rest of the town to finish with the auction before he and Faith started on their picnic.
He spread the tablecloth across the grass and gestured for her to sit. Then he pulled out plates and silverware and popped the top of a cola can before offering it to her.
“Thanks,” she said, dropping onto the far corner of the plastic and folding her legs under her. “Although I feel like I ought to be doing the serving,” she said as he inspected the club sandwiches she’d made for the occasion. At least she’d used foot-long sub buns and loaded the sandwiches with meat, cheese and veggies. Dagwood would be proud of her creation.
Jax glanced up at her, and the unscarred side of his lips curled upward. Close to a smile, at any rate. Faith would take it.
“You paid for my time,” he reminded her. “I figured now is as good a time as any to start working off my—” He paused and bent his head as he considered how best to finish the sentence.
“Community service?” she suggested, chuckling at the double meaning.
“Yeah. That.” He wasn’t laughing.
“I—uh—okay, right,” she stammered. She didn’t usually stutter like a schoolgirl with her first crush. If she didn’t get a hold of her tongue soon, he would think he was working for an idiot.
His gaze had returned to the basket, giving Faith a modicum of reprieve. She took a deep, calming breath. There was no reason spending time with this man should visibly shake her, and the sooner she got comfortable around him, the better. After all, if he was as good with horses as Jo claimed, she hoped she might be able to convince him to stretch out his community service and continue working with her until her project was—if not finished, then a great deal closer than it was right now.
Then again, maybe he was expecting nothing more than to provide one day’s labor. No one had really set the guidelines for what happened after the auction, or at least nothing that Faith had heard.
“There are canisters of potato salad and barbecue baked beans, as well,” she added, relieved when her voice came out sounding normal. “I’m not much of a cook, but I made them myself. The beans are an old family recipe. Back home we called them Cowboy Beans.” The thought struck her as funny and she chuckled.
“Well, that’s fittin’.” He pulled out the plastic container of beans and scooped a heaping portion onto each of their plates. “Where’s home?”
He sounded genuinely interested, putting her more at ease. She leaned back on her hands. “I was born out east. Connecticut. I attended college in Wyoming. That’s where I got interested in horses.” It was also where she’d met...
She cut the thought off firmly, refusing to let her mind wander in that direction again. It still hurt to think about Keith and his son. She coughed, realizing Jax was speaking and she’d missed what he’d just said. “I’m sorry. My mind wandered for a second there. What did you say?”
His dark eyebrows lowered over stormy brown eyes. He assessed her, the working side of his lip curving into a frown. “Nothing important. Just that there’s good horse country out in Wyoming. Potato salad?”
“Yes, please.” She was relieved that he didn’t push her on what had caused her distraction. She wasn’t ready to talk about Keith, or about his precious son.
They ate in silence for a while, each lost in thought. As the auction continued, more people moved to the green, milling around them, talking and laughing. Some even stopped to introduce themselves. Faith should have been happy to be so welcomed by her new community, but her empty chest echoed with the sounds.
Before she knew it, Jax had cleaned his plate—not once, but twice, leaving her glad she’d thought to pack extra. Jo Spencer had advised her on the eating habits of the Texas male, and Jax was no slouch in that department.
“If you don’t mind me asking—why?” Jax’s voice had a hard edge to it, and he didn’t quite meet her gaze.
“Why?” she repeated, bracing herself. She wasn’t ready for him to elaborate on his question, to have to explain why a city woman wanted to open up a mustang sanctuary in the country, but sometimes there was no way out but through.
“Yeah. Why?” He lifted his tan cowboy hat and brushed his forearm across his brow. “Why did you bid on me?”
Her heart skipped a beat. Why had she bid on him?
“You mean why did I bid in the auction in general, or why bid for you, specifically?”
He shrugged. “Both, I guess.”
The truth was, he’d looked miserable up on the auction block, especially when there was hesitation from the crowd on bidding for him. She couldn’t imagine why that was. Despite his scar, he was quite handsome, if a woman liked her men strong and rugged. Faith would have expected the town’s single ladies to be shouting over each other in order to get a chance to spend time with this guy.
And yet there had been silence. The drop-of-a-pin kind.
Maybe it was too early in the game. Jax was only the second man to be auctioned, and the first bachelor. Perhaps the ladies were waiting to see who else was offering their services. Or maybe there was something about Jax that Faith didn’t yet know about, such as that he was conceited or had a bad temper.
She hoped not, but she was about to find out— because Jax was frowning again.
“Look—I don’t want your pity,” he said, his voice husky.
“What? No.”
“Are you seriously going to sit there and tell me you didn’t feel sorry for this scarred old monster? Because I won’t believe you.”
“I was standing at the back of the crowd. I couldn’t even see your scar.”
He shook his head. “That’s even worse.”
Now she was the one feeling insulted. “Why? You think I’m so shallow that I would want to bow out of our agreement just because of a gash on your face?”
He scoffed. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
She heard the bitterness behind his words. Someone in his past had injured him deeply. The wound in his heart was deeper than the one on his face.
“Well, that’s not me. I came here today looking for someone to help me with my ranch. I bought the Dennys’ old place, and it will take a lot of labor to get it in working order. If you’re going to pitch in, then I couldn’t care less what you look like. Wear a paper bag over your face, if you like. It won’t matter to me. I’ll take all the help I can get.”
His jaw lost its tightness at the welcome change of subject. He whis
tled softly.
“That place is pretty run-down. What do you plan to do with it?”
“I’m going to save wild mustangs.” Her voice rose in pitch as enthusiasm for her life’s dream engulfed her.
His gaze turned skeptical and his lips quirked. “Are you serious?”
Of course she was serious. Ever since she’d heard of the plight of wild mustangs as a child, she’d had it in her heart to take action, to make a difference. That’s why she’d left the East Coast and picked a college in Wyoming. For a while, life had gotten in the way and she’d set aside her dreams. But after what happened with Keith—she refused to dwell on that part of her life—she’d started making legitimate plans to fulfill her goals, and now here she was, in Serendipity, a brand-new owner of a ranch, however derelict it was.
Baby steps.
“You doubt me?”
He leaned his back against the solid trunk of the oak and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles, and giving her a once-over that sent chills down her spine.
His gaze lingered on her shoes.
“Forgive me if I’m a little bit skeptical. You’re clearly a city girl. What do you know about ranching?”
The only reason she didn’t punch him in the arm for his sarcasm—apart from not really knowing the man and how he’d react to that kind of attack—was that his words were lined with amusement. Hopefully not at her expense.
“All right. I’ll admit I was born and raised in a metropolitan area and have never lived on a ranch. However, I have spent several years volunteering at a wild-horse sanctuary. I realize I’m on a learning curve here, but I have read a lot and my bachelor’s degree is in business management with a minor in conservation and environmental science. I’ve done a lot of studying on the subject. Wyoming isn’t tolerant of wild horses.”
He snorted. “You’ve read about it? Like in a library? And you think a little piece of paper somehow makes you qualified to manage a horse farm? With wild mustangs, no less. Exactly how many wranglers do you intend to hire?”
