by Jo Barrett
Heat slipped up her spine at the thought of her new friend. The man was gorgeous, kind, and had a devilish twinkle in his eye that pulled at her, tempting her beyond friendship, a place she should not go. She didn’t have the time or the energy to deal with a romantic relationship right now. She was just getting started on fixing her messed up life. She was nowhere near ready for anything more than friendship.
And he was her friend. Their afternoon together had been wonderful. Talking, laughing, crying. Even a little arguing. And the feel of his arms around her…
She shook her head to dispel the tantalizing images. “I have lost my mind entirely. The man is a lot of things, but interested in me as something other than a friend isn’t one of them.”
Although he did have a warm look in his eye at the end before he left.
She shook her head again and jabbed the needle through the fabric. “No, not possible.”
She knew her face at the moment was a mess, all puffy and red from crying. No man could think about a girl in a sexual way when she looked like that.
But late into the night, deep in her dreams, Jackson was so much more than a friend.
****
The following morning, with butterflies in her belly, Clare watched Jackson pull up in front of the house.
“I really have lost my flippin’ mind,” she mumbled.
She walked out onto the porch to greet him. “You’re pretty early today. Didn’t you have work to do on your own ranch?” she asked.
He smiled with that twinkle in his eye, and she knew that there was no way she was going to exterminate those damn butterflies. She would just have to do her best to keep her dangerous thoughts to herself and not let them show. Jackson may have said he was over Brittany, but she seriously doubted that.
He stepped up onto the porch with a bag in his hand. “I pretty much told Kyle and Billie Jo that I would be unavailable for a spell.”
“And what did they say to that?”
“Here,” he said, holding out the bag to her.
She took it, but made sure that her fingers didn’t touch his. “What’s this?”
“Homemade donuts. Billie Jo has a real knack with them. But with her pregnancy and the crazy cravings, she tends to make too many. She doesn’t know it, but Kyle sneaks them out to the birds half the time so she won’t eat too many. But this batch was made especially for you.”
“For me? I mean, did you tell them about me?”
He chuckled. “They already knew. Like I said, I just wasn’t listening.”
She smiled. “Well, thank her for me when you get home.” She turned to take them inside.
“You could thank her yourself in person.”
Clare paused, waiting for the dread of going out, of leaving her safe haven to come over her, but there was barely an inkling of it. She realized then, that Jackson had brought her out of her grief over the loss of Granny.
Yes, she was hiding from the world, from people like her ex, but she’d also buried a part of her with Granny.
“I mean, it would be just dinner with the family. Nothing special,” Jackson said. “If you want to, that is.”
She turned and looked up at him. His nervousness and genuine sincerity brought a smile to her face. It was time to make more friends, to live her life, and stop dwelling on the past and so many regrets.
“I think I’d like that very much,” she said.
His grin spread into a wide, bright smile. “Great! I’ll give Billie Jo a call and let her know. I’ll come pick you up around six, after I run home and get cleaned up this afternoon.”
“You don’t have to do that. I can drive over. Granny’s old car still runs.”
“No way. I’ve seen that car, and I don’t know how it could make it down the drive, much less over to my place.”
“Well, if you’re sure it’s no trouble…”
“No trouble at all,” he said with a wink. “Now I’ve got some work to do before the day gets away from me.” He trotted down the steps, whistling. “And don’t eat all those donuts. Save a couple for me,” he called out over his shoulder.
“I’ll save them for dessert after lunch,” she called back.
He waved, without looking back, and kept walking toward the barn. Which was a good thing too, because if he could see the look of wonder that was surely on her face, he’d know how she was beginning to feel about him.
****
Sometime around mid-morning, Morgan showed up with a few hands and started shouting at the house. Jackson came out of the barn to put a stop to it.
Apparently Morgan didn’t know about Mrs. Hampton’s death any more than he had, and he wasn’t about to enlighten him. But he wasn’t going to stand there and let the jerk harass Clare either.
“Something you need here, Morgan?”
Morgan jerked around, obviously not expecting anyone else to be on the property. It didn’t take him long to put on his slimy smile.
“Trying to weasel your way into the old lady’s good graces, boy?”
Jackson moved to stand between Morgan and the house. Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, “I’m just here helping a friend.”
Morgan snorted at that, which pulled a few low chuckles from his boys.
“Friend? Since when did you and the old lady become friends?”
The front door to the house flew open with a crash. For half a second Jackson thought one of Morgan’s men had kicked in the door. But the sight before him made his heart stop.
With her bright golden hair catching every ray of sunshine, and her knit top and faded denim clinging to her sweet curves, she looked like an avenging angel with a rifle in her hands.
“Get the hell off my property!”
Morgan’s mouth fell open, as did the others. Jackson forced himself to look away before he did something like let his tongue hang out.
Morgan’s shock disappeared as quickly as it came, as he cast a sneer in Jackson’s direction. “I can see just how you’re helping a friend.” He looked to Clare. “You a relative, little gal?”
“I’m the owner, that’s all you need to know. Now get the hell off my land.”
“So the old lady finally died and left it to you, eh?”
Clare cocked her gun.
“Alright, I’m going,” Morgan said with a nod, and motioned for his men to get into the SUV.
Before he pulled away, he rolled down his window, and said, “You and your brother won’t win, boy. No matter how hard you try to romance this place out from under her, it’ll be mine when it’s said and done.”
The cloud of dust settled, and Jackson turned to look at Clare. The look she shot him would curdle milk.
“That’s why you’re doing all this, isn’t it?” she asked.
He almost cringed beneath her cold gaze, although there wasn’t any truth to what Morgan had said. “Absolutely not! I—my brother and I are not looking to buy this spread,” he said.
“Is that so? Then the offer Granny got from him last year was just fiction?”
“Ah Christ.” He tore off his hat and ran his hand through his hair and down his face. “I swear I didn’t know. He probably thought it was too much for her to care for anymore. I didn’t know about it, honest. I just—” He rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh. “I just sign whatever my brother puts in front of me. I swear I didn’t know about it. I didn’t have anything to do with the offer.”
By the look on her face, he knew she wasn’t convinced. “I wanted to help. That’s all, Clare. I swear.”
She turned and stomped back inside and slammed the door. He wasn’t sure if he should stay or go, so he just went back to the barn in the hopes she’d believe him after she cooled off a bit.
She’d made him laugh again. Made him want to talk about things, do things, be with people—be with her. He’d felt dead inside for so long. Clare had breathed new life into him.
She had to believe him. She just had to.
Way past time for lunch, Clare came
out to the barn. Jackson kept on working, afraid to face her, afraid she’d tell him to leave and never come back.
“You really didn’t know?” Clare asked.
He stopped, took a deep breath, and turned. “No, I didn’t.”
“And your brother...”
“He does the dealings, not me. But if he makes you an offer and you don’t want to sell, he won’t pester you about it. He probably will eventually, what with your grandmother gone, but I’m not here because of the land, Clare. I swear.”
She pursed her lush lips and crossed her arms.
He could tell she believed him but wasn’t quite ready to admit it, so he shot her wink and a smile, and said, “Actually, I’m here for your fabulous chicken salad.”
She was just so beautiful, especially when she smirked that way, he couldn’t help but tease her. He may have come to help a neighbor in the beginning, but the moment she looked up at him on the top of the barn, he was hooked.
She almost smiled as she gave him a playful shove. With a chuckle, he snagged her arm and pulled her against him, but the moment her delicious curves touched his, the laugh died in his throat and her almost smile disappeared completely.
He gazed into her bright blue eyes, and let her see into his. She had to know what he wanted, what he was feeling. The sizzle between them was real. It didn’t make a lick of sense, falling for her so fast, but he had.
“You know the real reason I’m here, the reason I keep coming back,” he said, his heart pounding, matching the frantic rhythm of hers.
She shook her head. “No. No, we can’t—I can’t do this.”
“I know it’s fast, but I can’t help it. I’m falling in love with you, and nothing on this planet can stop it.”
Her breath caught and she swayed. “I think I need to sit down.”
“Whoa there, sugar.” He eased her onto an old stool by the empty stall and knelt before her. “Better?”
She looked into his eyes. “You can’t possibly—”
“I can and I do.”
“But—you—we barely know each other.”
He rubbed her hands where they were clasped tightly together. “It’s okay, sweetheart. We don’t have to have this conversation right now. Why don’t you go back inside, catch your breath, and get yourself some lunch? I’ll run back to my place for a quick shower, and let Billie Jo and Kyle know we’re not having dinner with them tonight. Then I’ll come back, and we’ll talk about things. Okay?”
“O-okay.”
He brushed a quick kiss to her forehead, then helped her back to her feet and pointed her toward the house.
Once inside, still dazed, Clare stood and stared blankly at the kitchen wall. That was why she’d gone out to the barn in the first place. To see if he was coming in for lunch…sort of.
She needed to hear again that he wasn’t here for the land. That he really did just want to help out a friend, but she’d never expected, never dreamed that after a few days of knowing him he’d say anything about love.
She rubbed her aching head. Mark had sworn he loved her almost from the start too. Maybe—no. Jackson and Mark were as different as night and day. Jackson listened to her. Held her when she needed it, understood her and her past. He wasn’t Mark. But still, it was so fast.
“Oh, Granny. Am I just too stupid to tell the good ones from the bad?” How could a man she’d barely known for a few days say that he was falling in love with her?
She heard his truck start up and watched as it headed down the winding dirt drive.
Taking a long deep breath, she straightened her spine and lifted her chin. “He’ll come back, and we’ll talk. We’ll talk about slowing things down. Yes, that’s what we’ll talk about.” She crossed to the counter and snagged one of Billie Jo’s donuts.
Taking a huge bite, she was distracted for a moment from her thoughts by the wonderful explosion of sugar and chocolate in her mouth. Jackson was right, they were fabulous.
She moved back to the window and watched the dust settle in the drive. Licking the tips of her fingers, she glanced at the bag of donuts and grinned.
“I don’t need to eat all of those. I need to save some for Jackson. He’ll be back, we’ll talk, have some dinner, eat donuts, and then…well, we’ll see what happens.”
She wasn’t about to jump into bed with the man, but she was beginning to think she might actually be able to let a little romance into her life after all.
Chapter Six
Clare took a quick shower and put on some makeup. She was going to start this thing right. She wasn’t going to let him push her into anything, but she was willing to talk, to explore new possibilities that included Jackson in her life.
Just because he said he was falling in love with her, didn’t mean that he was ready to do anything crazy, like get married. She needed to do a little probing first. He had to prove to her that he was over Brittany and not rebounding with her, and she had to prove the same to him, and to herself about Mark.
They’d both had bad endings where romance was concerned. There wasn’t anything wrong with being cautious, but she wasn’t an idiot. She wasn’t about to let the possibility of real love slip away.
Hearing heavy boots on the front porch, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror.
“It’ll do for a sort of dinner date.”
With a small grin, she left the bathroom and took a step into the hall toward the front door. But before she could take another, the sound of pounding ricocheted through the house. That wasn’t Jackson, and they weren’t going to stop pounding on her front door until it gave way.
In a near state of panic, her heart leaping in her chest, her hands shaking like never before, she grabbed her rifle from where it stood beside her grandfather’s desk, not wanting them to use her own weapon against her, and ran for the bedroom in the back of the house. She slammed and locked the door, then put the gun on the bed, and struggled to shove the dresser in front of the door.
She stifled a scream at the sound of a loud crash from the living room. They’d made it inside. Her life might depend on how she handled the next few minutes, she couldn’t allow the panic rising in her throat to gain control of her actions.
The dresser finally in place, she grabbed the gun and moved to the far corner of the room behind the bed. As much as she’d like to let off a warning shot, thinking it might scare them away, somehow she had a feeling it wouldn’t work.
With her eyes on the bedroom door, now vibrating from the beating it was taking, she rifled through the nightstand for more ammunition. Bullets spilled out onto the floor beside her foot, and she crouched down beside them.
She wished she’d ran upstairs instead of staying on the main floor. They could try to come in through one of the windows instead of the door, but at least she realized that. They wouldn’t catch her off guard.
Several minutes of pounding, of things crashing in other parts of the house, strengthened her resolve. She was ready. If they got through, she’d shoot, no questions asked.
Then abruptly as it had started, the crashing and banging stopped, followed by hurried footsteps. She wasn’t convinced they were gone and kept her place behind the bed, her gaze moving from the door to the windows, her ears struggling for the slightest sound.
“Clare!”
Tears sprang to her eyes at the sound of Jackson’s voice. “I’m here!”
She dropped the gun to the bed then struggled to move the dresser. She managed to shift it enough to allow the door to open a crack and saw his wonderful face twisted with worry.
He shoved at the door, forcing the dresser to move with a horrendous squeal across the wood floor, then reached out and pulled her into his arms.
“God, Clare. I thought—” He buried his face in the side of her neck and held her so tightly she could barely breathe.
Tears ran down her face as she held onto him with all her might. “I’m okay.”
He lifted his head and cupped her face in his hands. “Are
you sure?”
She nodded and tried to blink away her tears.
He hugged her once again, then guided her across the room and eased her down to the edge of the bed. Kneeling before her, he took her hands into his. She knew he could feel her trembling.
“Take a deep breath and tell me what happened,” he said.
She let the air slip from her lips as slow and steady as she could, attempting to calm her racing heart.
“I had started down the hall at the sound of boots on the porch, thinking it was you,” she said. “I stopped when they started pounding on the door.”
“Did they say anything? Did you get a look at them?”
“No, they just kept banging on the door. I realized they were trying to break it down. So I grabbed the rifle and ran to the back of the house.”
He rested his forehead against their clasped hands.
“Did you see anyone?” she asked.
“No.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. “I saw a cloud of dust across the back field but couldn’t make out the vehicle. It was over the ridge. Then I saw the door and damn near had a heart attack.”
He moved the dresser back into its rightful place.
“They trashed the place pretty good,” he said, taking her hand.
Together they walked down the hall to the living room. Clare sucked in a breath at the sight of the mess.
Jackson pulled her tighter against his side and gave her a gentle squeeze. “We’ll get it cleaned up, and I’ll fix whatever I can. You should probably check to see if anything was stolen.”
Her gaze slid to the floor beside the overturned couch where her quilting hoop sat in pieces. The friendship star torn and trampled. At least it was only one of the blocks for the quilt. The rest, she hoped, were still safe in the upstairs room she and Granny had turned into a sewing room.
“We need to call the sheriff,” he said, pulling her from the ache in her heart over her destroyed work.
She nodded and moved to see what else was damaged beyond repair, while he called the sheriff. Her grandparents hadn’t owned anything of any real value to anyone, just some old furniture and some sentimental things.
