Harlequin American Romance October 2013 Bundle: Twins Under the Christmas TreeBig Sky ChristmasHer Wyoming HeroA Rancher's Christmas

by Marin Thomas

  “Why didn’t it happen?” Winnie asked, but then realized she knew the answer. “Olive blocked it.”

  Jackson nodded slowly.

  “Why would she be so nasty?”

  “You can’t blame her. She was protecting the things she loves the most. Her land. And her children.”

  He was right. That was what Olive cared about.

  But not Jackson. He had only been a kid, looking for a place to belong.

  And maybe nothing had changed. Maybe he was still searching for those things, even though he was now an adult. She thought about how often Jackson hung back on the perimeter of things like family gatherings, and even at the ceremony for the new historical site.

  Not once could she remember him taking center stage at anything. Even a conversation.

  “And now for the real reason I dragged you out here.” Jackson moved closer, pulling her into his arms.

  “So you could kiss me?” she teased.

  “Oh, yeah.” And then he did just that, but the kiss they shared this time was different. Not so much about passion and exploration, but sweeter.

  Slower.

  Tender and caring.

  His lips lingered on hers for a long, long time. Then he swept a kiss over her cheek, her forehead, the tip of her nose.

  “I could get addicted to this,” he whispered in her ear.

  She already was.

  * * *

  THEY DIDN’T DARE linger in the barn for long, and once they were back inside the house, Maddie told Jackson she needed a few minutes with Winnie. “For some girl talk.”

  He couldn’t get out of the room fast enough when he heard that.

  Winnie perched on a footstool next to Maddie’s chair. She could see her son from here, too. Bobby looked so peaceful when he slept. So innocent and pure.

  “Jackson is a catch, dear. But he won’t be easy to hold.” Maddie’s tone was frank, but kind. “I don’t want you to be hurt. You’ve had enough of that for one lifetime.”

  The older woman took her right hand and touched the ring that Winnie still wore. “For a relationship to work, you have to give everything. But Jackson is a man who is used to holding back.”

  Winnie nodded, understanding that she was right, and feeling a cold frisson of fear working under her skin.

  “We have a strong connection,” she said.

  “I can see that. And it’s a good start.” Maddie didn’t say anything more. But Winnie knew what she was thinking. It wouldn’t be enough.

  But Maddie’s advice was coming too late. She couldn’t pull back now.

  And maybe Maddie would be wrong. Jackson might be ready to change. For the right woman.

  Bobby let out a whimper then. Maybe he’d had a dream. Or felt a draft. At any rate, it seemed a sign that they should be going.

  “Thanks for a lovely evening, Maddie. I hope we’ll see you again soon.” She checked Bobby’s diaper and decided it was dry enough to make it home.

  “I hope so, too. Good night, dear.”

  In the kitchen, Jackson held Bobby so she could put on her own coat and boots.

  “We should talk to Olive,” she said quietly. “See if she would come and visit Maddie before it’s too late.”

  “B.J. already talked to her about it. She said no.”

  Winnie raised her eyebrows.

  “You want me to try again?”

  “Don’t you think it’s the right thing? If it would give Maddie some peace?”

  Jackson cupped her face with his hands. “You are seriously complicating my life, Winnie Hays.”

  Didn’t she know it.

  And it worked both ways.

  * * *

  THE FARMHOUSE WAS always quiet after Maddie went to bed for the night. Jackson didn’t like to turn on the TV in case the sound bothered her. Normally he read.

  But tonight he was restless. He’d already cleaned the kitchen to a state of spotlessness that might well be a new record for him.

  He’d asked Winnie to text him when she arrived home so he’d know she’d made the trip safely. She had. Two hours ago. And still he kept looking at his phone, hoping she’d send him another message.

  So this was what it was like to be crazy about a woman. He’d always wondered.

  For some reason, it had never happened to him before. Oh, he liked women just fine, but he tended to look for them in bars and at rodeos and to hook up for fun, never seriously. At the end of the evening, he sure didn’t wonder what she was doing. Or thinking. And when he would see her again.

  But tonight he was wondering all three of those things about Winnie.

  He paced the length of the house, from the kitchen through the dining room to the sitting area, over and over. He wished he could go outside for a walk, but he was worried Maddie might call him for more pills or have a coughing jag and need him. At her last appointment, she’d found out the cancer had spread from her lungs to her bones.

  She’d turned down the offer of more treatment to minimize her discomfort.

  “All I want now is to die at home on my ranch,” she’d said. And as long as her pain remained manageable, she would get her wish. How long she had, no one knew.

  Could be weeks. Could be months, according to the oncologist.

  Jackson didn’t like thinking about when those final days would happen or what they’d be like. And he sure as hell didn’t want to imagine the farmhouse without Maddie.

  He still had no idea why she was insisting on leaving this ranch to him. When she’d first presented her offer, she’d told him there were reasons. And he’d find out in time.

  But how much time would it take?

  And could he ever feel comfortable accepting such an incredibly generous gift?

  Turning the ranch around, investing his own savings, being here for her during her last days—none of that seemed like enough payment to him. Certainly not the being here part—that he would have given free.

  No one should die alone, the way his mother had.

  The sound of coyotes yipping in the distance took him to the window. The dogs sleeping in Maddie’s room didn’t raise a fuss, fortunately. But he turned off the lights in the house, trying to see if he could spot them.

  He couldn’t.

  But their howling raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

  His mother had died alone, but Maddie wouldn’t. He’d be here. But he wasn’t the person she really wanted.

  Maddie wanted to make peace with her sister. That wasn’t likely to happen. But Winnie thought he should give it another shot.

  Deep in his gut, Jackson recognized it was the right thing to do. But he didn’t like his chances of succeeding.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jackson is a man who is used to holding back. Maddie’s words played through Winnie’s head all that night and led to a very restless sleep. She appreciated that the older woman was trying to protect her.

  But Maddie had never been married. So she wasn’t exactly an expert.

  The text message Winnie received from Jackson when she woke the next morning was reassuring.

  Good morning, beautiful.

  Just the fact that he was thinking about her made her feel warm and happy. Then later he sent another message. Taking your advice and talking to Olive today. Wish me luck.

  Fingers crossed, she responded. Toes, too.

  * * *

  JACKSON SMILED AS he read the text message from Winnie. He’d just finished his chores and was now cooking hot cereal for Maddie’s breakfast. She liked it with warm milk and applesauce.

  He was spooning the cereal into a bowl when another message arrived.

  You’re a good guy. Thank you.

  He wasn’t so sure that he was, but h
e was glad his decision had pleased her.

  He carried a tray with the cereal and a weak cup of tea into Maddie’s bedroom. The dogs had come out with him earlier when he’d gone to the barn, and now they were sleeping again. Ginger the cat was here, too, curled up at the foot of Maddie’s bed.

  “A woman could get used to this service.” Maddie pushed herself to a sitting position so he could set the tray on her lap.

  Next he opened her curtains. Thank God there was a lot of sunshine in Montana. The long winter months would be depressing without it.

  “How’d you sleep?”

  “Fine.”

  She always said the same thing, though he suspected it wasn’t true. The wadded tissues strewn around her nightstand spoke of a restless night and more of the infernal coughing. He’d told her to call him—just press the intercom button on the phone by her bed—and he’d be here. But she’d have to be at death’s door before she disturbed him. It was the stoic rancher in her.

  “I’ve decided to talk to Olive today,” he announced. “I’m going to invite her over for tea.”

  Maddie reached out and touched his arm. “Thank you.”

  The gratitude in her eyes made his own grow suddenly moist. “Got any tips on how I should approach her?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  * * *

  JACKSON WAS VERY familiar with Olive’s schedule. She did little hands-on work at the ranch anymore—except when it came time to move the cattle in the spring and the fall. Those were trips she seldom missed.

  For the most part, though, Olive focused on management and administration. She began every morning by touring the barns and speaking to Corb—who was the foreman of the cattle operation—and B.J.—who oversaw the quarter-horse breeding business.

  Afterward she returned to the house for a hearty breakfast, and then the rest of the day she divided between business calls and trolling the web for any good horse sales.

  Jackson timed his visit for shortly after breakfast, and it was five minutes past ten when he knocked at the front door. Bonny Platter, the housekeeper and cook, answered.

  “What are you doing knocking?” she scolded him. “Come on in.”

  “I don’t live or work here anymore,” he reminded her.

  “So? You’re still part of the family.”

  Was he? Jackson seriously doubted if that would be Olive’s view. “Is Olive around?”

  “In the kitchen,” Olive’s voice carried from the other room.

  Bonny shrugged, then gestured for him to follow.

  Olive was dressed in wool trousers and an expensive-looking sweater. Her hair was nicely styled and she was wearing makeup and her pearls. He guessed she had a meeting in town later that day.

  For now she was settled on a stool at the large granite-covered island. She had her laptop open in front of her and was making notes. Or she had been. She set down her pen.

  “Jackson.” She gave him a slight nod. “This is unexpected.”

  He’d considered phoning first, but had decided the element of surprise might work in his favor. At least this way she couldn’t avoid him.

  With his hat in his hands, he took a stance. “I’m here to pass along a request.”

  “Bonny,” Olive said, not taking her gaze off him. “Maybe you could clean the bathrooms this morning.”

  Taking the hint, Bonny left the room.

  “So. What is your request?”

  Olive spoke with a frosty tone that Jackson was very familiar with. In the past that voice had made him quake with fear. But he wasn’t a kid any longer.

  “The request is from Maddie. Your sister.”

  Olive blinked once, then twice. “I know who Maddie is, thank you.”

  “And you also know she’s sick?”

  “Dying of cancer, you mean?”

  Taken aback by her callous tone, he nodded. “She’d like to see you. So I’m here to invite you to tea. Any day that’s good for you.”

  “Really? Any day that’s good for me?” She let out a laugh of disbelief. “Let me tell you something, Jackson. When it comes to Maddie Turner, no day is good for me. You’ve been part of this family long enough that you should know this.”

  “I was hoping you would reconsider. Given that the situation has changed.”

  “And what change are you referring to? The fact that you work for Maddie now, that you’re actually going to inherit my family land from her? Or is it the new situation between you and Winnie, the woman who was once about to marry my son? There are so many changes with you these days, Jackson, I can’t keep them all straight.”

  Oh, but she was angry. He could feel the snap and pop in her eyes as she glared at him.

  Maybe Maddie would have been smarter to send her request via Corb.

  But she’d asked him to do it. So had Winnie. And now he was here. He’d just have to state his case and hope for the best.

  “I’m sure you have your reasons for not wanting to go. But Maddie does have something that she’d like to pass on to you. In person.”

  Olive’s eyes widened. She thought for a minute, then asked quietly, “What is it?”

  He hesitated, then said, exactly as Maddie had asked him to, “Something of your mother’s.”

  * * *

  “SO YOU WERE out at Maddie Turner’s place last night?” Vince asked. He was about to punch down the dough for his second batch of cinnamon buns.

  Winnie made fists with her hands. She yearned to sink them into the soft cloud of yeasty-smelling dough.

  But when he’d first come to work at the Cinnamon Stick, Vince had made it clear. No one messed around in his kitchen except him.

  So she resisted.

  And considered his question. “Bobby and I were invited for dinner. We’re going tonight, too. Would you like to join us?”

  She and Jackson had been exchanging text messages all day. The last one had been another invite to dinner.

  She’d said yes.

  Of course she’d said yes.

  She could hardly wait to see him again. And she knew Bobby would be happy to go back to the ranch and see the “bows.” She still hadn’t convinced him to call them dogs.

  “That wouldn’t be a good idea.”

  “Why? You could deliver a batch of your baking in person for a change.”

  He just shook his head as he continued to knead the soft dough.

  “I don’t understand. You said Maddie had been a good friend to you.”

  “True. Best way I can repay that is by keeping my distance.”

  “Are you sure? She’s asked to see Olive. Maybe she’d like to see you, as well.”

  “Did she really?” He gave a vicious twist to the dough. “Olive will turn her down.”

  “According to the text message Jackson sent me an hour ago, Olive has agreed to go to tea at Silver Creek Ranch next week.”

  “You don’t say.” Vince shook his head. “I knew it was a cold start to winter this year. But I never guessed hell had frozen over.”

  * * *

  THE MORNING WENT by slowly after Winnie’s conversation with Vince. There were no more text messages from Jackson. He must have gotten busy.

  But that didn’t stop her from hoping he’d drop by the café to say hello.

  Did he think of her as much as she thought of him?

  It was hard to tell.

  At one-thirty in the afternoon, Cassidy came in for a large takeout coffee.

  The pretty blonde was wearing a tawny-colored suede jacket that emphasized her green eyes, as well as the remnants of the tan from her honeymoon in Maui.

  “Straws wants me to drive out to the Parnell ranch, about an hour east from here. They’re having trouble loading one of their horses i
n their trailer.” Cassidy chatted as she waited for Winnie to ring in her coffee. “They think their horse was traumatized in some way and want me to work with him.”

  “So Straws has you making house calls now? Or should I say, horse calls?”

  Cassidy laughed. She looked happy and contented. Taking a job at the Monahan Equestrian Center had been good for her, Winnie reflected. Even though it meant not utilizing the accounting degree she’d worked so hard for.

  Her marriage to Dan Farley wasn’t hurting, either. The strong, manly vet provided good counterbalance for Cassidy’s soft heart and spirited nature.

  Winnie passed over the takeout mug that Cassidy had carried in with her. “Have a safe drive, Cass.”

  “I will.” She started for the door, then stopped. Lowering her voice, so the customers sitting at the back couldn’t hear, she said, “Just so you know, I’m rooting for you and Jackson. So are Corb and B.J. We know Mom is bound to give you a hard time. But just remember, not all the Lamberts think the way she does.”

  “I appreciate you saying that.”

  “Not that it isn’t going to take some getting used to. I mean—Brock and Jackson. They’re so different.”

  She knew what Cassidy meant.

  Brock had been an open book. He loved to talk and could be counted on to speak his mind. He was also very charming and often said the sweetest things.

  Jackson was none of those things. He was reserved and quiet: a man of action, not words. Of course, with Jackson, the compliments might be rare, but he delivered them with such single-minded intensity that they felt genuine and sincere.

  Stop it.

  She shouldn’t compare the two men. It wouldn’t be fair to the memory she wanted to preserve of Brock. Or the future she hoped to build with Jackson.

  “Look at that.” Cassidy pointed to the window, where a truck that was unmistakably Jackson’s was slowly cruising by. “Speak of the devil.”

  Winnie smiled. She’d just been wishing he would come by. And here he was.

  But minutes passed without Jackson coming into the café. Cassidy left and a new customer came in. Once she’d taken care of them, Winnie moved to the window, where she glanced down Main Street. She could see Jackson’s truck parked outside Molly’s Market.