by Box Set
"Don't you mean your secretary arranged it?" she shot back. "Life is so simple when you have minions to take care of the details."
He knew she was referring to his sister out on the road for the company, but ignored the jab. "My secretary knows nothing about this, Hailey. I told Clara you'd be visiting your family for a couple of days. I have friends in Montana, so I called in a favor to get the car. No minions involved."
Her gaze dropped to the ground and she muttered, "I so badly want a reason to stay mad at you."
"I've given you plenty, sweetheart, so you hold on tight to those." He moved closer and used one finger to tip up her chin. "You can be as angry as you want, but I'm sticking by your side. You might eventually want to hold on to something besides your anger. I'm hoping, by the grace of God and all that is holy, you'll pick me for the job."
"I wish I didn't want to," she whispered.
"I get that," he told her, then dropped a kiss on the top of her head, "even though I'm working my ass off to be damned irresistible."
She giggled, and it sounded like a symphony to his ears. Then she wrapped her arms around his waist and allowed him to pull her in tight. "I'm not going to make this easy on you," she said against his shirt.
"I like a challenge." He breathed in her flowery scent mixed with the fresh air of the Montana afternoon.
"Do you?" Her hazel eyes held more of the feisty spirit he'd come to expect from her. "Because I'm going to challenge you not to turn into your father."
"If John Stone wasn't in the hospital," he murmured, "I'd take you to meet him. You two are like fucking peas and carrots."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"I can't believe I'm admitting this," he said with a chuckle, "but it was meant as one."
Kiwi trotted over and began to gnaw on the toe of his shoe. Travis bent and picked up the little dog. "I can't meet your dad in loafers," he said.
Hailey blinked. "Why?"
"He's from Montana, right?"
"Third generation," she confirmed.
"He'll think I'm a pansy-ass city boy."
She didn't bother to hide her smile. "You are."
"I worked on a ranch."
"For one summer."
"I'm going to milk that summer for all it's worth when I'm with your folks," he told her, handing her the dog so he could lift both of their bags and lead her toward the airport parking lot. "One more debt I'll owe to John."
"I know how he'd want you to repay him," she said gently.
"Me too," he admitted.
***
"Princess, you've got to stop fussing over me." Hailey's father batted away her hands as she tried to tuck the blanket more closely around him on the old recliner in the farmhouse's cozy family room.
She rolled her eyes. "I flew all the way from Minnesota to fuss, so deal with it. Plus I haven't been your princess since I wore pigtails."
"You'll always be my princess," he said, tugging gently on the end of her ponytail. "And the day you find a man who treats you like one is the day you've found a keeper."
She bent to straighten the pile of newspapers on the floor next to the recliner, needing a moment to compose herself before she answered.
For years she'd believed her father when he called her a princess. She'd believed she was special and love would be the key to her happy future. Look where that had gotten her. She had to stop leading with her heart. Even when she'd landed a decent job, within a week she'd managed to get herself all twisted around on the inside over a man. Not just any man. Travis Jackson.
Travis had dropped her to her parents' house late that morning, but he'd honored her wish to have a private reunion with her mom and dad. She hadn't thought much beyond seeing her father and making sure he was okay. Travis told her he'd made a reservation at a hotel in downtown Bozeman, and that he'd come back out to her parents' small ranch when she was ready.
As much as she tried to hold on to her anger toward him, a lump of emotion had risen in her throat as she'd watched him drive away. He'd been a quiet, steady and surprisingly comforting presence at her side today.
"Have you found a keeper, Hailey?" Her father's gruff voice sliced into her musings.
"You know I didn't, Dad." She took a seat on the edge of the couch and leaned forward on her elbows. "David dropped me like a bad habit as soon as he realized a live-in girlfriend cramped his style with the on-campus co-eds."
"You know what I always say," her mother commented as she walked into the room with a tray that held a plate of apple slices and a pitcher of iced water.
"Not one word about cows or milk, Mama," Hailey warned her with a grimace. She'd been avoiding the I-told-you-so conversation with her parents for the past two weeks and wasn't fired up about having it now.
Her father snorted. "I'm not talking about that idiot professor. I mean the young man who rented a plane to fly you here then dropped you at our front door without a proper introduction."
"I asked him not to come in," she admitted, feeling suddenly petty for her request.
Her mother tsked softly. "After all he did?"
"Mom, the news that Mel's isn't renewing its contract with Big Sky is what caused Dad's"—she glanced at her father—"episode in the first place."
"It was a shock," her father said, "that's all. The shop is important to me, but not as important as family. We'll find a way to make a go of it, even without the merchandise from Mel's."
"For years so many local retailers have built their business on that gear. You love to tell the story of Grandpa's friendship with Mel Jackson."
"They were close," her dad confirmed. "But Mel's son wasn't the same type of man. It was a devastating blow to the company and the retailers when Mel died so suddenly and Dominic took over." He leaned forward, picked up an apple slice and shot a baleful look toward his wife. "We used to have fresh-baked cookies as an afternoon snack."
"Apples are better for your heart," she answered without hesitation.
"But Travis is the CEO now," Hailey argued. "Maybe he could be convinced to renew the contracts."
"I'm not sure it's that simple," her father said, making a show of popping an apple slice in his mouth then smiling at her mother as he chewed.
"It was no accident Mel wrote those contracts for thirty years," he said after swallowing. "I think he knew if anything happened to him, the relationships the company had with the stores wouldn't be safe. Dominic always wanted more, and he tried for years to find ways to pull the money back into Mel's corporate stash as opposed to sharing the profits with the retailers. He made sure it was well known that we owed him for our success, even though much of his was built on the relationships his father had. I think plans for this change have been in the works for a while now. Your Travis might just be the messenger, as much of a pawn to Dominic's whims as the rest of us."
She couldn't imagine Travis as a pawn for anyone, but from the little he'd told Hailey, she knew his relationship with his father was strained. That was being generous. She'd been quick to judge him, and felt justified making him into the bad guy in this situation. Maybe he was, but as her father liked to remind her, things in life weren't black and white.
"Do you want to meet him?" she asked.
Her father arched a brow. "Is he important to you?"
"Yes," she answered immediately, then sucked in a breath. "I mean...well...yes." There was no point in denying it, and, to her surprise, neither of her parents seemed upset by the news. They'd been so against her relationship with David and how quickly that had progressed. She couldn't believe they weren't putting up a fight against Travis.
"Invite him to dinner," her mother said, reaching for an apple slice. "I'd like to see for myself whether he takes after his father or his grandfather."
Hailey swallowed. Okay, maybe not a fight, but an invitation to dinner was part of the gauntlet in her family. David had only been asked to the house once, and it had been an unmitigated disaster. As much as she wanted to tell herself thing
s were casual with Travis, she felt her palms already starting to sweat. At least Mom hadn't suggested--
"I'm making meatloaf," her mother said.
Hailey shared a look with her dad. Meatloaf was serious to Janice Moore.
Apparently Hailey wasn't fooling anyone about her feelings for Travis.
Chapter 8
Travis couldn't remember the last time he'd been invited to someone's home for a family dinner. Not for years, and never by a girlfriend's parents. He paused halfway up the cobblestone walk that led to the front porch of the Moore's decades-old farmhouse. Was Hailey his girlfriend?
She probably wouldn't consider that the truth, but he certainly wanted it to be. Christ, they hadn't even had sex, and he was more invested in her than he had been in any woman other than his mom and sister.
One week and Hailey had invaded every part of his life. Leaving her at her parents' house earlier had been the hardest thing he'd done in a long time. On his way into town, he'd stopped at Big Sky Outfitters to purchase clothes and shoes that wouldn't make him stick out like a sore thumb in the rugged Montana town. He'd perused the large section--almost half the store--that housed the merchandise from the Mel's catalog.
A salesclerk had approached and explained Big Sky's relationship with Mel's, giving him details on the clothing and gear that Travis didn't even know. It was clear that Mel's was an important part of the store, and it gave him a better understanding of the loss retailers across the country would suffer when the line was pulled from stores at the end of the month.
It also made him even more nervous about meeting Hailey's father. He adjusted his collar then lifted a hand to ring the doorbell. The front door opened before he'd hit the button, and he staggered back a step as Hailey launched herself against him.
"I missed you," she whispered, her breath tickling his neck.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and buried his face in her silky blond curls, breathing in the floral scent he'd come to crave like the smell of coffee brewing in the early morning.
"You just saw me this morning," he said automatically, but felt his heart settle at the way she held tight.
"I still missed you," she said, then tipped back her head. "And..." she prompted.
"I missed you too," he told her, then claimed her mouth for a swift kiss.
"You aren't just saying that to make me happy?"
"No," he answered. "But it's a bonus that it does."
She dropped back down to the ground. "Thank you for bringing me home." Her grin spread ear to ear, and he couldn't help but return it. "Are those flowers for me?" she asked, eyeing the enormous bouquet in his hand.
He pulled one perfect pink rose out of the bunch and handed it to her. "This one is for you. The rest are for your mother."
"Suck-up."
"Do you blame me? I haven't exactly given your parents much of a reason to like me."
"I thought you didn't care if people liked you." She twirled the stem between her fingers. "I thought you wanted them to fear you and grovel and bow down before your greatness."
"I didn't say those exact things."
"The meaning was implied."
"I want your mom and dad to like me. I assume your dad is doing well?"
"He's great." She bit down on her lip, and his body reacted in a way that was almost embarrassing, seeing as he was standing on her parents' porch. "Don't worry about them liking you. They're excited to meet you, and I'm glad you're here."
He cocked a brow. "Are you still mad at me?"
"My dad pointed out," she said, wrinkling her nose, "that things may be more complicated than I know."
He studied her for a moment. "Then I owe a debt to your father," he told her quietly. "But don't try to make me a hero, Hailey. I'm bound to disappoint you."
"How about we move forward from where we are right now?" She slipped her hand into his. "Come on. Mom saw you drive up, so if I don't get you in there, she'll think you're out here corrupting me."
Oh, how he'd like to corrupt her.
He followed her into the house, and immediately it reminded him of his grandparents' lake cabin, where he'd spent weekends as a boy. A hodgepodge of thick, colorful wool rugs covered the faded hardwood floors, and the furniture was well made but definitely built for comfort. Framed photos covered every surface, and he stepped closer to a table behind the plaid sofa, drawn by the smile of a young girl that was clearly a younger Hailey.
She was standing in a trailer filled with hay bales, her arms wrapped around two older boys. So much had changed about her over the years, but not the sweet openness of her smile.
"Mom still gets all her photos printed," she said, following his gaze. "She loves having memories surrounding her."
"I can see why, when it looks like there were plenty of happy times." He flashed a wry smile. "The Jacksons aren't exactly known for our family harmony."
"But you had some good times, right?" She'd turned and was staring at him like his answer mattered more than her next breath.
"Yes," he said slowly. "My grandfather used to take us fishing on the lake, and my mom loved to snuggle at night and read books with us. My dad worked late or..." He breathed out a humorless laugh. "He came home after we were asleep a lot of nights. We'd pile up in their bed, and even Chase, who could never sit still, would read a book, since it meant being close to Mom."
"I'm sorry you lost her when you were so young."
Long-buried grief sliced through him, sharp and sizzling like a brand. Maybe things would have been different if his mother hadn't died. Maybe she would have helped him be strong enough to shake off his father's influence, the way his older brother had seemed to do so easily. But in his quest to gain his dad's acceptance, Travis had become a man he didn't like. Why had it been so easy to ignore his shortcomings before Hailey? Or maybe he simply hadn't cared about the man he was before her.
Now he feared it was too late to change. He was an adult, fully formed, and his path had been set.
"Hailey, are you coming to the table?" a gentle voice that almost reminded him of his mother called from the kitchen.
"Travis was just admiring your photos, Mom," Hailey answered, dragging him through the room. She glanced over her shoulder. "I know you're stalling."
Of course he was stalling. He hadn't been so nervous since...well, he couldn't remember a time he'd been this nervous.
They walked into the kitchen to find Hailey's mother placing fluffy, steaming rolls into a basket on the counter. Travis thought if someone looked up the definition of "perfect American mom" in the dictionary, Janice Moore's picture would be printed on the page. He could see her resemblance to Hailey, although her hair was more silver than blond and she wore it in a chin-length bob. She had on a pink and white striped shirt under a kitchen apron that read, "I am the boss." She looked perfectly at home in the kitchen, and he felt another pang of longing for his own mother.
"Well, you are indeed a Jackson," she said on a whoosh of breath, putting aside the basket of rolls and stepping forward. "You look just like your father and your grandfather."
"It's lovely to meet you, Mrs. Moore," Travis said, holding out the flowers. "I'm sorry the circumstances began in a difficult way."
"So formal," the older woman murmured, her blue eyes twinkling. "And well-mannered. You can call me Janice." She took the bouquet and smiled down at the colorful blooms. "Henry, he brought me flowers." She arched a brow at Hailey. "That other one never brought me anything but a surly attitude."
"Mom," Hailey said. "Stop."
"You know the way to my wife's heart." Hailey's father rose from the table and stepped toward Travis, his hand outstretched. "Janice loves flowers."
"Henry buys them for me at the farmers' market every week during the summer," Janice said as Travis shook Henry Moore's hand.
"That's a fine idea, sir," Travis told the tall, grey-haired man.
"Suck up," Hailey muttered.
Travis grinned.
"No sense sta
nding around when there's hot food on the table," Henry said, and returned to his seat. "Travis, I hope you like meatloaf and potatoes."
"Yes, sir." Travis lowered himself into the chair Henry indicated next to him.
"Good thing," the older man said with a wink. "Because you're about to be roasted."
***
"Dance with me?"
"Who are you?" Hailey asked, even as she slipped her hand into Travis's. "What have you done with the overbearing CEO I've come to know and..." She paused when he arched a brow. "Sort of like?"
Travis led her onto the dance floor at the most popular country bar in Bozeman. "It's still me," he said, drawing her into his arms. "Would you like me to fire you to prove it?"
"Clara would never let you get away with it." As he laughed, she placed her hand on his shoulder and tried not to let him see her shiver as he tightened his grip on her waist until their bodies were plastered together. He was so different from her, hard where she was soft, and the heat radiating from him made answering warmth swirl through her.
His breath tickled her forehead as they swayed to the sappy country ballad. Her eyes drifted closed and she allowed herself to be swept up in the moment and being held by this man. "Sort of like" might be the understatement of the century. Her feelings toward Travis, already on the verge of spiraling out of control, had only gotten exponentially stronger in the past couple of hours.
Dinner at her parents' had been better than she would have ever guessed. He didn't seem to mind the mini-interrogation by both her mom and dad, taking the time to answer each one with a great deal of thought and respect. Even when her dad asked about the company's motivation behind not renewing the retailer contracts, Travis hadn't tensed or relied on his power to shut down the subtle censure in her father's tone. He'd discussed the history that led to the decision and the company's plans for the future.
His answers hadn't satisfied her father, and there had been a lengthy discussion about Mel Jackson and his legacy. She expected Travis to get defensive, and had tried to steer the conversation to safer topics, but he seemed genuinely interested in her dad's insights. When the topic did change, it went to several embarrassing childhood stories about Hailey and her penchant for rescuing stray animals whether they wanted to be saved or not.