by Erica Penrod
He acted like a coward full of yellow mustard, but when Waylon had taken Gemma, he’d understood just how far his love for her went, and he couldn’t get past it. Living without his parents and dealing with Waylon’s addiction was more than enough for one man; loving a woman the way he did would push him over the edge if he ever lost her. He’d rather end things now, on his terms, than have her ripped from his life without warning.
Jamon passed beneath the trees, through the clearing, and into the wooded area. He put slack in the reins and let the horse set its own pace. He wasn’t in a hurry, at least not today. The open house was scheduled for Friday, three days from now, and he’d worry about that tomorrow. He’d received an email from Gemma earlier today confirming she’d be there with him at the ribbon-cutting ceremony. The thought terrified him, but there was no way he’d make it through the day without her to keep things running smoothly.
A distant noise drifted through the trees, and Jamon stopped the horse. He listened, baffled by the sound. It sounded like music, but he shook off the notion. Jamon kissed to the horse, and they followed the trail. With each stride, the noise became clearer. It was music. What in the heck was going on?
Maybe the construction workers had a radio going. Perhaps that’s what Howard had wanted him to check on, to make sure they were working. He urged the horse forward, up the hill and onto the level ground. A Chris LeDoux song streamed from a speaker sitting on a simple barnwood picnic table. There were wildflowers in a mason jar in the center, and a small fire burned in a fire pit surrounded by cobble rocks. Jamon furrowed his brow and looked around just as Gemma walked out from the trees.
“It took you long enough, cowboy. I had you scheduled to arrive thirty minutes ago.”
“What?” He got off the horse and looked around. His body weakened, like he’d been riding for days straight, and he avoided her eyes. “We didn’t have anything planned that I knew of.”
She walked towards him, and he couldn’t resist: he looked up. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. Her auburn hair hung in loose waves over her shoulders, and she wore a button-down shirt tied in a knot at her waist, exposing just a hint of cream-colored flesh above her dark jeans. His heart sped up as desire sent liquid fire though his veins. When he saw her long legs were clad in her Lucchese boots, he was done for.
“Oh, we’ve got plans; you just didn’t get the memo.”
Jamon dropped the reins and the horse wandered over to graze. Gemma stopped in front of him; her scent of vanilla and lace intoxicated him, and he couldn’t remember why it was he was supposed to stay away from this seductive creature. “Gemma, I—”
She put her finger to his lips, and he fisted his hands to keep from reaching for her. “Listen, I know what you’re doing, and I don’t accept it. All this time, you’ve shown me what the cowboy way is … until now. There’s nothing cowboy about the way you’ve tucked your tail and ran.”
He grinned at her terminology.
“And you promised me that you would never treat me badly again, and I believed you were a man of your word.” Gemma tilted her head and moved in closer, their lips inches apart. He smelled the mint of her mouth and knew he was helpless. The way his heart, mind, body, and soul belonged to this woman was something he couldn’t control. “So, are you a man of your word, now that the goin’ got tough? Are you cowboy enough to love me, no matter what?”
A lump lodged itself in his throat and he couldn’t speak. Her strawberry lips glistened, and he wanted nothing more than to taste them, but how could he? “Gemma, you’ll never be safe around me. If it’s not Waylon, it’s something or somebody else bound to take you away from me, and I can’t do that.” The agony of what happened with Waylon and Gemma was branded on his heart.
“Maybe you don’t have a choice. When we love, it’s a gamble, and that’s part of life. I can’t pretend to know the pain of what you’ve gone through, but I know I’d rather risk a lifetime of sorrow for a day of loving you.” She touched his cheek, and her palm was soft and warm, like a safe place to fall.
“But Gemma …” His eyes blurred. “I don’t know if I can.” He’d already lost so much and somehow survived, but if something ever happened to Gemma, he’d have to be buried right beside her.
“I do.” She pressed her lips to his. “I know you can.”
Heaven help him, he loved this woman, and it scared the tar out of him.
But she was right.
He’d never wish away the little time he’d had with his parents or the good memories he had of his brother, just to escape the heartache of losing them. He reached up and brushed the hair from her face. “I love you, and I want nothing more than to keep you safe.”
“I know that, but there are no guarantees.” She leaned into his touch. “I’d say your chances of keeping me safe are a lot higher with Bravo on our side.” Her mouth curved into a smile.
“Yeah, I think so too.”
“So, what do you say? Are you in this thing with me?” She bit her lip. “No matter what comes our way?”
Jamon stared into her eyes and saw forever. “I’m in.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, the love between them sealed in that moment. “I promise I will love you for always.”
“Forever and ever?” Gemma touched her forehead to his.
“Just like Johnny and June.”
“Like who?”
Jamon kissed her nose. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”
Gemma laughed. “I’m not quite as country as you’d prefer?”
He pulled her close, buried his face in her hair, and whispered in her ear. “You’re close enough to perfect for me.”
Chapter Seventeen
Gemma mentally checked off her to-do list as she fastened the back of her earring. Today was the day she wanted everything to be perfect—well, more perfect than usual. This was Jamon’s dream come true: the research facility was ready.
She looked in the mirror and smoothed her hair, which she’d straightened and pulled back in a ponytail. Her cream-colored suit, with a tailored jacket and flared slacks, matched perfectly with the new Gucci shoes she’d ordered just for the occasion. The finishing touch to her outfit was the smile on her face, the pink to her cheeks, and the light in her eyes. And that was all Jamon.
Her phone vibrated. She grabbed the device from the counter and swiped the screen to read the text.
Hey, beautiful, are you ready for this?
Her heart thumped in her chest. Of course. How about you?
As nervous as a porcupine in a balloon factory.
Gemma laughed and shook her head. She and Jamon had gone over his speech for the ribbon-cutting ceremony for more than an hour last night; he was more than prepared.
You’ll do just fine, she responded.
As long as you’re by my side to hold me up by my bootstraps. I’m just getting in the car now. Be there in fifteen.
See you then. I love you. Gemma bit her lip as her body warmed from head to toe. She loved being in love with Jamon.
I love you.
Gemma put the phone down and checked her reflection one more time. She had to admit, she’d never felt prettier. Love was definitely her color.
* * *
Rain came down in a slow steady drizzle and heavyset clouds crowded out the sun as Gemma and Jamon got out of the car. Jamon wore the dark blue suit and pin-striped tie she’d picked out for him, to coordinate with his lucky brown boots he insisted on wearing. His dark hair was cut short, showing off his facial features: angular bone structure, deep brown eyes, full lips, and her favorite, the cleft in his chin. Her breath caught as he took her hand, and her heart pumped a little faster.
Charles held the limousine door with one hand and an umbrella in the other. Once he escorted Jamon and Gemma across the walk and underneath the huge tent, he went back to the car. Charles would drive back to the house to pick up Howard, along with Sophia, Henry, and the other household staff, to attend the open hou
se.
They were early, which was right on time. Gemma had hired one of Seattle’s most sought-after event planners, Karen Veda, to coordinate the caterers, the setup, security, and anything else required to put on an open house of this caliber. Politicians, doctors, scientists, and of course the press were invited to attend, along with several neighbors from The Cove, including Adam Moreau and his fiancée, Bella Creer, and Jetton Bolt and his family.
Everything looked in order, and there were already several members of the press snapping photographs. Jamon was scheduled for an interview before the ribbon-cutting ceremony. Several rows of chairs with an aisle down the middle were on the far end. A podium sat front and center with a microphone. Fresh floral arrangements were on either side, and the surprise she’d planned for Jamon was set in place.
Jamon held her hand as they passed through the tall tables in the back, meant for guests to enjoy an appetizer and drink as they mingled. “I think up front will be the best place to do the interview, don’t you?” He guided her towards the podium.
He froze in his tracks when he saw them—the photographs. With Howard’s help, Gemma had located several pictures of Jamon’s family from his childhood and had each one made into a black-and-white canvas. Each picture told a story, from his parents’ wedding to two young boys on stick horses. His father riding a big white horse with a rope in his hand. Jamon on a pony with Waylon holding the lead rope. A ten-year-old Jamon, with a wide grin and big front teeth, smiling for the camera with a first-place ribbon in his hand from the science fair. A family photograph at the beach.
Jamon took them all in, but when he got to the last picture in the collection, his eyes misted up. It was a photograph of Waylon on Flash that Howard had taken about a week before the accident. Waylon was thin and gawky, his long legs hung over the sides of the horse, and his unkempt hair wisped around his face, but it was his eyes that captured the camera. There was a light, something Gemma found hard to believe after the Waylon she’d encountered.
“You did this?” Jamon squeezed her fingers. “Where did you find these?”
Gemma exhaled, her own emotions rising close to the surface. “Howard helped me. I thought that maybe it was time Seattle saw who you were and tried to fit in your world, instead of the other way around. I thought it was important for the world to know why this place is so significant to you.”
Jamon drew her to his side and kissed the top of her head. “I don’t know what to say.”
She held him tighter. “And I think it ties in perfectly with the research facility’s name, don’t you?”
He smiled softly as he glanced up at the huge lettering across the front of the building. “The Waylon West Research Center for Scientific Equine Innovation.” Jamon turned to her. “I think you’re right. I just wish he was here to see it.” Jamon wiped at his eyes. “Or that he was clean enough to understand.”
“I think I can help you with that.” Koven placed his hand on Jamon’s shoulder, and Gemma grinned as phase two of her surprise came into play. “Take a look at this.” He handed Jamon his tablet.
* * *
Jamon’s brother looked like hell on the small screen. Dark circles like half-moons hung beneath his eyes, and his skin hung from his bones. But there was something different about him since Jamon had last seen him just over a week ago. It was his eyes—a flicker of light that hadn’t been there before.
“Hi, bro.” Waylon’s voice cracked.
“Hello.”
“I don’t want to interrupt your big day, but Koven told me about the research facility and what you called the place, and I wanted to tell you thank you.” His brother choked up and brushed at the tears falling down his face. “But most of all, I wanted to tell you how sorry I am, for everything, and how proud I am of the man you’ve become.” A sob escaped Waylon, and Jamon had to hold back his own. “I know that Mom and Dad are looking down on you right now from heaven, and that Seattle rain … well, that’s just their tears of joy.”
Jamon’s body shook, and Gemma buoyed him up, holding him even tighter. He found strength with her touch, reassuring him that his life would be forever better for having her beside him. Tears fell down his face, and he closed his eyes for just a moment.
“One more thing.” Waylon’s voice awoke him. “I want you to know I’m going to try this time, to get clean and stay clean. This place you’ve sent me to is the real deal. They don’t put up with my crap, and for the first time in …” He ran his fingers through his hair. “… since I can remember, I’ve got hope.”
“I’m glad. Really, I am.” Jamon smiled through the tears. He wanted to believe his brother, but part of him hesitated. They’d been down this road before, and Jamon didn’t want to be crushed all over again.
Gemma seemed to sense his apprehension, and she squeezed his hand. He’d have faith, no matter the outcome. Waylon needed his brother to believe in him. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted, was for you get well. Work hard, and I will too, and when you’re ready, you’ve got a place to come home to.”
Koven took the tablet after he and Waylon said goodbye, and Gemma wrapped her arms around his neck. Jamon took comfort in her strength and leaned into her. “Thank you.” He kissed her lips. “This means more to me than I can ever convey to you.” He stroked her cheek. “I love you.” He’d never know what he did so right to gain the love of this amazing woman next to him, but he planned to spend the next six decades showing her his appreciation. His world was brighter with Gemma in it, no matter how grey the sky was. She was the sun to his moon, and together the possibilities were endless.
“I love you too, cowboy.”
After they shared a long embrace, Koven cleared his throat. “Not to interrupt, but you’ve got guests arriving and a busy day ahead of you.”
Jamon laughed and turned to Gemma. “Alright, let’s get to work.” He kissed her lips. “What’s next on the schedule?”
She giggled and kissed his cheek. “First, you give a speech, cut the ribbon, and then we celebrate.”
“Sounds good to me.” Jamon took her hand in his, loving the way they fit so seamlessly together.
“Oh, and I forgot to mention one last item of business for the day.” There was a twinkle in her eye, igniting his curiosity.
“What’s that?”
Gemma leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Eight o’clock tonight. Meet me at the haystack.” She bit her lip, and his mouth watered. “We’ll have our own celebration.” She winked at him, and his knees went weak as he imagined their party for two. They’d spread a blanket out, where he’d kiss her and then hold her as they dreamed about the future.
Jamon glanced at his watch, and his chest deflated. Over eight hours? This might be the longest day of his life. He didn’t know how he’d think about anything else with visions of Gemma in his arms distracting him. “Maybe you should’ve mentioned your plans after I’d given the speech.”
“Nah, you’ve got a brilliant mind. You’ll remember every word.” Gemma let go of his hand and wrapped her arm around his waist. “But maybe it’s best not to mention what I’ve planned to wear at our celebration.”
Jamon gulped down the knot in his throat. “Not the plaid green shirt and my favorite jeans?”
She pursed her lips and nodded.
“And the boots?” His speech just got a lot shorter.
“Of course.”
Now she was just being cruel.
He exhaled and shook his head as they walked towards the podium. He was about to find out just how smart he really was and whether his mind could focus on the words he’d memorized, or if his thoughts would drift away and settle on his beautiful distraction.
Jamon mustered up some courage and forged his way to the microphone. One way or the other, he’d have to learn how to function coherently in the world, because he planned on being distracted by Gemma every day for the rest of his life.
Chapter Eighteen
Gemma whistled a Tim McGraw tune as she clutche
d the blanket to her chest and carried the picnic basket in the other. She’d discovered she was a fan of country music, something she never thought she’d admit to, but every song reminded her of her cowboy and she couldn’t help but love anything that made her think about Jamon. Past the barn, she saw the hay stacked beneath a covered pavilion, and knew this was the place she’d make things up to Jamon after teasing him at the open house today.
She turned the corner and looked up, ready to climb to the perfect spot, when she saw him. Her heart skipped as she took in the man with a straw cowboy hat, denim shirt, and jeans, waiting for her like he was her personal piece of heaven.
“Hey there.” She adjusted the basket over her arm and started to climb. “You beat me here. I was worried you might be late after your big day.”
Jamon climbed down, took the basket in one hand, and helped her up with the other. “No, my girlfriend doesn’t like me to be late.”
“She sounds like a tyrant.” She grinned as they moved up the stack.
“Sometimes.” Jamon flinched as Gemma scowled at him. “But you should see the way she looks in a pair of jeans.” He kissed her softly. “You look amazing, by the way.”
Gemma wasn’t sure she’d ever understand why Jamon found her so attractive in a plaid shirt and jeans, but the way he looked at her right now might just convince her to wear them every day. “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.” Gemma smiled as Jamon led her past the hay bale where he’d been sitting. “You don’t want to sit here?” She paused and caught her breath, ready to spread out the blanket.
“No, let’s go up and over a little ways. I think there’s a better spot over there.”
They climbed to the top, and Gemma breathed heavily. She looked around and saw where a small door was built into the A-frame.