Making A Texas Cowboy (Home at Last Texas #1)

Chapter Six

J ackson couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent so much time in a library. But just sitting there, watching Jeremy read so intently, was worth every minute.

And personally, he was enjoying the fact that no one was bothering him. He doubted even a library back in L.A. would have protected him from the constant approaches of fans, anti-fans, and the giddy types with their ever-present cell phone cameras now called social influencers.

The boy had been obviously captured by the history of this small Texas town, and Joey the librarian had been wonderful about finding him books to read at his age level and, as she’d told Jackson, a bit above, since he was obviously capable of comprehending them. Jackson had felt a little burst of pride at that confirmation of what he’d always known—that his son was smart.

He sat there with the other book Joey had shown him, the first book done by her brother-in-law’s wife who, she had mentioned, had worked for Child Protective Services before she’d had to leave because of the emotional cost of dealing with abused and damaged children. The picture book featured a comical, but clever, pony named Murphy, and was clearly aimed at very young children, but even as an adult, he could see the appeal.

“Why’re you reading that little kid’s book?”

Jackson looked up to see his son looking at him quizzically. He smiled. “Because Murphy’s pretty funny.”

“But it’s for babies.”

“Just because it’s written for them doesn’t mean it’s no good for anyone else. Like your favorite comic, it’s for you, but some grownups like it too.”

“Oh.” The boy seemed to accept the argument, because he shrugged and said, “I gotta go to the bathroom.”

Since the facility was in his line of sight, Jackson just nodded and the boy scampered off. Even that made him smile. It had been so long since he’d seen the normal, high-energy kid his son had once been, every sign was balm to his battered soul. This was only their second day here, and he already knew it was the best decision he could have made.

He finished the whimsical story of Murphy the pinto pony, closed the book, and set it on the seat Jeremy had been using. He picked up the adult volume on Last Stand history Joey had given him, which he’d found as intriguing as Jeremy had found the youth version. He read a couple of pages, then looked toward the restroom, calculating how much time to give Jeremy before he went to check on him. Only the certainty that it would embarrass the boy mightily made him add an extra two minutes to his mental timer.

He read some more, then glanced toward the door to the restrooms again. This time Jeremy was there, just outside the door, talking—actually talking—to a woman standing there. Joey was with them, so he wasn’t really concerned. Funny, how he already trusted her. Must be the librarian in her, he thought with an inward grin.

When he looked up again, the three of them were headed toward him, Jeremy in the lead, followed by Joey and the other woman, who—

Who was the woman from yesterday. By the statue.

He stood up slowly, oddly uncertain of his balance. Her hair was in the braid again, at the moment brought forward to trail down over the front of what looked like the same denim jacket she’d had on when he’d first seen her. The jeans were different, looked newer, but still well broken in. Under the jacket was a sweater the same sea blue as her eyes. And it fit... well. Clung in all the right places, and she had some very right places.

And he was reacting to them again. In that way he’d thought dead and buried with Leah.

“Dad, Dad, she’s got horses. Can we go see them?”

Jeremy’s excited voice yanked his attention back, perhaps the only thing that could have.

“What?” he asked, looking at the librarian, feeling like he had to shake off some fog.

“Jackson,” Joey said, sounding a little self-conscious, despite the fact that he’d told her the “Mr. Thorpe” wasn’t necessary. “This is Nicole Baylor. She is a horse trainer— the horse trainer in Last Stand—and she’s invited Jeremy out to her family’s ranch to see them, if it’s all right with you.”

“Please, Dad?” Jeremy asked. “She says they’ve got a pony too.” A too-rare smile flashed across the boy’s face. “My size. Like in the book you liked.”

Bracing himself, he shifted his gaze to Ms. Baylor.

“Only if you’re amenable,” she said with a polite smile.

Oh, crap. She had one of those voices. Low, almost husky, the kind that had a man thinking all kinds of thoughts it was way, way too soon for. The kind that made you think of sleepy mornings after a passionate night.

He gave himself an inward shake. He had to focus on Jeremy now, and what was best for him. He was the reason they were even here, after all.

“That’s very kind of you,” he said noncommittally.

“I look at it as building the next gen of horse lovers,” she said, the smile more real this time.

“Which keeps you in business?” He regretted it as soon as it was out, because it sounded rather like an accusation, and he hadn’t meant it that way. “I didn’t mean—”

He stopped when she waved a hand and said, “I don’t deny that. But more importantly, I want to help assure they remain a big part of western culture. Because I happen to love them.”

“So do I,” he said simply, leaving it at that.

Something seemed to flicker in her gaze then, and he wondered if she was deciding whether she believed him or not. He didn’t blame her. He wasn’t a guy who’d grown up around horses, although he’d always found them beautiful. But the personal connection had come to him later, the first time he’d gotten a crew job on a western film. He’d met Tucker then, and the onetime rodeo cowboy-turned stuntman had introduced him to the reality of the creatures, and he’d fallen hard. He counted it as one of the three best and most life-changing days he’d ever had, the first two being when he’d met Leah, and when Jeremy had been born.

And Tucker Culhane had become his best friend.

“Joey says you’re visiting Last Stand. Do you have a vehicle, or access to one? We’re a few miles outside of town.”

When he hesitated—and he hated that he had to, but this relatively newfound fame had its downsides, and not being able to trust people he didn’t know was one of them—Jeremy moved. His too-thin shoulders slumped, and the unreachable child he’d been for so long started to reappear. He couldn’t stand it. He looked back at Ms. Baylor.

“We’re staying with my sister. We can borrow her car while she’s at work, like we did today. If you’re sure, I know Jeremy would love it.” And that’s more important than anything else right now.

“Then come,” she said. She pulled out a phone, called up a map, and shared it to his when he was ready. “Tomorrow late morning would be good. I’ll have some time to introduce Jeremy to our... shorter resident.”

He couldn’t help it... he smiled widely at that.

“We’re going?” Jeremy asked him as she started to walk away. “Really?”

“We’re going,” Jackson confirmed. The withdrawn child retreated, and the light that had dawned in the boy’s eyes since they’d come to Last Stand returned.

Ms. Baylor turned and looked back over her shoulder at them. “Do I need to apologize for yesterday?”

He blinked. Brow furrowed, he said, “Why? You... stopped someone from interrupting a kind of tricky moment.”

Again, he saw something shift in her expression. As if she hadn’t expected him to remember or maybe recognize her. As if any man breathing would forget a woman like her.

“I meant for being one of the few people in the country not to recognize you on sight. I don’t watch much TV.”

“Oh.” He gave her a wry smile. “No apology necessary. My ego may have inflated, but it’s not that huge.”

As she continued on her way, he tried to figure out why her admission that she hadn’t recognized him made him feel... good? That didn’t make any sense, other than it was always a bit of a relief dealing with people who didn’t. They were getting harder to find these days.

It wasn’t until, after checking out a couple of books for Jeremy and one for him on Tris’s library card, they were walking back out to Tris’s compact SUV that it hit him. Maybe, just maybe, her admission that she hadn’t recognized him yesterday, that she wasn’t a fan, somehow made the way she’d been looking at him mean more. Made it more real, more genuine. Like she’d been simply a woman looking at a man she... what? Was trying to place? Figure out how he was connected to Tris, the local?

Or a man she was attracted to?

Get over yourself, Thorpe.

Tucker’s oft repeated words, usually delivered with that laugh that reminded Jackson that the man had known him when he was nothing more than a wrangler or a background decoration on a set, ran through his head. And it gave him the strength to push the silly thoughts out of his head. He had no time for such things now, anyway.

He glanced at Jeremy and whispered a silent bit of thanks for that moment when the boy had wished aloud that a fictional place was real.