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

Chapter Thirty-Three

“I think we need to make a test run.”

Nic blinked. A test run? She had no idea what he meant, but then her thinking was a little foggy after the afternoon encounter they’d just had. The delightful, explosive encounter they’d just had, the latest one in the string that had made the last two weeks pass with lightning speed. She was already regretting that this one had to end before Jeremy finished his session with Mom, and she had to start her last training session of the day with a new client.

“I thought we were way past test runs,” she said, running a hand down his back to cup that taut backside she simply loved the feel of. “And we passed with flying colors,” she added with a grin.

He smiled back at her, but his voice was quietly serious when he spoke. “I meant a test run to see exactly how long it would take to get from here”—he patted the bed—“in this state, to your folks’ house.”

She frowned, puzzled now. She slid over onto her side, and he rolled with her, clearly intent on whatever this was. She propped herself up on one elbow. And waited. Jackson reached up and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers, an oddly gentle move, considering how crazed they had just been, taking each other wildly.

“I know you’re worried about your dad,” he said. “And you want to be close.”

She was no longer surprised when he made one of those perceptive jumps. She’d never told him why she’d always stayed in her wing of the main house, even when this place she loved had been empty.

“Mom can only do so much,” she said, admitting it.

“I know. I think if we install an alarm or panic button that registers up here, and we practice a bit, we could get it down to, say, three minutes, to get down there. We can practice up on CPR, too, and I think I could carry him to the car if necessary, and—”

“Jackson,” she said, cutting him off. “What, exactly, are you getting at?”

He grimaced. “I just wanted to... I’m trying to figure out a way...” He let out a clearly exasperated breath, jammed his fingers through his hair, and grimaced again. And when he spoke this time, it was short and blunt. “I want you here. All the time. So I’m trying to figure out how to make it work. So you’ll say yes.”

“You want me to... move in with you?”

“You said you’ve always loved his place, and I figured the only reason you didn’t move in before was your dad, so if I could fix it so we could get there fast enough—”

He stopped suddenly, an odd expression coming over his face. That face millions of women loved, and that she did now, as well, although for entirely different reasons.

“Unless,” he began hesitantly, “I’m jumping the gun here. If you don’t want—”

She put a finger up to his lips to stop the words. “I want. I so want.” She gave him a rather embarrassed smile. “Not saying I don’t like sneaking up here while Jeremy’s having lessons. It’s rather titillating, I have to admit. But things would be a lot easier if... we had every night together.”

He let out a sigh that sounded so relieved, it made her smile even wider. But then his brow furrowed again. “How would your parents feel about you moving in with me?”

That he was even concerned about that made her throat tighten, but she kept her tone light. “Mom would be delighted. Dad... well, he likes you. Respects you. So I think he’d be okay with it.”

He looked as if he was about to say something else, but changed his mind. Instead, he pulled her close and kissed her again, long, deep and thorough.

And they nearly didn’t finish before Jeremy arrived.

*

“I understand why you got scared,” Nic said to Jeremy. “So did I.”

The boy looked up at her, some of the hot chocolate he’d just finished drinking rimming his mouth. “You did?”

“When I found out who came to see your dad, yeah, I did. I was afraid he was going to take you and go back to L.A.”

“Me too. That man, he sounded so mean—”

“He did. That’s why I told him to get out.”

She looked up as Jackson spoke, just as he came to a halt at the table with a second mug for Jeremy. He’d spoken calmly enough, but there was an edge in his voice that made her wish she’d been here to see him tell the guy off.

His boss, essentially. He’d kicked his boss out.

He pulled out the chair on Jeremy’s other side and took one of the boy’s hands in his. “You’re happier here than you’ve been in a long time.”

Jeremy gave him a rather sly look from under lowered lashes. “So are you.”

Jackson shifted his gaze to her as he said, “Yes. I am.” Nic felt a more searing heat than the hot chocolate flooding her, and she couldn’t answer except to hold that gaze.

“Lark says it’s okay. To be happy again. That it doesn’t mean we love Mom any less.”

She felt Jackson go very still before he said, in the tone of a man who felt as if he were walking on eggshells, “Do you think she’s right?”

Slowly, the boy nodded. “She asked when Mom was the happiest, and that she bet it was when I was happy.”

“She’s right.”

Jeremy nodded. “So that’s why it’s okay to be happy.” He gave his father a sideways look. “You too.”

Jackson’s mouth curved into that lopsided half grin she loved. “Thanks,” he said, reaching up to tousle the boy’s hair.

“So,” Jeremy said hesitantly, almost but not quite fearfully, “we’re not going back?”

“We are not,” his father answered firmly. “We’ve made more of a home here in six weeks than we ever had in L.A.”

“But your boss, he was mad.”

“He’s not my boss anymore.” He gave Nic a sideways look that told her where Jeremy had gotten the knack. “If he’s willing to keep on a half-useful hand, your dad is.”

Nic couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped. “He’ll be willing.” I’ll make sure of that.

Jeremy was eyeing them both now, too young to hide the mental calculating he was doing behind those eyes so like his father’s. “Maybe Nic could stay here with us.”

Judging by his expression, that had caught Jackson as off guard as it had her. That easily, the task of explaining to the boy was... unnecessary.

“I’d like that,” Jackson said after a moment. “A lot.”

“I would too,” she said softly.

“Good,” Jeremy said, sounding pleased. He looked at his empty breakfast plate. “’Cuz I like her French toast.”

Nic couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing. “Then you shall have that treat every Sunday morning.”

The boy gave a cheer and grabbed his mug of chocolate, draining it.

She’d swear she could feel Jackson looking at her. And when she looked up, she wasn’t surprised; the heat in his gaze fairly sizzled. “And what treat do I get every Sunday morning?”

An answering heat rose in her again. “Oh, I think deciding that will take a lot of... experimenting.”

“I’m good with that,” he said, that rough edge that set her on fire coming into his voice.

As if he hadn’t noticed a thing—or as if everything seemed perfectly normal to him—Jeremy asked blithely, “Are we going to get Maverick today? Mr. Chance said we could.”

“Then we will,” Jackson answered.

“He said his wife was married before, and he was killed in the Army. But now they’re married and really, really happy.”

Before either of them could react to that, the boy was off and clambering up the ladder to his loft, no doubt to get dressed for the much-anticipated visit to the Rafferty ranch to pick up the golden—in more ways than one—dog.

“Are you sure about this? Staying here with us, I mean?”

She hesitated, then decided to admit it. “You want to know the real reason we hadn’t rented this place before? Me. I didn’t want to. Because I wanted to live in it. I just couldn’t figure out how to tell my folks.”

She got that crooked half grin again. Yes, she definitely loved it. Loved him.

“So now you’re going to tell them you’re moving in... with me?”

“Dad’ll be surprised. Mom, not a bit.” She took a deep breath, then, because she felt she owed it to him, she added, “I finally realized why I fought you so hard, in the beginning. And why I was so quick to think the worst when your boss showed up.”

“Why?”

“Because deep down, I knew. That this was it. You were the one. And I was afraid to believe it.”

“I’m glad you got over that,” he said with that grin again.

She studied him across the table for a moment, taking in every bit of that face she’d come to adore. If he was worried about his current situation, it didn’t show. But she felt she needed to know what he—what they —would be dealing with, so she asked.

“Are you going to be in big legal trouble?”

He shrugged. “It’ll probably cost me a bit.”

“And you’re really going to walk away from the biggest show around?”

“More now than ever,” he said, suddenly very serious. “Because now I know how wrong we were, about so much.” He hesitated, then went on. “I told Swiff that too. That if he wanted to move it to the real Texas, instead of some stupid West Coast idea of it, then I’d consider coming back.”

“I’m sure the Texas Film Commission would jump at the chance of that,” she said.

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t bet money on them doing it. Swiff doesn’t take well to ultimatums. He’s used to giving them. Besides, they’ve got everything in place back there.”

She liked the way he didn’t say back home. But that didn’t stop her from saying, “Including snow-capped mountains that don’t exist. And people driving a half hour outside of Dallas and being in ranch country. Half an hour outside of Dallas is still Dallas.”

Her tone was dry, but he still laughed and shook his head. “I know, I know.”

“Regrets?”

He winced slightly. “A couple. The crew guys. Tucker, mostly. I think he’ll be okay, but...”

She wasn’t surprised by his words, or that his first concern was that particular group. The one he’d once been part of. She remembered the interview clip she’d come across that night when she’d weakened and done a bit of searching on their new tenant. Tucker Culhane, explaining that Jackson could do most of his own stunts, but didn’t so that he, Tucker, would have work.

As she’d predicted, her mother wasn’t at all surprised when she’d announced her relocation, after the alert system Jackson had proposed had been built and installed, by local tech wizard, Cody Rafferty. A simple push of a button would set off an alarm in the barn, ranch vehicles, and in the house on the hill.

Somewhat appropriately, she told them on Valentine’s Day. She was surprised, and a bit curious, when Jackson had taken her parents aside to speak to them alone for a few minutes. Maybe working out the details of a long-term—permanent, she hoped—rental agreement. But then she guessed she knew what he’d really asked when her mother announced Jeremy would be staying with them tonight, to give them time to get settled together.

She packed up what she thought would be immediately necessary. Jackson blinked at her two boxes of clothes, and a third of boots. “That’s it?”

She raised a brow at him. “Expecting a dozen suitcases?”

He laughed. “Guess I haven’t completely shed L.A. yet.” But then he scanned the boxes and, after a moment, gave her a sideways look that sent a flare of heat through her. “You did pack that little blue number, didn’t you?”

“Now why would you ask that?” She kept her tone light, even though her pulse had kicked up a notch.

“Because,” he said, his voice taking on that rough note that sent heat rocketing through her yet again, “I want to peel it off you. Like I didn’t get to that night after the saloon.”

Their first night together. The memories flooded her, and the heat became a firestorm. “I’ll put it on the minute we get there,” she promised huskily, delighting in the answering heat that lit up those famous eyes of his.

And their first night in their new home together was more than she ever could have wished for. A Valentine’s Day she needed no card—although he, and sweetly, Jeremy, had both given her one, along with a box of her favorite chocolate mini-cupcakes from Kolaches—to make special.

Because nothing could be more special than this night alone with the man she’d never expected to find. The man she loved.

And who, beyond doubt or probability, loved her.