The Hard-to-Get Cowboy

“You’re not,” she said.

Jackson had sure called it correctly. And when Laila nudged a chair away from the table with her foot, she only emphasized the point.

Had Cade proposed again to this woman who’d announced to the whole town that she Never. Wanted. To. Get. Married?

Was that why she looked like a deer caught in the headlights?

Cade had seen her pushing out the chair, too, but Jackson only tipped his hat to them both, then took a seat, signaling to a waitress who came right over, all smiles.

“What can I do you for?” she asked.

“A round of beers,” Jackson said. “On my tab.”

When she scuttled off, she left a view of the bar, and Jackson couldn’t help but notice that many a male gaze was turned his way, obviously envious that he was sitting at Laila’s table. One man in particular—a cowboy with a chunky silver belt buckle and a mustache—watched Jackson for a moment too long before looking away.

Cade’s voice rumbled. “Not tonight, Traub.”

Jackson was checking in with Laila, whose smile was forced, even though it seemed to be asking him to stay, no matter what.

Sure enough.

When Jackson faced Cade, the man seemed likely to wring his neck, if the sight of his bunched fists on the tabletop meant anything.

Time for some peace talk. “Just introducing myself around town.” He stuck out his hand for a shake. “You can call me Jackson.”

“I know who you are.” Cade shot Laila a glance, and if it could speak, it would’ve said, You gonna do anything to get him out of here or should I?

But when Laila only took a sip of the lemonade that had been waiting in front of her all this time, Cade stood, got out his wallet, then tossed some bills on the table.

When he spoke, it was to Laila, and it was far quieter than Jackson expected.

“Just think about what I said.”

Then he was gone, leaving only the background murmur of bar discussion over the strains of Merle Haggard on the jukebox.

The waitress came with the beers, and Jackson decided that if Cade wouldn’t be around to drink his, he would gladly do the honors.

He didn’t make anything out of the sassy smile that the waitress gave him, instead taking a swig of his drink, then leaning back in his chair and grinning at Laila.

There was a little beauty mark near the tip of her mouth, and he wished she would smile, just as prettily as she had on that stage last week. But he was out of luck. She only traced a pattern on the table from the condensation that had dropped down from the lemonade mug.

“Was I in the wrong when I sat down here?” Jackson asked.

“No, you weren’t. Thank you. It was one of those discussions. You know—the kind that you don’t want to have in the middle of a bar?”

“Glad to have been of assistance.”

She sighed, still tracing pictures on the table. Jackson couldn’t make hide nor hair of what she was drawing.

“If he puts the moves on you again,” he said, meaning to cheer her up, “you just give a holler. He’s big, but I can take him.”

There it was—a wisp of a smile now.

“Truly,” he added. “I know how to dodge and weave. Also, I’ve got a twin back home who’s always willing to stand up for a lady, too.”

“Good heavens—there’s more than one of you?”

He chuckled. “I’m afraid so.” Getting even more comfortable, he propped his booted ankle just above his knee. “But Jason’s far less reckless. That’s what everyone says, anyway.”

“I’d heard you’re a rebel, even before you showed up at the pageant to cause mischief.”

He took that in stride. “Heard from who?”

She had a flush on her cheeks, and it looked so sweet that Jackson’s veins tangled.

“I’d heard,” she said, “just in general. Thunder Canyon’s a small town, so gossip travels.”

“I know. That’s why I proposed to you, Miss Laila—because I’d heard you were the perfect woman for me.”

Her gaze widened.

He laughed. “You don’t have to say it again—the part about your never getting married. The message came through loud and clear at the pageant.”

She blew out a breath, as if she’d been dreading having to repeat it to yet another suitor. It made him think that Cade’s pageant proposal had been much more than just an impetuous moment, that it bothered her far more than she’d let on in public.

That she was just as determinedly single as he was?

“I happen to agree 100 percent with you about the holy state of matrimony,” he said. “I’m not sure what the appeal is.”

“Ask your brothers, Corey and Dillon. I’m sure they can wax on about it.”

“No, thanks. It’s bad enough that Ethan just got engaged, too. I never thought I’d see him strapping himself to a ball and chain. All I can do now is hope that Jason and my sister, Rose, stick with me.”

“You talk as if the rest of your family has abandoned you or something.”

He paused. He’d never thought of it that way before, but that’s what he’d been feeling during Corey’s wedding—abandonment. Being left behind while everyone else traveled ahead to what were supposed to be bigger and better things in life.

She seemed to realize that she’d hit some kind of target on him, whether he’d meant to show it or not.

“Or maybe you’re just a born rebel,” she said. “I could tell the minute you jumped into the fray at the pageant that your skills were instinctive.”

“Hey, I was only trying to ease a tense situation.” He shrugged. “And maybe have a little fun.”

“I rest my case.”

He picked up his mug, toasted her with it, then drank.

When he was done, she was watching him, her bluebonnet eyes narrowed just the slightest bit, as if she was turning over a million questions about him in her head.