Page 18 of Just One Look

Jackson

“Man, I am beat,”

I say with a groan, flopping down onto the wooden bench for my meeting with Maverick. I stretch my arms over the back and accidentally brush his upper arm.

“Sorry. I’ll move away.”

He smiles a slightly crazy-eyed smile at me. Seriously. What is it with him and this bench?

“No. You’re fine.”

The anti-Maverick plan has been in limbo ever since my tactic of overloading him with all the expenses didn’t pan out the way I expected it to. I’ve also put a halt to the morning coffees and notes.

No more messing with him.

At least not until I come upon something that actually works. Plans A and B have both bombed so far, so I’m easing off, being, dare I say it, genuinely nice to him. Or something in the general vicinity of niceness. It’s the least I can do after giving the guy even more shit to worry about.

“So what’s this about? Am I in trouble?”

His lips stretch into a taut smile before his eyes dart away quickly.

“Surprisingly, no.”

“But something is up?”

“Yeah.”

“Hang on a sec,”

I say, fishing out the sanctuary’s cell phone. It’d be great if we had admin staff to handle overnight calls, but that’s another expense I’m pretty sure Maverick can’t afford right now. He and I take turns fielding out-of-hours emergencies. I hand him the phone.

“Before I forget.”

“Oh, right. Thanks.”

He places it on the bench beside his thigh.

“So what’s up?”

Reaching behind him, he pulls out a black binder. “Here.”

I take it from him and start skimming through the laminated pages. The finer details elude me, but I’m able to see enough to get the gist.

“What are all these cabins?”

“They’re pretty neat, huh?”

I slam the binder shut and turn to him.

“Where are you going with this?”

“A code officer came by today and inspected your cabin.”

“Today? When?”

“When you were at Clancy’s.”

I blink a few times.

“Someone went through my home, and you didn’t think to tell me in advance?”

“I’m sorry. I…I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“You wanted what to be a surprise?”

He flicks his index finger toward the binder in my lap.

“Your new cabin. You can pick whichever one you like. They’re all bigger than where you currently have, and there’s some really cool space-saving designs, more storage, better insulation.”

I close my eyes.

“Stop. Talking. Please.”

He does, and I inhale sharply, steadying myself in an attempt to calm the storm he’s ignited in me. That cabin may be nothing to him, but it’s been my home for the past seven years. I like that it’s small. I like that it’s simple. I like that I’ve memorized the layout and have practiced navigating the space blindfolded. It’s not just a cabin; it’s where I feel most safe. And he’s going to rip it away from me.

“You can’t do this,”

I say, opening my eyes and fixing him with an unwavering stare.

“I have to.”

“Bullshit. This is just your way of getting back at me.”

“For what?”

“For coming up with that stupid list of all the things that need fixing around here to overwhelm you.”

His jaw locks.

“What? I thought you compiled that list because you genuinely care about this place and getting back to where it should be?”

“I…I do.”‘

He sneers, shaking his head.

“No fucking way. You did it to get at me. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

My anger erupts.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You waltz in here and think you can upend my whole fucking life.”

“Waltz in here?”

he spits.

“I’ve been here for over two months, abiding by your ridiculous rules and staying out of your way, doing the best I can on my own while knowing absolutely diddly squat about running a horse rescue and not wanting to waste money on the wrong things. For someone who claims to be passionate about this place, some actual real help would have been appreciated.”

I push to my feet.

“Now you’re just patronizing me.”

He stands as well.

“That’s the last thing I’m doing. I respect you, Jackson.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Believe it or don’t, that’s up to you. You are brilliant at what you do. Why else would I be bending over backward to accommodate every single one of your requests?”

A beat passes as his words wash over me. That’s actually a really good question. Why has he been putting up with my shit all this time?

My mind is too scrambled to answer that right now, overwhelmed by the awful reality that I’m going to be losing my sanctuary.

“You can’t do this,”

I repeat, a quiver in my voice.

“I can, and I have.”

I don’t like the finality of that, not one bit.

“What do you mean?”

“I was issued a formal notice. The cabin needs to be demolished within thirty days. You can’t live there anymore.”

My jaw drops.

“Starting when?”

Maverick dips his head and kicks some dirt with his polished shoe. “Today.”

“What? You’re kicking me out today?”

“I’m not kicking you out. I’m here to help you pack. And I’ve been looking into it. There are options. Clancy says you can move back into your old room at his place, or you’re welcome to stay with me at the winery. I have two spare rooms.”

The more he talks, the more I want to drive my knuckles into a punching bag to relieve the anger burning a hole inside me. I push to my feet.

“Fuck you, Benson.”

He stands up, staying close.

“I’ve warned you before. Do not speak to me like that,”

he utters through clenched teeth.

“Or what?”

I eliminate the gap between us and poke him in his chest.

“You’ll fire me?”

The muscle in his jaw ticks. His eyes are locked on mine, blazing with a searing intensity.

“If you keep doing it, then yes, I will. I know this is difficult for you, but I am still your boss. And I’m trying to help you. As a friend.”

“We are not friends,”

I spit out.

“And just so you know, I hate the fact that you’re my boss. I hate the fact that you’re even here on—”

I manage to stop myself from blurting out on my family’s land.

“Jackson.”

His voice vibrates with a low warning, but I’m caught in a riptide of anger I can’t free myself from. I hate that he’s booting me out of my home. I hate that I haven’t been able to get him out of my mind. And I really fucking hate how much I love being this close to him. I get to see all the details of his face that are fuzzy when he’s further away. His strong jaw. The gentle slope of his nose. Those striking sapphire eyes, brimming with warmth.

Well, not at the moment. They’re currently flashing with warning.

Because I’m being a dick. An unreasonable dick who’s in shock and lashing out at the nearest person.

“Fuck. You,”

I say defiantly, staring him right in the eye, challenging him to follow through on his promise.

His mouth opens as if to say something, but all he does is exhale sharply.

I snicker.

“Thought so. Don’t worry. I’ll save you the hassle. You don’t have to fire me. I quit.”

He grinds his teeth.

“Don’t do something you’ll regret once you’ve had a chance to cool down.”

“I’m perfectly cool now, thank you very much.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“No. The mistake I made was not quitting the second you showed up.”

His eyes widen for a second before narrowing, and I can tell that my blow landed. Maybe a little too well. He clears his throat.

“Fine. If that’s how you really feel, I’m not going to beg. If you want to quit, then quit.”

The firmness in his tone sears through my skin and into my bones. The last thing I want is to leave the sanctuary, but I’ve dug myself into a hole I have no way of getting out of. I’m too proud, too angry, too frustrated at this whole shitty situation to think clearly and do the smart thing, which would be to back the fuck down.

My throat aches as I choke back tears. The thought of leaving this place and all the horses I love with all my heart crashes down on me with an unbearable force.

With watery eyes and a burn in my throat, I repeat, “I quit.”

“In that case, we’re done here.”

The sharpness of his words is betrayed by the sadness in his eyes. Is he feeling just as confused by everything as I am, or am I the only fucked-up one?

The emergency phone rings.

He doesn’t move to answer it, staring at me like he’s trying to see through me.

“You should probably get that,”

I say on the fourth ring.

He absently reaches for the phone on the bench.

“Silverstone Sanctuary. How can I help?”

I can’t hear what the caller is saying, but the panic in her voice is evident. Maverick makes a writing gesture with his hand. I have my phone out in seconds, open a new note, and type out what he’s saying.

“Maple Drive in Thornburn. Uh-huh. Back paddock. Close to the windmill. Last property on the street. Okay. Oh, you have everything we need to secure the horse? That’s great. I’ll be right there.”

He ends the call.

“Escaped horse,”

he tells me, striding to the parking lot.

“I’m coming with you.”

He slows down a fraction.

“Haven’t you quit?”

“It’s Friday. My quitting is effective as of Monday.”

A soft breath slips past his lips.

“Thanks, Jackson.”