Page 11 of Sweet Temptation (Honeysuckle, Texas #3)

A day of hunching over student papers had Garret’s shoulders aching deep in his bones.

Seventh graders weren’t exactly known for their penmanship, and after reading thirty essays on the Civil War, his eyes burned almost as much as his back.

A hot shower and maybe ten minutes of quiet before dinner would do the trick.

The house was unusually quiet. Dropping his satchel by the door, he called out, “Mom?”

“In here,” his mother’s voice carried from the kitchen. She was elbow deep in bread dough. “How was school?”

“The usual.” He glanced around the kitchen. “Where’s Jackie?”

“Out in the barn with Clint.”

“Clint?” Something uncomfortable settled in Garret’s chest.

“He’s showing her how to muck stalls.” Eyes twinkling with amusement, his mother straightened, her gaze locking with his.

“Clint was in here giving me an update on the wild horses’ movements, and how the fence lines have been holding up.

When he said he’d be off to muck the stalls, she offered to help. ”

“She did?” That should have surprised him, and yet, somehow, it didn’t.

“I asked her if she knew what it meant, and had she ever done it.” His mom chuckled. “I’ll tell you something. For a city girl, she’s got gumption.”

Considering she was willing to take him on for a year, all to save a stranger’s family ranch, gumption might be the perfect word to describe Jacqueline Drake.

Kissing his mom on the cheek, he crossed the yard, making his way to the barn.

He could hear laughter before he even reached the wide doors—Jackie’s bright giggle followed by Clint’s deeper chuckle.

The sound made something twist in his gut.

Pulling open the door, he squinted into the dimmer interior. Jackie stood in the center aisle, a pitchfork in hand, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. Wisps had escaped to frame her face. It was a nice face.

Clint leaned against a stall door, one elbow resting on, or perhaps balancing, his own pitch fork.

Objectively, Garret knew Clint was good-looking in that weathered cowboy way.

The lone ranch hand probably looked much younger than his actual years.

For a second Garret contemplated a number, settling on late forties, give or take half a dozen.

Much older than Jackie, but not that much older.

It shouldn’t have bothered him, except, it did.

“How’s it going?” Garret stepped into the barn.

“Garret! I didn’t hear you come in.” A smile firmly intact, she gestured proudly to a half-cleaned stall. “I’m learning to muck.”

“So I see.” He couldn’t help returning her smile, the knot in his chest loosening at her obvious delight.

Clint straightened, then glanced at his watch. “Think I’ve got enough daylight left to check some more fence line.” He tipped his hat to Jackie. “You’re doing fine work, Miss Jackie. Garret can show you how to lay down fresh bedding.”

“Thanks for the lesson,” Jackie called to the ranch hand’s retreating back.

As soon as Clint was gone, Garret moved closer, taking in the sight of Jackie in dusty jeans and one of his sister’s old flannel shirts, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. “So, mucking stalls, huh?”

“Don’t laugh.” She teasingly pointed the pitchfork at him. “It’s harder than it looks.”

“I’m not laughing.” Though he couldn’t quite suppress his smile. “I’m impressed. Most people’s idea of getting to know ranch life involves horses and sunsets, not horse manure.”

“Go big or go home,” she quipped, then wrinkled her nose. “Though I’ll admit, the smell takes some getting used to.”

“You never really get used to it.” Garret reached for the pitchfork Clint had hung on the wall. “But you do stop noticing after a while.”

They worked side by side, finishing the stall she’d started.

Garret showed her how to spread fresh straw, explaining why some parts needed more bedding than others.

The work was familiar and oddly companionable, their conversation flowing easily between them.

Why was it that hard work could seem like fun with a woman at your side? No, not any woman. Jackie.

“So how was school today?” Her back to him, Jackie spread straw in the corner.

“Long. Parent-teacher conferences are coming up, so everyone’s on edge.” He gathered another armful of straw. “Tommy Fisher tried to argue that the Confederacy secretly won the Civil War.”

“Bold strategy,” she laughed. “What’d you tell him?”

“That his secret historical knowledge would be more convincing if he could spell Confederacy correctly.”

She had to admit, this guy’s easy-going manner, and casual sense of humor, could make any day brighter. Heaven knew, he’d certainly managed to turn her world around.

Surveying their finished work, she promptly declared, “Perfect.” Honestly, she couldn’t remember being more proud of an accomplishment in her life. Brushing straw from her hands, she turned and caught Garret watching her. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“Just a little…” Garret reached out, brushing a piece of straw from her cheek. His fingers lingered a moment too long, and yet, not long enough.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

A twinkle appeared in his eyes. He flashed her a look that had her taking a step back.

Keeping an eye on him, she watched a smile tilt north to match the sparkle in his eyes as he slowly reached down and grabbing fistfuls of loose straw, took a single step closer and dropped every strand on her head.

“Hey!” she gasped, straw raining down around her face.

“Just helping you get the full ranch experience,” his words coming through a muffled laugh.

“Oh?” Setting the pitch fork aside, she shoved her sleeves a little higher. “Game on, cowboy.” She scooped up her own handful and flung it at him, hitting him square in the chest.

What followed was nothing short of warfare—straw flying in all directions, laughter bouncing off the barn walls as they chased each other around the stalls.

Jackie ducked behind a support beam, and Garret feinted left before circling right, catching her by surprise.

She squealed as he dumped another handful of straw over her head, then stumbled backward, losing her balance.

His arm shot out, catching her around the waist, pulling her against him to keep her from falling.

Suddenly they were very close, both breathing hard, bits of straw clinging to their clothes and hair. Her hands resting against his chest where she’d braced herself, she was suddenly all too aware of his arm still around her waist, and the strength of the muscled wall under her fingertips.

“Hi.” Her voice came out so softly, she wasn’t sure she’d actually heard it. Dang, did this man have gorgeous eyes.

“Hi.” The single word came out rough and gravely, and for a long moment, neither of them moved.

A horse whinnied from a nearby stall, and whatever spell had them frozen in each other’s space, broke.

Quickly, she stepped back, brushing straw from her shirt, praying her face didn’t betray the heat she felt flushing her cheeks. Feeling surprisingly awkward, she vaguely waved in the direction of the house. “I should, um, probably clean up before dinner.”

“Yeah, me too.” He ran a hand through his hair to dislodge several pieces of straw. “Mom will have a fit if we track all this into the house.”

She was oddly overcome with an urge to reach out and help him. To run her fingers through that thick dark hair. Suddenly, visions of soon sharing a room with him flickered in her mind. What she needed was more distance between them and took another large step in retreat.

They walked back together, a new awareness humming between them. Just before they reached the porch, Jackie glanced at him, amusement teasing her lips. “For the record,” her smile widened, “I’m pretty sure I won that round.”

“Only because I let you.” Garret laughed. The tension dissipating, he took hold of her hand and squeezed it tightly. “Time to get this show on the road.”

And wasn’t that just a darn shame.

The moment the two of them crossed the threshold into the kitchen, the hum of chatting voices slowed.

Making sure his mother had seen their clasped hands, Garret regretfully let go of his link with Jackie and followed her inside.

What he hadn’t expected was the sudden bustle of activity as first Jillian slung a dish rag over the back of a chair and announced, “I have some ideas for new candle scents. I think I’m going to head to my room and work on it before supper.

” Then Rachel followed with, “I’ve got some files I need to update,” quickly disappearing to her room.

Next thing he knew, Carson and Jess were dragging Jackie into the living room to watch some special on PBS that couldn’t be missed.

He was pretty sure neither his brother nor the man’s wife could have cared less about PBS, but here he was, alone with his mother in the kitchen. Recognizing what the family had done, no time like the present to start the tumbleweed blowing on the upcoming marriage charade.

Her breadmaking done, and the loaves in the oven filling the house with delicious aromas that would make any man drool, Alice Sweet was now peeling potatoes.

“Can I help?”

She cocked her head and closed one eye while staring at him, then shrugged. “Never can have too much help in the kitchen.”

Standing at her side, he began working on the first potato, the peels falling onto the newspaper covered counter. “I’ve been thinking.”

His mom continued to peel the potatoes without looking at him.

“Did Dad court you?”

Her hand froze, and then a slow smile bloomed. “Some might call it that.”

“Why?”

She returned to peeling. “According to your father, he decided he wanted to marry me the first time he laid eyes on me. But he had the good sense to realize if he’d proposed that same day, I’d have suggested the men in white coats come and take him away.”

Garret nodded. Made sense to him. Though right about now, a few people might suggest the men in white coats come take him away for what he was planning. “Dad always told us that when you know you know, but he never said what he did to win you over.”

Dropping a peeled potato in a pot of water, his mother reached for another. “Well, the day after we met, he sent me a dozen roses and all he did was sign it, ‘with admiration, Charlie’.”

“That sounds kind of lame.” He hadn’t meant to criticize his dad, but surely the guy could have been more creative.

“It was perfect. Anything more and I’d have thought him a player.”

“Hmm. Then what?”

“Every day it was a little something more. Somehow he found out that I loved Nora Roberts books and he sent me her latest release. Then another day it was a bouquet of balloons.”

“Balloons? Isn’t that rather childish?”

His mom’s smile brightened like the sun. “It was endearing like your father. By the end of the week when he called to ask me to join him for dinner, I would have joined him on a trip to the moon if he’d asked.”

“Really?”

“Really. Of course, y’all know your dad and I only dated for three months before we got married.”

It might be a sign of a bad son, but Garret actually had forgotten that part of their parents’ romance.

“You, uh, thinking about courting someone?” his mother didn’t look up, just kept peeling the potatoes.

“Mm hm.”

Her head bobbed. “Wouldn’t be Jackie in the other room, would it?”

It was his turn to nod.

With a shrug, his mom turned to face him, waving the peeler in his face. “Follow your heart and you can’t go wrong.”

This time, his cheeks tugged a smile out of him and potato in one hand and peeler in the other; he flung his arms around her. “Thanks, Mom.”

Mission accomplished. He had her blessing to court Jackie. He felt like throwing a fist pump in the air, and then it hit him, none of this was real—and wasn’t that just a bloody shame.