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She glanced at his jeans. They were a snug fit, but the apartment was adequate for her with two bedrooms, a living area and an efficient kitchen’s worth of charm. “It’s more than enough for me.”
Sammie wouldn’t show him the bedrooms but he took it upon himself to walk down the hallway and poke his head into both rooms anyway. Then, as she stood in the middle of the living room with the draft store plans in hand, he sauntered back over to her. “It has potential.”
“It’s a mess right now.” Boxes of her clothes cluttered the floor at her feet. Photo frames and a set of dishes were stacked haphazardly on the kitchen counter. “I had a few things shipped from back East, but I’m mostly starting from scratch.”
“You have a bed.”
“Necessity of life, isn’t it?”
“You got that right.” His blue eyes darkened as he looked at her, and Sammie reminded herself that Jackson was a player. Flirting and teasing women were as natural to him as breathing. He wasn’t a jerk about it either. He was a man who genuinely loved being with women. She couldn’t fault him his killer looks and compelling charm.
Don’t take him seriously, and you’ll do fine, Sammie.
He bent down to flip open one box lid and raised his brows. “And boots.”
She’d packed three large boxes of her own boots. “Another necessity of life.”
He grinned. “Let’s hope the women of Scottsale agree with you.”
“I’m counting on it.”
With a hand firmly on her back, Jackson led her toward the door. Before she locked up, Sammie glanced around at the textured walls and high arched doorways that accented the Southwestern flavor of the place and sighed.
“It’ll feel like home before you know it,” Jackson said, as if reading her mind.
This adventure was so new to her. She’d packed up her Boston apartment, leaving what was familiar to her completely behind. When she thought of it that way, shivers of apprehension rode up and down her spine. After all, she was an only child who’d lost her father and her business in the blink of an eye.
Now she fended off a full-fledged panic attack. She didn’t want Jackson to see her moment of weakness. She’d moved three thousand miles away to a city with no coastline. It was a place foreign to her in most respects. But then, she thought about her best friend, Callie, and the rest of the Worths. They were her family now, Jackson included, and that notion made the knots in her stomach loosen. She bucked up her courage, giving herself a mental pep talk. She could do this and she would be successful. She smiled at Jackson as she turned the key in the lock. “I think so, too.”
Jackson walked Sammie to her car, and juicy peaches sprang to mind. He figured since peach trees didn’t grow in the desert, the sweet fragrance had to be coming from Sammie. “You smell delicious.”
“It’s my hand lotion. I put some on while we were in the apartment. It’s kind of strong. If I’m making you hungry, I’m sorry.”
There was hunger, and then there was hunger. Jackson glanced at the boots that hugged her calves. Even in a pair of jeans, with no leg showing, she turned him on. It was a damn shame.
Sammie was off-limits.
“Good thing we’re going to lunch. I might have me some peach pie for dessert.”
And it was a good thing he’d begun thinking straight again. He should have never laid a hand on Sammie. He’d been through the reasons in his mind a hundred times and had finally come to the conclusion that it wasn’t only her boots that had appealed to him.
Right before she’d walked into that bar in Vegas, he’d learned that Blair Caulfield was coming back to Red Ridge. Beautiful, rich, deceitful Blair Caulfield, the girl he’d once loved, was on her way to her hometown to cause havoc in the guise of tending to her ailing Aunt Muriel.
Jackson wanted to think he was over her, but one minute he was on the phone hearing the news of her return from a close friend and the next minute he was finding solace in the arms of the unsuspecting Sammie Gold.
In a way, Sammie had been just what he’d needed that night. To make him forget Blair and the heartache she’d caused him.
By the time Sammie had thrown her arms around his neck and kissed him, it was all the encouragement he’d needed. And making love to Sammie had been hot. But his lust for her had shocked him back to his senses the following morning. He’d had to do the right thing and set some boundaries.
“You’re driving this time.” Sammie’s voice broke into his thoughts.
Before he could argue she climbed into the passenger seat and buckled up. She added, “I can get a better feel for the lay of the land this way. Without having to concentrate on the road.”
She had a point. Jackson accepted her decision and settled behind the wheel. Sammie had been through a lot lately and she was trying to cope with all the changes in her life. He couldn’t blame her for being gun-shy of driving in a town she didn’t know in a powerhouse of a new car.
He set the drafts in her lap and started the engine. At least driving would keep his eyes on the road and not on her. When she had driven the Navigator earlier, he’d had freedom enough to look his fill. She was cute, with a slender frame and a pleasant face dotted with a few freckles across the bridge of her nose that she tried to cover up with makeup. But she wasn’t even close to the kind of woman who usually attracted him. So why, he asked himself, was he drawn to her? “Do you like hot and spicy?” he asked.
Sammie stammered, “I, uh …” Then she turned in the seat to face him, her body at an angle and both brows digging into her forehead. “What exactly do you mean?”
Jackson grinned. He added innocence to her list of attributes. “Food, Sammie. I’m talking Cajun. There’s this great place just outside of town.”
“Oh.” She was so dang relieved she might have melted into the upholstery as she sank back down in her seat. “That sounds fine.”
It was refreshing to be with a guileless woman for a change, Jackson thought. Someone whose expression told you exactly what she was thinking. She wasn’t coy or pretentious. It was a rare thing.
An hour later, Jackson spread out Sammie’s drafts for Boot Barrage on the cleared restaurant table. They’d eaten chicken and rice and now sat beside each other sipping iced tea.
Sammie took a big gulp of hers. “Wow, my mouth’s on fire.”
“I thought you liked Cajun food.”
Sammie gave him a sheepish look. “I’ve never tried it before. I’m not into spicy.”
“Is that a fact,” Jackson remarked, not allowing his mind to go wicked. “Why’d you agree to it then?”
She stared into his eyes. “I figured this is my year for firsts.”
Her gaze darted to his mouth and lingered long enough to make his groin tighten. The sweet smell of peaches drifted to his nose again. “I mean … I don’t usually venture too far from my comfort zone,” she said.
“You don’t?”
“No. My tastes aren’t very adventurous.”
“Maybe you should change that.”
She shook her head and her short hair moved and then fell right back into place again. “There are enough changes in my life right now.”
Jackson swallowed the last of his tea. “Are we still talking food here?”
Sammie hesitated, then lifted tentative eyes his way. “Uh, just so you know, I’m not the kind of girl … who experiments with food … just because it’s available.”
No. She wasn’t talking about food. “I knew that about you.”
“Good, because I don’t think I’d try Cajun again … just for the record. Though, it’s pretty on the plate and all.”
Jackson hid a smile. They’d already decided this in Las Vegas. They had agreed not to sleep together again, but apparently Sammie had more to say on the subject. “Okay, no more Cajun food for you.”
She smiled with relief and Jackson pointed to the paper laid out on the table, returning to the business at hand. “Now, about your designs …”
The next few days flew by. Sammie was busier than she’d been in her entire life. She’d made calls to her private boot venders and haggled over prices, set up a whole new Excel spreadsheet for taking inventory, ordered window dressings for the shop and interviewed for part-time help. At night she’d unpack her belongings at her apartment, do laundry and make herself a salad before collapsing into bed.
She’d been in touch with Jackson every day. He didn’t disappoint on the business end of things. He wasn’t lying about helping her get the new enterprise off the ground. What they needed was a good start and Jackson knew some tricks of the trade. He’d stopped by her apartment once to check on her progress, and this morning he’d beaten her in getting to the shop. She saw his king-cab Ford truck as she pulled into the small parking lot behind Boot Barrage.
She opened the back door and walked in on him as he measured a wall with a thick chrome tape measure. His back was to her and he didn’t bother turning around. “Mornin’,” he said over his shoulder. “The crew will be here in a few minutes. Thought I’d speak with the contractor before he gets started in here.”
“Good morning,” she said quietly. She closed the door behind her and tried not to gape at Jackson. He wore a snug cotton T-shirt that hugged his shoulders and a pair of faded blue jeans tight enough for images to flash through her mind of how good he’d looked in the raw.
He also had a leather tool belt wrapped around his waist.
A tool belt.Really?
Sammie held back a sigh. Every time she saw him, she fell a little more in lust with him. But that was only because he was beautiful. Eye candy. A hunk.
“Okay, that’s great. I can’t wait until they get started on this place.”
Jackson grunted in agreement and then went back to jotting down figures on a clipboard. He had arranged for a desk and chair from one of his offices to be delivered the other day. She’d set up her laptop on it and had worked here whenever she could.
“You coming to Callie and Tagg’s for dinner tonight?” he asked, still concentrating on the figures he jotted down.
Her dear friend Callie had been patient with her. She’d invited her over every night this week, but Sammie had been too busy. She’d promised her that tonight would be the night—she’d missed her friend and they were both anxious to spend time together—but Sammie hadn’t known that Jackson was invited, too.
“Yes, I’m going.”
“No sense in both of us driving out there in separate cars,” he said, studying another wall he was measuring. “I’ll drive you to Red Ridge.”
“Oh, no. That’s not nec—”
Jackson turned to her and a jolt of new desire paraded through her stomach. He was every woman’s fantasy, a blond-haired, blue-eyed tool-belt-wearing hunk of a man. Sammie had always prided herself on not being a shallow female until she’d met Jackson Worth. He was in a class all by himself as far as she was concerned. But she’d reminded herself a hundred times that business and pleasure didn’t mix. Especially not for her.
Her creep of an ex-boyfriend, Allen Marksom, had driven that point home.
“Oh,” she said, quickly realizing her mistake. “Callie asked you to drive me there.”
“Carpooling saves the environment.”
“Callie worries about me too much.”
“She’s your friend.”
“But still, if you were only going on my account, you don’t—”
“Two things, Sammie,” he said in a serious tone. “I like spending time with my family. And I don’t argue with pregnant ladies.” He sent her a quick nod. “Just so you know.”
She nodded back. “Got it.”
When the crew showed up for work, she and Jackson went over the plans to make sure they were all on the same page. Excited, Sammie’s mental picture of Boot Barrage was finally coming to fruition.
Her boot boutique would be unique, not only because of the exquisite boots she’d be selling, but also because she’d give them her personal touch and a guarantee of repair, restoration and quality. She’d been given a lifetime’s worth of instruction by a high-end designer as to how to properly maintain and treat the boots to give them the longest life.
Each and every boot would come with the Gold Guarantee and that would be her selling point. Her own boots were testimony to personal care and longevity. She’d make sure her customers got the same level of quality.
“Once we get started you won’t be able to come in here,” the head contractor, Justin Cervantes, said. “Safety reasons.”
Jackson nodded. “We figured as much. Not a problem.”
“How long before we’ll be able to get back in, exactly?” Sammie asked.
Mr. Cervantes scanned the space, doing mental calculations. “We’ve got to texture the walls, build the shelving, put in the counters and paint. Mr. Worth wants it done quickly. If we work steady through the weekend, I’d say not until midweek. That’s as quick as we can do it.” He sent a solid look to Jackson. “I’ll be in touch every day.”
“Sounds good to me,” Jackson said.
His cell phone rang. He took a quick look at the screen and then excused himself to deal with the call.
Sammie finished the conversation with the contractor, thanking him and giving him her phone number also in case he had any questions about design. Exhilaration stirred in her belly. This was really happening. She’d have a new place, one that was infused with enough cash to give the establishment a good start. She was getting a second chance, doing something she loved to do. Back in Boston she’d had a little hole-in-the-wall boutique, hardly any space at all, yet she’d made a decent living and enjoyed some success. This space was three times the size. It would be luxurious and comfortable for her and her clients. She planned on spending most of her time here. Diving into her work with guns blazing would never be an issue.
When Jackson finished with his call, he motioned for Sammie to meet him in the back room. The space would serve as her office and a lounge for her employees, and behind that area a stockroom would be built to house the inventory.
“What’s up?” she said.
“That was my brother Clay. He’s inviting us to a little show they’re having at Penny’s Song tomorrow night. Since we’re both coming out to the ranch, he suggested that we stay with them for the weekend.”
Penny’s Song was a dude ranch on the Worth property designed for children recovering from illness. Sammie had been there once, when Callie had married Tagg. The charity helped provide children an easy way to acclimate back into society. Young Penny Martin, a local Red Ridge resident, had been the inspiration, and upon her death, all three Worth brothers had helped in starting up the foundation. The charity had touched the heart and soul of the entire town.
But the invitation to stay out at the ranch with Jackson brought a wave of fear to her heart. She’d hoped to keep as much distance from him as possible and it appeared that she was losing that battle.
A wealth of guilt glided through her mind. She hadn’t out and out lied to Callie about her time spent with Jackson in Las Vegas, but when they’d talked, she’d skirted the issue and hid the truth from her. Something she’d never done before. Just being in the same room with Jackson and Callie would fray her nerves. She wasn’t looking forward to it.
“I’m sure you’ve got plans for Saturday night.” Sammie could only hope.
Jackson shook his head and gave a nonchalant shrug. “Actually, I’m open.”
Great.
Why in heaven’s name didn’t he have a date or something?
Her cell phone rang this time. And she didn’t have to look at the screen to know it was Callie. Small-town life was like that, she was finding out, and news traveled fast, especially in a close-knit family. Sammie knew exactly what Callie would say.
“You’ll stay with us,” Callie said a few seconds into the conversation, proving Sammie right. “At our house, and Jackson will stay with Clay.”
“Callie, I love you dearly, but I don’t want to impose on you and Tagg.”
“You’re not. I’d love some female company up here.”
Tagg and Callie’s house was set at the base of the Red Ridge mountains on the site of the original Worth house built in the 1800s. Clay and his family lived on a bigger piece of land that supported the cattle, corrals and outer buildings. All of it was considered Worth property. Tagg raised horses, and Clay raised cattle. And Jackson was the dealmaker and entrepreneur of the family.
“You’ll stay the weekend. Come on … say you will. Please.”
“Okay,” Sammie said without pause. She couldn’t disappoint her best friend. She’d just have to find a way to deal with being around Jackson twenty-four-seven.
