Both Colton and Storm answered yes, so Jackson moved over to the sofa where Storm was sitting, pulled a map of Restoration Ranch out of his back pocket, and unfolded it until it covered the coffee table he was leaning over.
Colton sat in a recliner adjacent to the sofa. “It’s not polite to answer a question with a question. I asked you about your time with the boss lady.”
Jackson ran a hand over his close-cropped dark curls and scratched his head. “Date? It was more like an exercise in frustration. I don’t understand how someone with all those fancy degrees can be so uneducated about safety. This ranch is basically a series of open gates for anyone who wants to trespass.”
“What we looking at, Jackson?” Storm asked.
“Too much access.” Jackson sat on the couch, the agitation over his discovery still resting between his tense shoulders. “Most of the perimeter has an expansive wooded area that pretty much keeps it safe from the outside.” He tapped the three sections he’d marked with bright-red ink with his finger. “But these three spots are a real problem.”
Colton leaned in to get a better look at the map. “They don’t look all that close to each other either.”
“That’s part of the problem. There’s three of us, and these three access points are miles and miles apart. There’s no way we can keep this under control without some surveillance equipment. I’m not simply talking about something we can use to watch suspects. There’s literally no security on this property at all. Who lives like that?”
Storm shifted on the sofa. “There are still people who believe there’s no crime in the South, no need to lock their doors at night. We know better.”
Jackson had seen too much ugliness in these parts to trust the good nature of people so completely. He wasn’t paranoid. He didn’t see threats everywhere he turned, but he had sense enough to take basic precautions out here in these hills. He didn’t understand why Aja hadn’t.
“I’m on my way back to the main house to figure out some solutions to this. Until we can get something set up, we will have to do security rounds ourselves. We’ll each take turns on watch out there at night until I can come up with a better solution. Hopefully Ms. Everett will be agreeable to whatever I propose.”
Colton belted a hearty whip of laughter into the air. “I don’t see the lady rancher being agreeable to too much of anything when it comes to you. You seem to know exactly what to say to insert your foot in your mouth when talking to her.”
Jackson couldn’t deny it. “Since you’ve got jokes, Colt, you’ll be first up for guard duty tonight. Better get your nap in now. Your shift starts at zero hundred. You can report back to the main house at oh six hundred.”
Colton’s hard blue eyes sparked with fire and Jackson smirked in satisfaction. They might have been friends for years, but no one knew how to piss Colton off better than Jackson. A fact he was most proud of now.
He folded the map back up and handed it to Colton. “I’ve got an extra one in my truck. I’ll see you two tomorrow.”
* * *
Aja checked on the pot roast in the oven. When she placed the large roasting pan on top of the range, she questioned her sanity for making such a massive roast. Sure, Jackson was tall, broad, and built like a lumberjack. But that didn’t mean he ate like one too.
She picked up a serving spoon and basted the brown specimen of roasted perfection with a healthy amount of drippings from the pan. “Too late to worry about the portions now. Whatever we don’t finish tonight, I’ll serve as leftovers for lunch tomorrow.”
“Aja, I wanted to talk to you about—”
She turned toward Jackson as he stepped into the kitchen from the back door. He closed his eyes and inhaled a long, deep breath through his nose. “God in heaven, that smells good. What is it?”
She was too busy staring at the hungry need etched into his face to answer him immediately. But when he called her name, she quickly snapped out of the brief fog. “Pot roast, mashed potatoes, and Aunt Jo’s honey carrots.”
His approval shone in the wide smile that graced his full lips. “Do I have time to wash up before dinner?”
“Yeah, the roast needs to rest for a few minutes before it’s served. You’ve got plenty of time.” She turned back to basting the roast with a vengeance, hoping her fixation would keep her from thinking about the titillating things Jackson could do with soap, water, and a washcloth upstairs in the shower.
She waited until she heard his footsteps above her head in his bedroom to scold herself. “What the hell is wrong with you? He’s not the first good-looking man you’ve ever eaten a meal with.” She’d spent a good portion of her adulthood around attractive, wealthy, powerful men who wore tailored clothes that fit their carved bodies with precision. Why did a Texas Ranger with dusty jeans and boots make her mouth water and her mind wander to places it had no business going?
Too afraid of where her own line of questioning would lead, she took the coward’s way out and set the table instead.
When she was done, she turned around to rinse her hands in the sink as the loud creak of the back stairs filled the air, signaling Jackson’s descent. “You can get started while I slice up the rest of the roast for leftovers.”
“You spent all this time cooking, and you’re not even going to eat while the food is hot? That doesn’t seem fair.”
She turned around to answer him, but again, her words wouldn’t flow. He stood in between two chairs at the counter, his chest covered in a fitted black cotton T-shirt. She wasn’t certain if it was designed to stretch so tightly across the expanse of his upper body or purely a result of Jackson stuffing all that hard, corded muscle under the fabric. Whichever the case, he looked tastier than the meal she’d prepared. If there were anything that was unfair, it was the temptation the image of this man covered in simple cotton stoked inside her.
“Aja, please do that later. Eat with me?”
She watched him pull out the chair next to him and pat the back, motioning for her to sit.
Suspicion filled her senses like bad cologne at a mall perfume shop. Her eyes narrowed into small slits, and she folded her arms as she glared at him. Maybe he had a get-into-your-enemy’s-good-graces plan too.
