Page 66 of The Rancher’s One and Only

He cleared his throat. “You’re more than that.”

“I hope I’m able to do the same for you. Even just a little bit.”

“You do it for me a lot.”

He would miss her when she left. But you couldn’t make someone stay with you. And the urge to try, the urge to shrink somebody so that they could fit into your world—that was the kind of thing that made his father into the man that he was.

And Jax would never be that man. So when it came time, he would let her go.

Because that was what he had to do.

Chapter Thirteen

She was excited about the Oregon Trail trek, and she packed accordingly for an overnight trip. When they assembled at the covered wagons, though, she realized that she hadn’t been adequately prepared for the experience. It was over-the-top amazing. Absolutely incredible work. She had been annoying to him when they had first talked about it, and she had made judgments about their authenticity, but honestly, it was amazing.

Just amazing.

The team of horses linked up to the wagon was incredible, and Rowdy was going to drive it. Jessica was there, ready to sit up front with him, and Dakota was going to be—as he himself had put it—third wheeling it in the back.

“This is truly amazing,” she said. She had only ever seen Conestoga wagons reduced in scale and displayed in museums, or in history books. So this was very impressive.

“Yeah, I built it,” Dakota said.

“Oh, that’s right. Jax mentioned that you’re an artist.”

“It’s something to do. I like working with my hands.”

“He’s modest, and he doesn’t like getting into the emotional aspect of it,” Rowdy said.

“Oh. Why not?”

“Don’t you know emotions are bad for you?” Dakota asked.

“Well, I can certainly imagine that they are. Or rather, I feel like I probably agree to an extent.”

“But only to an extent.”

“Well, I think it’s really fascinating that you got into art. You know, given your background.”

“Oh no,” he said. “They love to show underprivileged kids the arts.”

“Who is ‘they’?”

“Well-meaning rich people,” Dakota said. “They especially like you when you’re talented.”

Jax snorted. “Careful. You’re starting to sound a little bit bitter.”

“Oh no. Heaven permitted. I would hate that.”

“Somehow I doubt it.”

“Yeah. Well. You are a doubter. A notorious hater.”

“Professionally.”

She enjoyed the banter between them as they took the wagon out to the painted hills portion of the property. Where they set up a vast table, and served the most glorious lunch. There was skillet cornbread, baked beans and lean game meat. They had nice places to sit, which wasn’t strictly historically accurate, but since it was comfortable, she didn’t complain.

Jessica sat next to her, and smiled. “So, what do you think?”