Sometimes When We Kiss. Linda Goodnight
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as he hated to admit it, he admired that. Almost as much as he admired her round little backside in a pair of tight jeans.
Her voice and his own common sense yanked him back into the conversation. Better not let Shannon catch him eyeing her behind.
“That’s Granddad. He doesn’t take orders well from anyone.”
Like his granddaughter, Jackson thought. He shoved off the wall and moved up beside her. “Is he going to need surgery?”
The doctor looked from Shannon to the dark cowboy, her expression questioning.
“This is Jackson Kane,” Shannon said. “Our…He works for my grandfather and me.”
She’d finally admitted he had the job, but Jackson felt no victory in her saying so. If Gus couldn’t carry on as always, she’d be stuck with her new hired hand whether she liked the idea or not. He’d have to deal with her reluctance if his own dreams were to come true.
“Not right now. And if he will do the things I tell him, maybe never. With the right medications we may be able to clear out the blockage or at least part of it. But he needs to make some significant lifestyle changes.”
Jackson knew that wouldn’t set well with a man like Gus, and from the way Shannon fidgeted she knew it, too.
“How can we help?” He didn’t know why he felt compelled to see Shannon through this. Her family, her grandfather was not his business. But the anxiety around Shannon’s mouth gave him the most irrational desire to kiss away her troubles and tell her everything would be all right. Must be a flashback to the good times they’d had when they were randy teenagers.
With a concerted effort, he drew his attention away from Shannon’s mouth and back to the doctor.
The doctor replaced her glasses. “How does your grandfather handle his stress?”
“Handle it?” Shannon huffed. “He doesn’t. He keeps everything bottled up inside so I won’t worry about it.”
Jackson could have told them that. Holding trouble inside was the cowboy way. Although lots of men blew off steam by getting drunk on Saturday night or picking a barroom fight, Gus wasn’t the type. Maybe he had been in his younger days, but not now, not even ten years ago.
“I thought you might say that. While caused by the blockage, his blood-pressure problem is exacerbated by the stress,” said the tiny doctor. “You need to do everything possible to eliminate any areas of tension in his life.”
Shannon frowned, a cute little pucker between her eyes that gave Jackson the strangest desire to slip an arm around her waist and pull her close.
“That is not going to be easy.” She gnawed on her full bottom lip and danged if he didn’t start staring at her mouth again.
“No, I don’t expect it will be. But if Mr. Wyoming is to regain optimal health, he must reduce stress and control his blood pressure. If he behaves himself, he could very well beat this thing. Otherwise, he is looking at some serious complications in the not-too-distant future.”
Shannon swallowed hard, her face blanching. “I can’t let anything happen to my granddad.”
“Nothing’s going to happen to Gus,” Jackson said. “We’ll see to it.”
At his reassurance, Shannon relaxed a little and got that determined jut to her chin. “Okay. You’re right. We are going to get him well. I can handle the business side of the ranch, keep him from seeing any financial problems.” She turned to Jackson. “Jackson, don’t tell Granddad about any problems with the horses or their owners. Okay?”
Lying to a man he respected was not what Jackson had in mind. A man who spent his life working on a ranch, burning his muscles into exhaustion wouldn’t take kindly to two women plotting his retirement to a rockin’ chair by hiding things from him. And if Gus could hear this conversation, he would be one unhappy cowboy.
“Gus’s nobody’s fool.”
“I’d be the first to agree with that. But I don’t want to lose him either. For the sake of his health, we absolutely have to keep him relaxed. So gloss over any problems, only tell him the good things.” She placed a hand on his arm and his pulse rate kicked like a young mule. “Please, Jackson. I need your help.”
When she looked so worried like that, her blue eyes threatening a rainstorm, he was helpless to argue.
“I thought you wanted to fire me.”
She crossed her arms, an action that pushed the front of her tank top up and out. A man could totally lose his concentration at such a sight.
“Don’t rub it in.”
A devilish impulse made him tease. “Admit you’re glad I’m here, and I won’t.”
The good doctor, whom Jackson had completely forgotten, cleared her throat. “If you two will excuse me, I have rounds to make. We’ll talk again before Mr. Wyoming is discharged.”
She bustled away, pager beeping at her waist, nurses armed with charts following her down the long white corridor.
“Seems like a good doctor.”
“She’s terribly overworked, but yes, I trust her.” Wearily she pushed her hair behind one ear. “If Dr. Torrence says Granddad will get well faster if he eats right and isn’t stressed, then I have to find ways to keep him content.”
“We.”
“Pardon?”
“Didn’t you just admit you need my help?”
Her eyes lit up and two parentheses appeared around her full, kissable lips. “You win. I’ll take your offer of help.”
“Wait, I wasn’t finished.” He couldn’t resist the urge to goad.
She cocked an eyebrow. “Well?”
“Admit you’re glad I’m here.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, Jackson. I’m glad you’re here. Are you happy now?”
“A little insincere, but it will do.”
Jackson had the sudden thought that he might be in trouble. He didn’t know why he cared, but he wanted her to want him here. And that worried him more than a little.
A few minutes later, Shannon headed to the coronary care unit to see her granddad. Jackson, bless him, made noises about phoning his aunt, but she recognized the effort to give her time alone with her grandfather. Now she wished he’d come along; she needed a referee.
“I wouldn’t mind dying so much if you was settled.” Propped up at a forty-five-degree angle, Granddad had tossed off the oxygen mask the minute she’d walked in. Though he sounded a bit winded, his will hadn’t weakened at all.
How was she supposed to keep him calm when he had such a one-track mind? “I am settled, Granddad. And you are not going to die.”
“Everybody dies, little girl. Even cranky old mavericks like me.” He shifted sideways in the bed, looking old and withered beneath the stark white sheets. “But don’t go changing the subject on me. I ain’t talkin’ about me. I’m talkin’ about you and this problem you have with finding a man and settling down.”
“I have everything in the world I want or need including a good man—you.”
He waved a hand in impatience, dismissing her statement as nonsense. “That ain’t what I mean and you know it. You need a husband, but ever time a prospect comes along, you lope off like a green-broke colt.”
“Men don’t interest me that much.”
“A few of ’em interested you enough to get engaged.” He screwed up his brow in thought. “How many fellers have you run off? I’ve lost count.”
He made her sound like one of those Hollywood types