Still, she peered over at Jackson Traub again, just to see if he was looking.
He wasn’t.
“Laila?” Cade asked.
He sounded offended that she’d mentally wandered from the conversation. In fact, he was looking more intense than ever—so much so that Laila sank into her chair, wishing fervently, once again, for that hole in the ceiling to appear, suck her up and take her away from all the truths Cade was making her face tonight.
Jackson was a patient man.
He was also mildly perceptive, if he did say so himself, and he knew when a woman—even a cool beauty queen like Laila Cates—was aware of his presence.
As he nursed his second whiskey, he nodded to the man at the end of the bar, an acquaintance Jackson had met during his short time here. Woody Paulson, the manager of LipSmackin’ Ribs, a joint that didn’t so much compete with the rib restaurant of Jackson’s cousin, DJ, as stay in its shadow.
Woody nodded back to Jackson, but the interaction didn’t take his mind off Laila. He wondered if she was still watching him, yet he refrained from taking a peek. Instead, he imagined her in that white evening gown, the first time he’d seen the infamous Thunder Canyon beauty in person, on the stage, her long, wavy blond hair silky under the crown she wore, her blue eyes bright, her skin smooth and pale as cream.
A challenge if he ever met one.
A woman he wanted with every beat of his pulse.
He hadn’t initially come to Thunder Canyon for a good time, though. Months ago, it’d been his brother Corey’s wedding that had brought him here, and Jackson had stayed just long enough to throw a few punches during the reception before returning to his gentleman’s ranch in Midland, Texas, then back to work for the family oil business, where he spent the weekdays in his city penthouse.
During the past few months, he’d been thinking hard about the mess he’d created up here in Montana during Corey’s nuptials. At first, Jackson had chalked it all up to just being a bad day, and he’d had a few too many champagnes as well as a few too many thoughts about how his brothers seemed to be falling prey to marriage, an institution that Jackson had never cottoned to.
So he’d spoken his mind at the reception, saying that matrimony was a great way to ruin a relationship. And, as if that wasn’t awful enough, he’d gone on to pretty much call his two married brothers wusses.
He’d said that he would never change his life for a woman, and he’d damn well meant it.
Needless to say, the brothers Traub hadn’t taken kindly to his opinions, and Jackson had left Thunder Canyon with his fists and face bruised, knowing that he’d gone too far. But he’d tried his best during his time away to think on how he was going to make it up to his family.
Not only that—he’d really taken a good look at what he had or hadn’t accomplished during his thirty-four years here on earth, and he didn’t like the view much at all.
That’s why, when his older brother Ethan stepped up his attempts to explore oil shale extraction opportunities, Jackson saw an opportunity not only to get into his family’s good graces again, but…
Hell. In spite of his shortcomings, he loved his family more than anything, and he just wanted to make them see that he wasn’t a loser who would always start fistfights at weddings. The superficial guy who could be so much more than the company “schmoozer” who closed deals and wooed clients.
So here he was, back in Thunder Canyon, convinced that he could finally put what brains he had to some use in getting this new branch of Traub Oil Industries started. He’d actually persuaded his brother, Ethan, that he could head up community outreach and education, since Traub Oil Montana was exploring new, more environmentally friendly ways of extraction at the Bakken Shale; he would also be working with the ranchers and landowners from whom the company had bought or leased rights.
Even though Jackson wasn’t here for the long run, he was going to make his time in Thunder Canyon matter, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t use a little entertainment while he was around… .
He finally took a sidelong glance at Laila Cates, but she’d gone back to her conversation with Cade Pritchett, whom Jackson only knew because of his outburst at the pageant. Honestly, Jackson had felt for the man after he’d shouted out that proposal. In fact, after Cade’s brother had come to his rescue with another marriage offer to Laila, Jackson had impulsively broken in with his own. It wasn’t so much for Cade’s sake as Laila’s because, even under her unruffled façade, Jackson had sensed how vexed Laila had seemed on that stage, and if there was one thing Jackson was, it was a sucker for a woman, especially one who seemed embarrassed that her big night had been shot to hell by an unexpected profession of devotion.
He was pretty sure that someone like Laila was used to men falling all over her, although not in such a mortifyingly public way.
And he wasn’t about to be like the other guys.
At present, as Laila sat there looking as uncomfortable as all get out once again, Jackson could tell she was in another tight spot, that here was a woman who was just about telepathically asking anyone in the room to interrupt the conversation she was having.
Now it wasn’t as if Jackson would’ve done what he did next if Laila hadn’t been providing a clear opening for him. If she was having a grand old time with her date, he would’ve stayed a mile away from her.
But being the woman-loving sucker he was, he turned from the bar, getting an even better look at her. His heartbeat picked up.
She was dressed as if she’d just come from work, in a stylish dark gray pinstriped suit, and her wavy mass of blond hair—shiny and silky enough to make his fingers itch to touch it—was swept up in a style that left some strands framing her face.
And…that face.
It belonged to a beauty queen, all right. High cheekbones, full red lips, long black lashes, delicate eyebrows and all.
Now it was more than his heart that was thudding.
To rescue her again or not to rescue her?
There wasn’t much of a choice, and he left his whiskey glass at the bar as he crossed the floor.
She seemed to know he was coming before he even got there, and that did something to him—riled him up inside, stretched a string of lit firecrackers through him.
“Well,” he said as she parted her lips, as if to utter something before he beat her to it. “If it isn’t my bride-to-be.”
Okay, there it was. If she gave any indication that he was intruding, he would go.
He even gave her another chance to shoo him off. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything—”
Cade and Laila spoke at the same time.
“You are,” the man said.
“You’re not,” she said.
Jackson had sure called it correctly. And when Laila nudged a chair away from the table with her foot, she only emphasized the point.
Had Cade proposed again to this woman who’d announced to the whole town that she Never. Wanted. To. Get. Married?
Was that why she looked like a deer caught in the headlights?
Cade had seen her pushing out the chair, too, but Jackson only tipped his hat to them both, then took a seat, signaling to a waitress who came right over, all smiles.
“What can I do you for?” she asked.
“A round of beers,” Jackson said. “On my tab.”
When she scuttled off, she left a view of the bar, and Jackson couldn’t help but notice that many a male gaze was turned his way, obviously envious that he was sitting at Laila’s