Mia had to grin. Damn, she really liked Jackson’s sister. The girl was vibrant and outspoken, exuding the same charm as her older brother, but also a devilish energy that Mia suspected made Evie Ramsey a lot of fun to hang out with.
They went back downstairs, Evie yet again linking their arms on the way to the enormous country-style kitchen. Arlene was chopping onions on the huge cedar work island when they walked in, and she looked up with a smile.
“So what do you think of our humble abode?” the older woman asked.
“I love it,” Mia confessed. “You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Ramsey.”
“Oh, pshaw—call me Arlene,” Jackson’s mother said firmly.
“Okay. Arlene.”
“Thatta girl. Now come pull up a stool and keep me company while I dice. Kurt’s stolen my son away, so we have plenty of time for some good ol’ fashioned girl talk.”
Jackson had known he’d get a lecture from his father at some point, but he hadn’t expected it to happen within five minutes of his arrival. As he set down his and Mia’s bags on the porch, Kurt crossed his arms over the front of his blue-and-white Western shirt and gave him a stern look.
“Why don’t we go down to the barn, son?” It was voiced as a question, but was clearly a demand.
Jackson nodded. “All right.”
The two men walked side by side toward the main barn that stabled the dozen or so mares living on the ranch. The stallion barn stood a hundred yards away, but Jackson forced himself not to look at the big red structure. He hadn’t stepped foot inside it since that fateful morning, when his big brother had pummeled him with his fists and probably would’ve beat him to death if their father hadn’t intervened.
“It’s dang good to see you,” Kurt said gruffly. “Your mother and I miss you.”
His throat tightened. “I miss you too.”
“Yeah?” His dad cocked his head. “Sometimes I wonder.”
“Shit, Dad, you know I do.”
“Funny, ’cause you don’t seem inclined to come visit us.”
“You know why I can’t,” he said in a low voice.
“Can’t? Now that’s bull crap, son. You choose not to come home to see your family. No can’t about it.”
Jackson gritted his teeth. “You say that as if I’m missing out on a welcome parade or somethin’, but we both know there’s at least one person on this ranch who don’t wanna see me.”
His father sighed. “Your brother is a mule-headed fool. Always has been. I told you this once and I’m gonna say it again—you need to be the better man in this situation. Forgive him, Jack. It’s the only way our family will ever be whole again.”
“Forgive him?” he echoed incredulously. “For that to happen, Shane needs to actually apologize first. You know, for almost beatin’ me within an inch of my life? He never told me he was sorry, Dad. Not even once.”
“He is sorry,” Kurt said quietly. “You can see it on his face whenever y’all are in the same room.”
“That’s not good enough. I need to hear him say it.”
“Lord, how’d I end up with such a stubborn lot?”
Jackson rolled his eyes. “We got it from you, old man.”
The two men reached the barn’s big red double doors, but rather than go inside, Jackson’s father turned right on his heel. “C’mon, let’s head back. Your mama is clamoring to see you.”
Their walk could probably have been considered pointless, but Jackson knew his father had needed to say his piece away from prying eyes. On the way back to the house, they didn’t talk about anything of importance—Jackson simply chatted about his life in San Diego, while Kurt filled him in on what he’d missed on the ranch. The subject of Shane and Tiffany’s wedding didn’t come up at all, but the couple’s wedding photo was the first thing Jackson encountered when he strode into his childhood home. It hung proudly in the front hall, and he had to forcibly tear his gaze off the picture, refusing to let any emotions surface.
He hoped his mom and sister hadn’t been grilling Mia in his absence, but when he entered the kitchen, he discovered that Mia was holding her own. She and Arlene were chatting a mile a minute about gardening, but the animated conversation halted abruptly, because the second he walked in, his mother put down the knife in her hand and rushed over to hug him again.
“Sit,” she ordered, her soft brown eyes glimmering with joy and affection. “I want to know everythin’ you’ve been up to these last few years.”
He smiled. “You already know. We talk on the phone once a week.”
“Oh, is that right?” Her meaningful gaze shifted to Mia. “Because clearly you’ve been keepin’ a few secrets from your mama, young man.”
“I told you I was seein’ someone,” he protested.
“Mmm-hmm, but you didn’t tell me how utterly delightful she was.”
From her perch by the counter, Mia blushed, but she didn’t look put off by the compliment.
Chuckling, Jackson slid onto the stool next to Mia while his mom resumed her dicing. Neither Arlene nor Evie allowed the couple to help out with the cooking, so for the next hour they sat there while the two women puttered around the kitchen, the conversation flowing without a single pause or awkward silence. Jackson’s father didn’t say much—he was more of a listener than a talker—and eventually he excused himself so he could go feed the horses.