to him when she didn’t have to be, taking him in after his father had taken off. Heaven knew his own father never felt anything for him, neither affection nor a sense of responsibility.
Yet somehow Sylvia had, and in return he had treated her shamefully, putting her through hell before he finally was forced to get his act together, which he did, thanks to Sam.
She was gone now, but remembering her made him more considerate of the people who brought their troubled teens to him to be, in effect, “fixed.”
“Okay, everything looks in order,” he told Ryan’s sister, glancing through the forms quickly. “Let me take you on that tour of the bunkhouse to set your mind at ease,” he offered.
“I’d like that,” she told him. She wanted to see the bunkhouse and felt that since he was the one in charge of the ranch and its program, he would be the best one to conduct the tour.
And if something turned out to be wrong in her eyes, he was the one to be held accountable.
Debi got up and immediately paled. She’d risen a little too quickly from her seat. As a result, she immediately felt a little light-headed and dizzy. Trying to anchor herself down, she swayed ever so slightly. Panicked, she made a grab for the first thing her hand came in contact with to steady herself.
It turned out to be the cowboy standing next to her.
Jackson seemed to react automatically. His free arm went around her, holding her in place. Thanks to capricious logistics, that place turned out to be against his chest.
The light-headedness left as quickly as it had appeared.
The air in her lungs went along with it as it whooshed out the second she found herself all but flush against the cowboy’s chest and torso.
Their eyes met and held for an eternal second—and then Jackson loosened his hold on her as he asked, “Are you all right?”
Yes!
No!
I don’t know.
All three responses took a turn flashing through her brain as the rest of her tried to figure out just what had happened here.
Bit by bit, what transpired—and why—came back to her in tiny flashes. “Sorry, I got a little dizzy,” she apologized. Dropping her line of vision back to the floor, she murmured, “I think I got up too fast.” Looking at the arm she had grabbed, she realized that she must have dug her nails into his forearm. There were four deep crescents in his skin. “Oh, God, I’m sorry.” She didn’t need confirmation that she had done that. She knew.
“No harm done,” he told her good-naturedly. Jackson took a step back from her slowly, watching her for any signs that she was going to faint. “We can stay here a little longer if you like.”
“No, that’s all right. I’d like to see the bunkhouse before your...ranch hands come back to use it.”
The bunkhouse, for the most part, was used for sleeping and winding down in the evening after a particularly long, hard day filled with chores.
“The day’s still young,” he replied. “We have plenty of time.” As he spoke, he studied her more closely. She looked exhausted, as well as a little disconnected. “Did you drive here?” he asked.
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