Jackson had grinned, taking her in his arms and touching his forehead to hers. “Maybe because those are all of the things I love about you. It’s that fire in you, the way you always speak your mind and have zero tolerance for bullshit that attracted me to you in the first place. You’re honest and passionate and you feel so damned much all the time. How could anyone not be attracted to a woman like that? Yeah, you’ll never be any sort of domestic goddess, or a fashionista, and I say thank God for both of those things. I’m not interested in being with a Stepford Wife or worse, someone like my sisters-in-law. I love you for the unique person you are, Scarlett, and for how strong you are after everything you’ve been through in your life. And, if I’m being really honest, the sex is beyond belief. No way can I let you slip through my fingers.”
After she’d kicked him – hard - in the shins, then chuckled gleefully at his shout of pain, she’d reluctantly agreed to at least consider his marriage proposal. By his estimations, though, it had taken several more months and a lot more persuasion before she’d finally said yes.
Her phone pinged with an incoming text and she quickly read it over, shoveling potato salad down her throat at the same time.
“It’s from Hannah,” she told her husband with a smile. “She’s just checking on the weather forecast next week. I told her it’s rain with a chance of clouds.”
Jackson grinned. “You didn’t even have to check the official report for that. This time of year you can count on it raining almost every day.”
“Complaining? Missing those hundred degree plus days down in the desert?”
“God, no.” He shuddered. “You know I love it up here, Scarlett. I love the weather, all the trees and lakes and not having to live in air conditioning most of the year. I’ll admit to missing my family - at least some of them - but I wouldn’t trade the life we’ve made for ourselves up here for anything in the world.”
She beamed at him. “Me, too. And we almost convinced Hannah to attend college up here. But attending her favorite uncle’s alma mater will be the next best thing.”
Hannah, who was now a happy, healthy, fully in remission high school senior, would be graduating in less than two months and starting college in the fall - a goal that had once seemed nearly unattainable. There had, of course, been the expected pressure from Barton, Laura, and others in the family to attend the University of Arizona. For Barton it had meant carrying on the family tradition that thus far only Jackson had defied, while for Laura it was the reassurance of having her only child close by.
But Hannah had once again proven to be her own person by insisting on visiting several other colleges besides ones in her home state. She’d shocked and angered her parents and grandfather by seriously considering both the University of Oregon and Scarlett’s alma mater of UC Berkeley. In the end, however, the beaches and warm weather in southern California had won her over and she’d chosen to follow in Jackson’s footsteps by attending UCLA.
In the meanwhile, she was going to spend her Spring Break with Jackson and Scarlett, a visit they were all looking forward to - in spite of the fact that Hannah was determined to drag Scarlett along with her to look for prom dresses.
Scarlett shuddered at the idea. “Why in hell she wants me along is beyond my comprehension. I mean, seriously, Jackson. She has her mother and grandmother and two fashion obsessed aunts plus all of her girly girlfriends. Why pick me?”
“Because,” replied Jackson gently, “she knows you’re the only one who’ll be brutally honest with her about what does and doesn’t look good. You might not care about designer labels or the latest trends in fashion but you’ve got a great eye for colors and lines. And let’s be honest, hmm? Would you want to go shopping with any of the women in the family?”
She looked at him disdainfully. “Now that’s a question that doesn’t deserve an answer. Fine, I get it. Hannah wants me along because I won’t patronize her or convince her to buy some ugly ass dress because it’s the most expensive or trendiest or whatever. But she’d better not start asking me about stuff like hairstyles or makeup or accessories because that’s way out of my comfort zone.”
He grinned. “Frankly, I think Hannah just wants to get the hell away from my sister for a few days. Laura’s been even more clingy than usual as of late, probably because her baby is going to be flying the coop in a few more months.”
Scarlett grimaced. “Yeah, I get that. I still try to stay as far away from your sister as possible whenever we’re thrown together. You’re positive she doesn’t own a gun? Cause the way she still gives me the stink eye I wouldn’t put it past her to go bonkers one of these times and pull the trigger.”
“She does not own a gun,” assured Jackson calmly. “I even asked Neil once just for my own peace of mind. And you’re right. You and my sister will probably never really get along, so best to just keep your distance. At least my father has finally come around - for the most part, that is.”
Jackson’s relationship with his family - except for Candace and Hannah - was still a bit on the wobbly side even three years after he’d introduced Scarlett to them. He rarely communicated with his brothers, though they had admittedly never really been close. And Barton had predictably been irritated and uncommunicative for quite some time after Jackson had left Arizona and stopped working for the company. But little by little the older man had begun to answer his youngest son’s regular emails and texts, eventually asking how their new business was going, and had even referred some clients their way. And, most startling of all, Barton had finally - in his own gruff, unemotional way, of course - admitted that he was proud of Jackson for striking out on his own and finding his own success.
“Yeah, well, I’m going to guess that wringing a compliment out of your father is tougher than wrestling with an alligator,” mused Scarlett, breaking off half of the giant cookie before walking over to his desk to hand him the other piece. “So take what you can get, hmm?”
“You’re right. He’s always been a hard ass, even when I was a little kid. Exactly the opposite in every way that I would be with a kid of our own.”
Scarlett’s blue eyes widened in alarm. “Uh, since when did the subject of having kids of our own come up? Because if I considered myself to be lousy wife material, trust me I’d be even lousier mother material. Jesus, I can’t believe you’re even suggesting the idea!”
Jackson gave her an exasperated eye roll. “First of all, you’re the only one who’s ever thought you were lousy wife material. You’ve been a great wife, we have a great marriage, and I have a total of zero complaints. Okay, maybe you could work on your mashed potatoes because they are a little lumpy but - ow!”
He rubbed the side of his head where she’d just smacked him with the flat of her palm.
She glared at him. “You told me they were the best mashed potatoes you ever had. Liar. I knew they were lumpy but you kept insisting they were perfect. You just wanted to get lucky that night, didn’t you?”
He grinned at her wickedly. “Maybe. And it worked, didn’t it? It was well worth eating a few mouthfuls of slightly lumpy mashed potatoes for what I gained in return. Hey, careful with that nasty right hook of yours, hmm? I’m already going to have a bruise.”