Page 14 of Curvy Girl and the Grumpy Cowboy

"Yeah." A soft smile touches his lips. "I couldn't finish my food. Just sat there remembering how you'd laugh when the spice was too much for me." His voice roughens. "Broke things off the next day."

I stare at him, stunned by this uncharacteristic openness. Jackson Covington has never been one to volunteer his feelings, especially not the vulnerable ones.

"Cole said I was an idiot," he adds with a self-deprecating chuckle. "Said I needed to move on. But how do you move on when every damn sunset reminds you of someone's smile?"

"Jackson..." I whisper, completely unprepared for the raw honesty in his words.

"I'm not good at this, Sarah," he says, finally glancing at me. "Talking about feelings. Putting myself out there. But I figure after seven years of regrets, maybe it's time to try something different."

The truck pulls into the driveway of the Miller place, gravel crunching beneath the tires. He turns off the engine but makes no move to get out.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" I ask, my heart hammering against my ribs.

He turns in his seat to face me, his expression more open than I've ever seen it.

"I'm saying that I've missed you every day for seven years. I'm saying that no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise, there's a Sarah-shaped hole in my life that nothing else can fill."

I blink rapidly, fighting unexpected tears. This is a side of Jackson I've rarely witnessed—the gruff, stoic cowboy laying his heart bare without reservation.

"I don't expect anything," he adds quickly. "I know I hurt you. I know trust has to be earned back. But I'm willing to put in the work, Sarah. However long it takes."

I reach across the space between us, placing my hand over his. "You know, for a man of few words, you certainly found the right ones tonight."

His fingers turn, entwining with mine. "Been practicing them for about seven years."

"Coffee is a good start," I whisper, squeezing his hand. "I've waited a long time to see this side of you, Jackson Covington."

In the silver moonlight filtering through the windshield, his honest smile is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

Chapter 5 - Jackson

Seven years, and Sarah Matthews still affects me like no other woman ever has—the slight dimple in her left cheek when she smiles, the way her eyes catch the light. Most beautiful woman I've ever seen, then and now.

"We should go in," she says softly, her hand still in mine. "Before the coffee becomes breakfast."

I nod, reluctantly letting go to step out of the truck. The night air is cool against my face as I round the hood to open her door—an old habit she used to tease me about. But tonight she accepts the gesture with a small smile.

The gravel crunches beneath our feet as we walk toward the farmhouse. Lights from the porch cast a warm glow across the weathered boards. It's strange seeing the old Miller place transformed—flowers planted where weeds once grew, fresh paint brightening the worn siding.

"The place looks good," I say, hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her again. "You've done a lot in a month."

"Wait till you see inside. I've been sleeping surrounded by paint cans and drop cloths."

As we walk, a question that's been gnawing at me all night finally works its way out. "So, were there...I mean, did you have...in Seattle..."

I stumble over the words, feeling like an awkward teenager instead of a forty-four-year-old man. Sarah glances sideways at me, amusement dancing in her eyes.

"Are you asking if I dated in Seattle, Jackson Covington?"

I clear my throat. "Just curious."

"Mmm," she hums, not buying it for a second. "I don't recall you being the jealous type."

"I'm not jealous," I grunt. "Just...curious."

She laughs, the sound warming me more than any coffee could. "Yes, I dated. Not many, but a few. There was one—David. A pediatric surgeon at the hospital. We were together almost a year."

Something cold settles in my stomach. A year is serious. A year is meeting families and planning futures.

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