Page 10 of Curvy Girl and the Grumpy Cowboy

Sarah is still deep in conversation, her back partially turned to me. As I approach, Mayor Henderson notices me first, his eyebrows lifting slightly.

"Ah, Jackson Covington! Good to see you, son." He extends his hand, which I shake automatically. "We were just discussing the impact this therapy center could have on our veterans' community."

And then Sarah turns, her eyes finding mine, and the rest of the room seems to fade away. There's surprise in her expression, maybe a touch of nervousness, but something else too—a spark I haven't dared to hope for.

"Jackson," she says, my name soft on her lips. "You came."

Chapter 4 - Sarah

"Jackson," I say, his name feeling both foreign and achingly familiar on my lips. "You came."

He stands before me in a charcoal suit that fits him a bit too snugly across the shoulders, his dark hair combed neatly back, hat absent for once. He looks uncomfortable in the formal clothes, yet undeniably handsome—like a wild thing temporarily tamed.

"I said I would," he answers simply.

Mayor Henderson glances between us, his political instincts sensing the undercurrent. "Well, I should mingle. Wonderful event, Sarah. The town is behind you one hundred percent."

I barely register the mayor's departure, caught in Jackson's steady gaze. He looks at me like he's memorizing every detail, and I fight the urge to smooth my dress or touch my hair.

"Your brothers came too," I say, spotting them across the room.

Vincent's little girl twirls in her dress while his girlfriend laughs, and I'm struck by how much the family has changed in my absence. Grown. Evolved.

"They wouldn't miss it," Jackson says. "Neither would I."

The intensity in his voice sends a shiver through me that I hope isn't visible. I've imagined seeing him dressed up like this countless times over the years, usually in scenarios involving me in a white dress. Foolish dreams I thought I'd outgrown.

"The turnout is amazing," I say, gesturing to the crowded room. "We might actually hit our fundraising goal."

"That's great, Sarah. Really." His voice softens. "This place looks incredible. You look incredible."

I feel heat rise in my cheeks. "Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself, cowboy."

A small smile touches his lips. "Don't get used to it. The suit's about to split if I raise my arms."

The familiar humor breaks some of the tension between us, and I find myself laughing. "Some things never change."

"And some things do," he says, his expression turning serious again.

Before I can respond, Melissa appears at my elbow. "Sarah, sorry to interrupt, but we need you for the presentation in five minutes."

"Right. Thanks, Melissa." I turn back to Jackson. "I have to go explain the project and kick off the auction. Will you... will you still be here after?"

Something flashes in his eyes—determination, maybe. "I'm not going anywhere."

Words that mean more than they should.

The presentation goes smoothly. Standing on the small stage, I explain the vision for Equine Heart Center—the children and veterans we'll serve, the specialized equipment we need, the healing that happens between humans and horses. As I speak, my eyes keep finding Jackson in the crowd. He stands with his brothers, watching me with unwavering attention.

When I finish to enthusiastic applause, relief washes through me. The hard part is over. Mayor Henderson announces the silent auction is officially open, and the band begins to play a soft melody as people move toward the auction tables.

I step down from the stage, immediately surrounded by well-wishers and potential donors. I answer questions and accept congratulations, all while aware of Jackson moving around theperimeter of the room. He stops at every auction item, writing on bid sheets, his expression focused.

An hour later, as I finally extract myself from a conversation with Mrs. Abernathy about her grandson's autism diagnosis, Cole appears at my side.

"You're doing amazing," he says, handing me a glass of punch. "Half the town's fighting over those auction baskets."

"Thanks for your help with everything," I tell him, genuinely grateful. "I couldn't have pulled this off without you."

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