Page 4 of Nashville Cowboy
Jackson’s mind worked overtime with every passing mile.
There surely couldn’t be anythingworsethan informing Jackson that Eve would be the maid of honor while he’d be the best man. He’d received the news several months ago, and with time, digested the idea. Time to tuck in the anger and hostility, all he had left for Eve. He’d get over his damn self. There could be nothing worse than facing the woman who’d ripped his heart out and stomped all over it, humiliating him in front of a full church. Nothing worse than having to face her after eight years of struggling, and too many record deals that fell through. Nothing worse, other than maybe…
“Shit, Linc. What the hell’s wrong? What did Daisy do? Is it Mima? What are y’all keepin’ from me now?”
“Daisy’s fine. Still fixing engines down at Lou’s. Still got her eye on the rodeo cowboys.” Lincoln kept driving on the main highway headed south. “And Mima…well…she’s alright.”
Carver code for, “It was bad there for a while, cowboy, but we made it through.” In other words, Jackson heard a “but” coming. “But…?”
“She had a little…fall.”
Jackson pulled off his hat and shoved fingers through his hair. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Said she’s fine, didn’t I? Stubborn woman tried to climb a ladder in her bedroom closet, determined to find something old for Sadie to wear in the wedding. Broke her arm in three places. She had surgery, and—”
“Surgery! Why didn’t you think to call me?”
“You were on tour.”
“My cell phone works all over the country, you know.”
Lincoln blew out an exasperated-sounding sigh. “Nothing you could do. Except worry. Spared you that, and now she’s fine. She’s recoverin’ at home, with some hired help to make sure she doesn’t try to overdo it.”
Jackson allowed his shoulders to unkink. “Smart. That’s…that’s good.”
“Glad you think so.” Linc cleared his throat. “Got her a great companion, and Mima loves her. She doesnowanyway.”
“Took a bit to grow on her, did she?” Jackson grinned.
The octogenarian did not “suffer fools,” or at least that was one of her favorite southwest sayings, of which she had an entire catalog.
“Somethin’ like that.”
“Let me know how much she’s charging, and I’ll help pay for it.” Jackson reclined his seat and settled in for the long drive. He might catch a wink or two since he hadn’t slept well on the plane. “Where am I stayin? The main house?”
“Yeah, if you don’t mind.”
Mima lived in the main ranch-style house on their land where she’d raised two generations of Carvers. Raised a son, watched a daughter-in-law walk away from her family, and subsequently helped raise another generation of Carvers. They’d lost Pop a few years ago.
Their father, Hank, resided in the smaller house up the hill near the lodge and Linc should know that Jackson would rather not stay with him. Hank still controlled most of the cattle operations, Lincoln his right-hand man.
“Why would I mind stayin’ at the main house?”
“You might after I tell you what I have to next.”
“Ah, there it is.” He did know his family. “What are you holding out?”
“I don’t want you to get upset.”
“Why would I get upset?” Every muscle in him tensed to the consistency of granite.
“Maybe because you got off that plane already lookin’ like you wanted to throttle someone.”
“Not true.”
“Look, I can’t help that Sadie and Eve have been best friends since high school. You should know better than anyone how close they are. How can I tell my future wife that she can’t have Eve as her maid of honor because it will royally piss off the best man?”
“Can’t. I got over it. I’ll deal.”
