Page 86 of Nashville Cowboy
“Values are not in the DNA. They come from the way we’re raised.”
“Oh, of course, and you could be an involved father if you wanted to be. Is that what you want? Because I’m open to it. I just thought you’d want to make your deposit and be on your way.”
“Is there anything else you wanted to discuss, because as far as I’m concerned this subject has been beaten to death.”
“Fine.” She ordered a glass of wine when the waiter returned, and Jackson declined. “Look, let’s have a nice meal together and you just think about what I said.”
“There’s nothing to think about.”
They got through the meal without talking more about her ridiculous partnership request. He couldn’t help thinking of his father’s prized bull and the sperm he seemed unable or unwilling to produce. Jackson never thought he’d find himself commiserating with a bull. But hell, a man’s sperm was as personal as someone could get. It was his, damn it. He wasn’t going to have any child of his raised by a woman he didn’t trust. A woman he didn’t love. There wasn’t enough pity in the world to make him want to help Winona with this.
And if that wasn’t enough, there was Eve to consider. He could only imagine how thrilled she’d be to hear of this latest development.
Before he left, Winona couldn’t resist one more parting shot. “Promise me you’ll watch your back with Eve. I don’t trust her, and neither should you.”
He drove back and decided not to mention any of this to Eve. He’d said no secrets, but this wasn’t a secret. This was a big fat nothing burger which would be just the kind of thing to upset her and feed her insecurities.
He didn’t need the drama just when everything had been going so well between them.
On the way home, he stopped in the Shady Grind for a beer and to check in with Priscilla. He hadn’t seen enough of his old friend since he’d been back in town, and now that he had made the decision to stay, he thought she should be among the first to know.
The crowd was light on a weekday evening, just a few stragglers sitting on the barstools. He waved to Riggs Henderson, a local rancher, as Riggs left.
Priscilla wiped the bar and gave him a big smile when she caught his eye.
“Hey, cowboy. You alone tonight?”
“Yep. Just wanted to come by for a beer and some company.”
“How’s your day going?”
He tipped his Stetson. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.” She crossed her arms. “Bartender here. I’ve heard it all.”
He kind of doubted she’d heard this one, and given by her wide eyes, he’d been right. “I trust you can keep this between us.”
She made a motion to lock her lips and throw away the key. “I wouldn’t know where to start if Iwantedto talk. No one would believe me. The nerve!”
“She helped me out during a difficult time in my life. Now she thinks I owe her for giving me a fast divorce and not making me sign a pre-nup.”
“You didn’t sign apre-nup? But you could be—”
“A very rich man right now?” He took a pull of his beer. “Maybe. But that’s not me. I always wanted to make my own way. You know that.”
“’Course I do. But you could accept help now and then, you know. We have a great community right here.”
“I know that. And if there’s ever anything you can help me with, I’ll ask. But hey, let me know if I can do anything to help you.”
“Think you might stick around for good? Lillian would be so happy. She mentions it every Sunday at church. ‘Jackson will be coming home. It will just take a spell.’”
Jackson chuckled. “The spell lasted eight years, but I think it’s worn off. Tarnished. I’m tired of touring, I’m tired of the lifestyle. The original musicians disbanded a while ago.”
“Are you under contract?”
“Between them. I got out of my contract due to creative differences.” He set his beer down. “I don’t know, maybe I’ve been trying to control everything when I should have just trusted the label to make me a star.”
Priscilla took out a towel and polished a glass. “Maybe being a star isn’t all it’s cracked up to be when you’re pushing forty and have to go around asking your exes to part with some of their sperm and make a baby.”
