Page 85 of Her Ex's Father
There he is.
Jack McAllister, in all his easy, boy-next-door glory. His hair is shorter than the last time I saw him, a precise military cut. Hisshoulders are broader too, the kind of build that looks earned, not inherited. He grins, and suddenly I’m not thirty going on ancient, I’m fifteen again, sneaking out of the ranch to go to the county fair with him.
“Jack.” I laugh, a little broken, and let him pull me into a hug. His arms are strong, steady, and familiar. Home in a way that doesn’t hurt.
“God, it’s good to see you,” he murmurs into my hair before pulling back. His eyes sweep over me, not like a man checking out a woman, but like a brother making sure his sister hasn’t fallen apart. “You look tired.”
“That’s one way to put it,” I say, managing a smile.
He takes my bag before I can protest, slinging it over his shoulder with practiced ease. “Come on. I know just the place to fix that face.”
Phone pinging again, I glance down at it in my lap, and a real smile turns my lips upward.
“Stella says high.”
Jack’s brows rise as he chuckles around a mouthful of hash. “Tell her I say hi back. What’s she up to these days? Staying out of trouble?”
We both grin at the memory of sweet Stell, the one my parentsshouldhave kept an eye on but never managed to. If anyone was going to get the family name in those Montana tabloids it was her. Jack and I saved her butt more than a few times, covering for her or taking the blame.
“She still owes me,” he says, as if reading my mind, “for saying I was the one who left the gate open at the Dewy Ranch.”
The memory flickers through my head: dozens of horses running at sunset, thinning as they thundered out of the paddock, then spreading out against the great rolling ranchland. Matt Dewy was a bully who gave Stella hell growing up. She got back at him—his whole family, really—and Jack, who was briefly a hand on their ranch, took the blame for that debacle.
It was a whole week before they got the last horse back home.
“Are you going to eat?” Jack asks, chucking his chin at the menu.
When we arrived ten minutes or so ago, my stomach was still tied in knots. I’d asked the waitress to give me a second, but Jack went right for his usual—corned beef hash, eggs benedict, and a cranberry orange muffin.
I gaze longingly at his coffee, then browse the menu quickly. When my stomach rumbles again he smiles gently at the bump. “Sounds likesomeoneis hungry, even if you aren’t.”
The diner is small, tucked into a corner lot with neon signs still buzzing faintly in the early morning light. The bell over the front door jingles as a crew of older men—retired, judging by their outfits and demeanors—stroll in and head to a massive corner booth. It smells like fried bacon, coffee grounds, and syrup, the kind of smell that sticks to your hair and clothes for hours. My stomach growls again, and Jack signals the waitress.
“What’ll it be? Philly cheesesteak for breakfast?” he jokes as she nods that she saw and will head over shortly.
“Gross,” I say automatically, then hesitate. “Actually… you’re going to laugh.”
“Try me.”
I bite my lip, cheeks heating. “Pickle juice slushies.”
Jack blinks. Then his grin spreads like wildfire. “No way. You mean you want, like, shaved ice and pickle brine poured over it?”
“Yes.” My hands fly up defensively. “Don’t judge me. It’s a thing.”
“Oh, I’m judging. Hard.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Of course it’s you. You always had the weirdest taste. Remember when you put peanut butter on steak?”
“That was an experiment!”
“That was a crime.”
I snort and roll my eyes, but my chest loosens for the first time in days. “Hugh used to make them for me in Aspen. Secretly. He’d blend ice and pour the juice over it, like some kind of bartender-slash-enabler.”
“Hugh,” Jack echoes. “That's the assistant guy, right?Notyour husband?”
He’s playing innocent, as if he doesn’t know exactly who Benedict Bronson is. But even Jack, the most blue-collar guy I’ve ever met, has heard of the resort mogul.
“Yeah.” My throat tightens. “He’s… loyal. Too loyal, maybe. He would do anything for Ben, but he keeps my ridiculous cravings a secret.”
