Page 5 of Kayla's Cowboy

“Yeah, high school,” Jackson said. He stirred restlessly and his gaze swept the ice cream parlor.

“Is there a problem?” Elizabeth asked politely.

“No, nothing. Good to see you, Mrs. Garrison. Welcome back, Kayla.” Jackson tipped his cowboy hat to them and hurried out the door.

They ordered chocolate sodas and found a small corner table.

“I wonder what Jackson was doing here. He was never crazy about sweets,” Kayla murmured.

“Who knows? This is one of the local hot spots to get the latest gossip, though I admit he doesn’t seem to be one for idle chitchat. It could be something to do with his daughter—I hear she’s turned into a real handful.”

Kayla clenched her fingers, unable to decide how she felt about seeing her old boyfriend; she was too tired and frazzled. But meeting Jackson had emphasized the need to speak with Alex about his biological father as soon as possible. It wouldn’t be the easiest discussion. Maybe she shouldn’t have agreed to keep the adoption a secret, but it was what Curtis had wanted.

“I think we should change our order to takeout,” Elizabeth announced suddenly. She went to the old-fashioned marble counter and spoke to the cashier, returning a few minutes later with two large plastic cups.

Grateful, Kayla took hers and they headed for the door. They strolled around town, sipping their ice cream sodas and trying to catch up on the past sixteen years. Yet in the back of her mind, Kayla kept wondering if Jackson remembered his reaction when she’d told him she was pregnant...that he’d used condoms, so obviously the other boys were right about her sleep-around reputation.

Kayla straightened her back. Her son was safe and she’d already weathered some of the worst stuff life could throw at her. She would handle Jackson, one way or the other.

* * *

“I HATE YOU,” Morgan yelled, her blond hair bouncing. “Go ahead, hate me back.”

Jackson McGregor glared at his daughter, though he still chose his words carefully. Unfortunately, he’d had plenty of practice lately. “I don’t hate you,” he said. “But right now I’m struggling to like you as much as I usually do.”

“You think you’re so clever. Why can’t I go to the lake for the weekend?”

“At your age? A girl? With a bunch of the wildest kids in school, with no adults? Do you think I’ve lost my mind?”

Morgan stomped her foot. “If I was a guy you’d let me go, and that’s not fair. It’s a...a double standard. The other kids will think I’m a nun. Can’t you try to remember what it was like in high school?”

“I remember all too well, and I’ll be damned if I make it easy for you to repeat my mistakes.”

“Yeah, I know all about your mistakes.”

“Then, you should realize that I know what I’m talking about,” he told her.

“Yeah, you had fun, but you don’t want me to have any at all.”

Jackson counted to ten as his daughter disappeared around the corner of the barn. Morgan had always been strong willed, but lately she’d gone completely ornery and seemed determined to drive him crazy. It was a miracle if a day passed without a shouting match. As for being grounded, she did her best to make it appear as if she was disobeying him. Just that afternoon she’d hidden in the hayloft of one of the barns, letting him think she’d sneaked into town. He’d wasted hours looking for her. Lately he’d been in Schuyler far too often, tracking her down for one reason or another.

Just a few months ago she’d hacked her hair into a hideous spiky cut. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she’d begun adding a dramatic fluorescent streak down one side, using a selection of temporary dyes. Every morning it had been a different color. Though her hair had grown out, it put him on edge, wondering what she’d do next. Hell, much as he loved her, raising a boy might have been easier.

Jackson trotted up the patio steps and into the house, tempted to call his mother and ask for advice. But it wasn’t fair to load his problems onto her. His parents had raised their own family and two of his cousins, as well. They’d done their duty.

He glanced at Flora, the woman he’d hired to keep house. “Any pearls of wisdom to share?” he asked.

Flora shrugged. “Afraid not.” She was sitting at the kitchen table, snapping string beans. She worked hard and was a great cook but hadn’t connected with Morgan as much as he’d hoped. Not that it was a housekeeper’s job to provide motherly guidance.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “I thought you were spending the night in town.”

“My sister canceled on me. She got a hot date at the last minute.”

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