“Leave our guest alone, Evangeline,” Arlene chided. “We’ll get to know Mia in due time.”
Both women spoke in the same Southern drawl as Jackson, which Mia found utterly endearing. She followed them into the house and was instantly greeted by the most delicious aromas on the planet.
“Something smells amazing,” she commented.
“Thank you, darlin’.” Arlene flushed prettily. She had Jackson’s dark hair and light-brown eyes, but her face was more rounded and her cheeks seemed to have a perpetual rosy glow. “Dinner will be ready in an hour or two. We usually eat early, around four, so we can catch the game at four thirty. The boys would have my head if we missed kickoff.”
“The football game,” Evie clarified, her eyes narrowing as if she were waiting for Mia to object.
But Mia just grinned and said, “Awesome. I didn’t want to miss seeing the Cowboys kick some butt.”
Approval lit up Evie’s gaze. “You’re a Cowboys fan?”
“Not entirely. We moved around a lot when I was a kid so I was never able to form an attachment to one specific home team. I’m more of a player fan than a team fan. And I love me some Tony Romo.”
The two women laughed, and then Arlene addressed her daughter. “Why don’t you give Mia a quick tour of the house while I check on the turkey?”
Evie voiced an easy assent, and for the next ten minutes, showed Mia every inch of the Ramsey homestead, which was as cozy inside as it was out. Wood-paneled walls and weathered parquet floors spanned the large house, and every bedroom featured deep bay windows that overlooked a part of the sprawling ranch. Mia laughed when she got a peek at Jackson’s childhood bedroom, a big, airy space with shelves littered with trophies and white walls covered in posters of bikini models draped over sports cars.
“Classy,” she said dryly.
Evie laughed again, a high, melodic sound that was downright contagious. “He was obsessed with those posters. Mom decided to keep ’em up even after he moved out. She says they add charm to the room.”
Mia snickered, then followed Evie down the wide hallway lined with framed family photographs and pretty oil paintings of western landscapes. She paused in front of one photo in particular, a shot featuring two smiling dark-haired boys with their arms slung around each other. The boys were about eight and ten years old, and she recognized one as a very young, very adorable Jackson. The other boy was older, but looked so much like Jackson that she knew it must be his brother.
“That’s Jackie ’n Shane,” Evie told her. “They were joined at the hip when they were kids.”
Mia just nodded, not wanting to bring up the brotherly estrangement that was currently wreaking havoc on the Ramsey family, but Evie surprised her by raising the topic.
“I suppose Jackie told you about the beef between him ’n Shane?”
“He did,” Mia said guardedly.
Evie heaved out a dramatic sigh. “Well, I think you should ride my stubborn brother’s ass and tell him to straighten this nonsense up already. It’s gettin’ dang old.”
She stifled a laugh. “I’ll see what I can do.”
As they headed to the second floor staircase, Mia shot Jackson’s sister a sidelong look. “How old are you, anyway?”
Evie beamed. “Turning twenty-one next week. Finally! You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to be legal. I’m tired of bribing Jed at the hardware store to buy me beer.”
Mia had to grin. Damn, she really liked Jackson’s sister. The girl was vibrant and outspoken, exuding the same charm as her older brother, but also a devilish energy that Mia suspected made Evie Ramsey a lot of fun to hang out with.
They went back downstairs, Evie yet again linking their arms on the way to the enormous country-style kitchen. Arlene was chopping onions on the huge cedar work island when they walked in, and she looked up with a smile.
“So what do you think of our humble abode?” the older woman asked.
“I love it,” Mia confessed. “You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Ramsey.”
“Oh, pshaw—call me Arlene,” Jackson’s mother said firmly.
“Okay. Arlene.”
“Thatta girl. Now come pull up a stool and keep me company while I dice. Kurt’s stolen my son away, so we have plenty of time for some good ol’ fashioned girl talk.”
Jackson had known he’d get a lecture from his father at some point, but he hadn’t expected it to happen within five minutes of his arrival. As he set down his and Mia’s bags on the porch, Kurt crossed his arms over the front of his blue-and-white Western shirt and gave him a stern look.
“Why don’t we go down to the barn, son?” It was voiced as a question, but was clearly a demand.