“Naah, it’s cool.” He lowered his voice. “Just be prepared to get stared at some more.”
Her heart ached for him, and the unfairness of the situation really hit home when she noticed a passing trio of women smile at Shane and his wife, who were walking ahead of them. Those same ladies frowned the moment they saw Jackson, which irked the hell out of Mia.
She suddenly had to wonder if maybe Shane and Tiffany were contributing to the icy reception Jackson received each time he came home. Maybe if the two of them made an actual show of solidarity with Jackson, the townsfolk would realize there was nothing for them to gossip about, that it was all water under the bridge.
“Why don’t we invite your brother and Tiffany to come with us?” Mia spoke in a barely audible voice, but she knew Jackson had heard her, because his wide shoulders went rigid.
“You really think that’s a good idea?” His lack of enthusiasm showed on his face.
“You’re going to have to talk to them eventually, right? Wasn’t that the plan?”
“Yeah…but in public?”
“Might as well.” Anger colored her tone. “At least if it’s in public, he won’t be able to lay a hand on you.”
“Now, sugar…”
“Sorry,” she muttered. “Uncalled for.”
Jackson sighed. “I guess it wouldn’t kill me to make the first move. Y’know, extend the olive branch or whatnot.”
Mia had learned that when Jackson made up his mind about something, he didn’t dilly-dally around. He was the kind of man who followed through immediately, and that was exactly what he did now.
“Shane,” he called out gruffly.
His brother’s back tensed for a moment, and then Shane glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“Mia and I were gonna head to the saloon after dinner. Do you and Tiff wanna join us?”
Shock flared in the other man’s eyes. “Uh…” He exchanged a quick look with his wife, then nodded awkwardly. “Sure. We’ll join you.”
Jackson nodded back. “’Kay.”
Just like that, the “date” had been set, and Mia didn’t miss the wave of surprise that traveled over the rest of their little group. Jackson’s parents looked like they’d just seen an elephant lumbering down Main Street, while Evie was completely agape.
“This has the potential to end very, very badly,” Jackson told Mia in the softest of voices.
She attempted to be optimistic. “Or it could go great.”
He didn’t look convinced.
And frankly, neither was she.
Two hours later, Jackson knew with absolute certainty that he’d made a mistake.
The Creek Saloon was filled to the gills, and every head swiveled to the door when the foursome strode inside. He suddenly wished he and Mia had just gone home with Evie and his parents. He could’ve ridden Glory over to Shane’s cabin and they would’ve had this unpleasant reunion in private, rather than in front of the whole dang town.
But it was too late now. He’d made his uncomfortable bed and now he had to lie in it, so he swallowed his reluctance, gripped Mia’s hand even tighter and followed his brother and ex-girlfriend toward a semi-private booth against the far wall. The bar’s dim lighting made it easier for him to ignore the cutting stares of the other patrons, and the country tune blaring out of the jukebox drowned out the whispers that were no doubt being exchanged as the two couples settled on opposite sides of the booth.
“Uh…so…” Jackson pasted on a cordial expression. “I never had a chance to congratulate you guys. Y’know, the wedding and all.”
Shane responded with a brisk nod. “Thanks.”
“Thank you,” Tiffany echoed. She looked distinctly uncomfortable as she played with a strand of her blond hair.
“Did you get married here in town?” Mia’s casual tone sounded as forced as everyone else’s.
“We did,” Tiffany confirmed. “We were married in the same church where Jackson’s folks got hitched.”
“Oh, that’s nice.”
There was a beat of silence.
“So you work for a landscaping company,” Tiffany said clumsily. “Do you like it?”
“I love it,” Mia answered.
Another silence.
“How are you enjoyin’ military life, Jack?” Shane finally spoke up.
He shrugged. “It’s a lot different than ranchin’, but just as back-breakin’.”
“I imagine so.”
More silence, and then all four of them spoke at once.
“So—”
“Well—”
“How do—”
“Are you—”
A wave of uneasy laughter washed over the booth, but none of them got to finish their sentences because a very familiar woman in a waitress apron had appeared out of nowhere.
“Well, as I live ’n breathe,” the waitress drawled. “Jackson Ramsey, back in Abbott Creek.”
He studied the dark-haired woman, scanning his memory as he tried to figure out how he knew her.
“Crissy,” she prompted. “I was on the cheerleading squad with Tiff.”