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.”
“Right. How’ve you been, Crissy?” he asked politely.
“Can’t complain. Bobby and I tied the knot—you remember Bobby, don’t cha? He played for the Steers, same as you. Anyway, we tied the knot, happily married for four years now.”
“I’m glad to hear it, darlin’.”
“You look good, Jackson. Real good. I’m feeling a lil’ tongue-tied lookin’ at you.”
Crissy’s big smirk annoyed the shit out of him. So did the way she’d used the word “tied” three times in less than a minute.
Not as subtle as you think, Miss Crissy.
Jackson smothered his irritation as he responded with, “You’re lookin’ good too. Bobby’s a lucky man.”
“Damn right.” The brunette glanced around the booth. “What can I get you folks? A cold Bud for Shane, Long Island iced tea for Tiffy—I already know that. What else?”
Jackson and Mia both ordered Bud Lights, and then Crissy flounced off, leaving the foursome to their nervous small talk.
He ought to put an end to this nonsense, Jackson knew that. He needed to look Shane in the eye and demand that his brother apologize for what he’d done, but before he could, another unwanted visitor dropped by their booth.
“Jackson Ramsey!” The bulky man who’d approached was a former classmate of Jackson’s, who’d gone by the nickname Rocky back in the day.
“Rocky, good to see you,” he said guardedly.
“Don’t go by Rocky anymore, man—it’s just Stuart now. But then you’d know that if you came home more often.” Stuart’s dark eyes gleamed. “But I s’pose you’re too busy havin’ a ton of kinky sex over in Cali.”
Jackson set his jaw and refused to take the bait. “Naah, I’m busy savin’ the world.”
“Yeah, I heard you were some kind of SEAL,” Stuart retorted, sounding unimpressed. “Bet that really gets the chickies goin’. Prolly makes it easier to get ’em to agree to all that bondage shit you’re into.”
“Stuart,” Shane said with a note of warning.
“What? I’m just messin’ around. He knows that, right, Jackson?”
He grunted in response, his hands tingling with the urge to clock the son of a bitch.
Fortunately, Rocky AKA Stuart didn’t stick around. The beefy man stumbled away when somebody called out his name, much to Jackson’s relief.
When Crissy returned with their drinks a moment later, Jackson immediately reached for his beer and chugged half of it straight away.
“Shit, I’m sorry about that.”
Shane’s gruff words surprised the heck out of him. “No biggie,” Jackson mumbled.
“Maybe we should just go,” Tiffany said timidly, running her finger along the rim of her glass. “Everyone keeps starin’ at us.”