5. Riley
five
Riley
“ H e told you food facts? And you’re still interested? How good-looking is this guy, Riley?”
“Listen, it’s useful trivia. And he’s got Greek-god-level looks. I bet his abs are as chiselled as his cheekbones.”
My best friend laughs over the phone.
“So he’s hot and nerdy? God, could you imagine him at one of my stuffy law dinners?”
Gabe laughs, and I’d normally join him, but I don’t like laughing at Jack. He seemed genuinely nervous and was super sweet. Maybe he had an awful experience with love and that’s why he seems so awkward. He certainly has good enough looks to snag anyone he wants.
“Well, maybe I’ll ask him out if he doesn’t ask first. He’s not nerdy. He’s just…I don’t know. He’s kind of charming just the way he is.” I’m not lying. He is. I know it’s my job to organize romantic events and coach people when they ask for help with romance, but sometimes it’s better to keep people in their natural state. Let them lean into that awkward part and embrace it.
Jack definitely charmed me with his carrot facts and his… realness. Maybe I set the bar too low, but it was refreshing. I’m used to men assuming things about me based on my looks and pr ofession. So this was a pleasant change. While he called me pretty, he was sincere, and it didn’t give me ick vibes.
Gabe clears his throat, and I sit up, instantly on guard as the tone of our conversation changes. Even over the phone, the shift in his energy is like we’re sitting in the same room.
“Riley…this isn’t just a personal call. I need to discuss Chase’s case.”
My blood pressure spikes just at the sound of his name.
“What is it?” I snap out, irritated that Chase’s name had to come up while I was daydreaming about Jack.
“His lawyers want to call you to the stand.”
“No. Absolutely not. I told you I’m not helping him.”
Gabe’s heavy breath passes through the phone, and my free hand curls into a fist.
“Riley, I can’t stop it. If they subpoena you, then you have to show up.”
“What the fuck do they think I can do to help his lying ass? Nothing, Gabe!”
“Actually, there is something.”
Gabe’s voice softens, and I flop back on the sofa with a sigh.
“Gabe, just tell me.”
“I know you hate him, but he’s being accused of a serious crime. He could go to jail for something he didn’t do, Riley. You’re better than that.”
“And how can I help him with that? Why should I?”
The longer the pause in Gabe’s answer, the more my head pounds. Chase is a headache that never ends.
“He was on a date with you the night his wife said he hit her. She logged proof at the hospital for an assault. She didn’t press charges then, but she is now. Unless he can prove without question that it wasn’t him, it’s another charge against him. I don’t think I need to tell you, Riley, how serious this one could be for him. Impersonating someone to defraud others is one thing, but domestic assault is a whole other matter.”
Running a hand down my face, I drop my head back to stare at the ceiling. Chase Kenney, will you ever leave my life for good? I owe him nothing. He lied about his identity. Cheated on his wife. Made me fall in love with him, and he was nothing but a con artist. A man in the closet living a secret life that I fell for.
Hard.
If it wasn’t for Gabe asking a few unsuspecting questions when Chase fucked up, it may have ended differently. Chase wasn’t a big, important oil baron. He was just a cowboy who liked to spend money faster than he earned it.
I blame my soft heart for falling for him. It certainly didn’t hurt that he had a silver tongue and a face that belonged on a magazine cover, but he wove a story of loss and family drama that I could relate to. Chase knew every button to push for me and I lapped it all up. I ignored every single red flag because he made me feel like I was a king.
When Chase’s elaborate facade crashed down, my hope for my own happily ever after burned along with it. Trust was obliterated. My heart that once gave so freely was an empty sack, drained and so scarred I wonder if it will ever beat for someone again.
As much as I dislike the man for making me his target and not seeming to care about any of the collateral damage he caused, Gabe is right. I wouldn’t forgive myself if he went to prison for something he didn’t do .
“Fine. Just try to make it fast. I’m right into the wedding planning season. I’ll be swamped.”
“You made the right choice, Rye.”
“Yeah, well, he’s still a cowboy who needs to be castrated with the next round of calves. I feel like he’s a mistake that will never go away.”
“He might not, Rye. It’s okay to admit you loved him, you know. Yes, he wasn’t who he said he was, but you didn’t know. It’ll get better.”
“Yeah, I know…I just…I thought he was my prince, and he broke my fucking heart, Gabe. Smashed it into a million pieces and I felt like such an idiot.” My laptop screen saver kicks in and it’s a photo of me with Aunt Agnes. The one good thing about this mess with Chase is I quit my escort job and moved back home. Not that I hated being an escort, I loved it. But it’s how I met Chase.
I needed the distance from the profession. The constant reminder that he ruined something I loved was too much to handle. Being closer to my aunt is a wonderful bonus. I’ve missed her. One silver lining in the whole shit show.
And it kick-started me to set up the wedding planning and romance business I’d always had on the back burner. It turned out to be the best thing I’d ever done. I won’t go as far as thanking Chase for it, though. I’m just looking at the positive spin of it all. If I don’t, I’ll only spiral in a loop of self-pity and I’m done going there.
“Well, I think if this vegetable-loving mystery man makes you want to get back to dating, then this is a good thing.”
“Speaking of, it’s time for me to get to the park.”
“I won’t keep you then. Good luck! ”
Gabe doesn’t even say goodbye. He just ends the call and I shake my head.
Stepping into the office bathroom, I adjust my shirt and apply fresh deodorant. I tousle my hair and aim for the trendy, fresh-out-of-bed look. Before stepping out, I rinse with mouthwash.
“Good grief. I’m nervous.” Laughing softly, I stare at my reflection. I used to date strangers for a living. Most of them I even had sex with. I was never nervous because there was nothing to be nervous about then. It was a job.
But this is different. He’s interested in me and not because he saw my face on a website with hourly rates. He wants me, and I’m meeting him on my time. On my lunch break! It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this excited about a date. If you could call it a date. Jack may have spoken to me from behind the flowers initially, but he wasn’t hiding. He’s just shy.
A far cry from some of my former clients who had very specific requests.
Noting the time, I speed walk down to the park with my lunch bag. The picnic table is empty and no feet poke out from the flower bed.
Okay, no big deal. We missed each other before. Maybe something came up. Last time that happened, we were able to meet up again. If he doesn’t show, I’ll keep coming back until we connect again.
No big deal.
Except it is .
Because I got my hopes up to see Jack today and he didn’t show. The disappointment sits like lead on my shoulders, and I’m not in the mood to psychoanalyze myself about what that means.
With my lunch bag hanging at my side, I finally head back to the office when I can’t wait a minute longer for him to show or I’ll be late for my next client.
Once back in my office, the disappointment clings to me like pet hair on your favourite pants. It’s impossible for me to shake it and I hate that.
And my client is late.
My earlier hopeful mood has vanished, and I want to scream. It isn’t like me to mope and have so much…whatever this feeling is.
I’m just about to send off an email to my late client advising that the consult fee is non-refundable when there’s a knock at the door and it swings open.
“I’m so, so sorry I’m late. I was helping a friend load cattle and —”
He stands in the doorway, lips parted as he stares. Jack swallows hard and removes his cowboy hat. His mouth moves silently and his free hand waves. It’s a little wave, almost like a kid, and at any other time, I’d find it oddly cute and affectionate.
But it’s Jack, aka Jackson, and he’s not a businessman like I thought.
He’s a cowboy… and my late client.
“ You’re Jackson?”
Jackson’s brow furrows as he nods. “My friends sometimes call me Jack. I use both. Jackson is on my birth certificate, though. My mom liked it. But yeah, I’m Jackson. ”
He closes my office door and Jackson’s fingers worry at the edge of his cowboy hat.
“Can I still have the appointment?”
Fuck, I don’t know. Should he? Why does my mystery guy have to be another damn cowboy?
“Why were you wearing a suit when we met?” I bark. Perhaps too sharply, but I was already into the thought of this guy being something good and he’s lied. I suppose that one’s on me for assuming.
“Um, I had a meeting with a lawyer those days. Several of them, actually. That’s over now.”
A lawyer. Great. Another cowboy in trouble. I’m not sure if this day can get any worse.
“You haven’t answered my question,” Jackson whispers.
My gaze snaps to his, and those eyes, the ones so tender and kind that drew me in, pin me in place waiting for an answer. God dammit, why does he still have to be handsome?
Clearing my throat, I stand to introduce myself.
“Jackson, I apologize for being less than professional.” I offer a hand to him, and the moment he accepts my hand in his, my entire body notices the rough callouses on his palm across my smooth one and the way his fingers squeeze mine, sending my pulse into overdrive. Just like the first time.
“I’m Riley. Owner of Wild Romance. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Officially. Please.” I gesture to the chair across from my desk. “Sit. Of course, you can still have the appointment.”
Jackson nods and sits, placing his hat on the empty chair next to him. His knee bounces just as fast as the time we sat and shared lunch, and I pull over my notepad and pen to take notes, happy to have something to do with my hands.
“It’s nice to meet you again, Riley.” Jackson smiles with a small nod. “I’m sorry I wasn’t at the park today. My friend Hunter owns a ranch. You might know it? Anyway, he had some bulls he needed help trailering. He used to do the breeding stuff at his place, but now he sends them out. Well, he’s clearing them all out and—” Jackson closes his mouth so hard and fast his teeth clack.
“Jackson? Are you okay?”
He nods and stares at the ceiling tiles. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, and a vision of me licking his neck and tracing my tongue over that part of him is so vivid I need to shake my head to clear it.
“I’m okay. This is why I made the appointment. When I’m around attractive men, I babble. The smooth factor no longer exists.” His lips tilt in a crooked smile. “I’m forty and still single because of my absolute inability to flirt. When I’m nervous, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. Like, did you know camels aren’t born with humps? I don’t do parties well and…”
His eyes meet mine. “I’m doing it again, right? Is any of this remotely interesting to you?”
“As someone you’ve hired to help you find romance, yes. It’s extremely interesting.”
Especially since you mentioned I’m attractive. Again.
Jackson pauses and stares in his lap before meeting my gaze again.
“Does this mean you aren’t available for me to ask on a date? I’ve hired you to help me, so isn’t that a breach of confidence or something? Can I date you if I’m paying you? Or…can I just ask you out?”
Oh, boy. I don’t normally talk about my past with clients, or new friends, for that matter. It’s one of those things in life that people can be weird about.
“Well, in my former profession, that’s exactly what I did. I used to be an escort. Men paid me to attend functions with them.” Among other things, but I don’t think I need to voice that part. Why I’m even telling him this, I don’t know. We aren’t dating and we can’t even call ourselves friends.
Yet I’ve just thrown this huge thing about me at him before we even get to know the basics of each other.
Jackson nods slowly, like he understands but yet he doesn’t quite understand.
“How did you end up with this business, then? If you’re running an escort service in Kissing Ridge, I’m sure I would’ve heard of it by now.” He chuckles. “Cowboys gossip like you wouldn’t believe.”
With a sigh, I lean back in my chair, feeling inexplicably more than comfortable with him. Without his hat on and his boots out of sight, I can pretend he’s just another guy with nothing in common with Chase. He’s easy to talk to. There’s just something about him that has me spilling more than I usually would.
“I don’t run an escort service. I build romance. Sex workers have a negative stereotype.” I notice Jackson hasn’t sneered or shown anything other than an openness to listen. So I keep going. “The men who hired me weren’t always just looking for sex. Some were, but most wanted someone to make them feel loved and cherished. To feel like they mattered to someone in a world that was far too quick to dismiss them. If it led to sex and they wanted that, then I provided it. But you’d be surprised at how many men simply wanted to feel good about themselves in a non-sexual way.”
Jackson nods along, riveted by my words, and I should feel relieved that a man I’m interested in seems to not care about all that. Instead, he shifts forward with a genuine smile on his face.
“That’s a kind thing to do, Riley. What is Wild Romance then, exactly?”
“Well, the simple answer is that I love fairy tales. This is me making them come to life for people. I plan wedding ceremonies and receptions, proposals, and romantic dates for those who want to surprise someone special. Anything to make a magical moment. I love romance and love.”
Jackson’s cheeks flush under his scruff, and he ducks his head. Something about his demeanour just sucks me in, and instead of keeping my walls up, I’ve poked a hole in one to allow a bit of light in.
“I just want to not trip over my words. To meet someone who doesn’t mind staying home and cooking dinner together instead of going out. I like a simple life and it’s hard to find that.”
He raises his gaze again, and our eyes meet. Jackson’s tongue pokes out, licking his lips before biting his lower lip.
“And you’d like me to coach you on how to do that? To find someone like that?”
Jackson remains silent for a few beats before he finally speaks.
“I’d like you to be more than my coach. Would you…I mean, I wanted to ask you on an actual date today, but I was late. You’re very, um, I like how you look.” Jackson wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “I mean, you’re the kind of guy I’d like to ask on a date, but most of the time, I just say something weird and…yeah.” He snaps his mouth closed again and my heart dances in my rib cage, unsure of what I’m potentially about to agree to. After all, this is my mystery man from the park. I want to know more about him for reasons I’m not ready to admit.
“It’s weird, but I feel like…like we’re already friends I guess.” Jackson’s lips tip in a small smile. “We shared hummus, and I told you I like Lady and the Tramp.”
I can’t fight the smile that brings to my lips.
“We did have hummus in the park together. I’d consider that a start of new friends.”
Jackson’s smile is what dreams are made of, and I like that I put that smile on his face.
“You’re right. We’re no longer strangers. So…Riley, would you like to go out with me sometime?”
Of course I want to date this man. He didn’t blink an eye when he learned I used to be an escort. He’s as hot as those Thai chilis my aunt dared me to eat once and he likes hummus. Not that hummus is on the checklist of boyfriend qualities, but it’s a definite plus in my book.
But… my gaze drifts to the cowboy hat on the seat next to him and I freeze. The small hole I poked in my walls gets plastered over.
“I don’t date cowboys.”
Jackson stares as his smile slowly drops and my heart squeezes.
“I don’t know who did you wrong Riley, but give me a chance. Not all cowboys break hearts. I think it means something that you’re the same guy I messaged to help me after we already met at the park.”
“So you believe in fate? ”
Jackson’s gaze slides from mine back to his hands. He squeezes his hands together repeatedly before twiddling his thumbs.
“I believe things happen for a reason. Sometimes we don’t know that reason right away.” With a sigh, he lifts his gaze to mine again. “This is the first time I asked someone on a date without stumbling over my words. I think that’s reason enough for me to believe we were meant to meet like this.”
Shit! Why did he have to say that? Why does he have to be so open and… good? And ridiculously cute.
“That’s great that you’ve already noticed improvement, then. You don’t need my help to get someone into bed.”
His eyes flash. “Have you even been listening? I want more than just a body between the sheets, Riley. I want romance too.”
The air in the room feels impossibly charged right now. He doesn’t need to confirm it, but I feel like Jackson just went beyond his comfort zone to say that.
“If I were to say yes.” His eyes light up and the giant smile returns. Damn man is so attractive it should be illegal. “If I were to say yes, where would you take me on a first date?”
“Well… would you come to a hydroponic gardening seminar with me? It’s not really a date event, but…I could use a friend to be there with me. It’s this weekend in Smokey Valley and I really don’t want to go alone.”
I almost laugh out loud but stop myself. He’s sincere. A date for a gardening show is what he really wants, and that’s… oddly charming.
He reaches down into the chair and sets his hat back on his head .
Fuck. Despite not wanting anything to do with cowboys, Jackson looks far too good. But hydroponic gardening? My interest in this man is more than piqued.
“I’ll check my schedule and let you know. Is that okay?”
Jackson nods and tips his hat.
“It’s not a no, so I’ll take it.” He holds his phone up. “You have my number. Think about it and text me.” He stands and, after a beat, says, “It was wonderful to talk to you today, Riley.”
Jackson leaves my office, closing the door gently behind him, and I collapse back into my chair with a whoosh.
Am I seriously thinking about a date with this guy?
As I google the hydroponic gardening show, I realize I’m not thinking at all.