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Chapter Seven
Jackson awoke with a groan, morning light streaming in from the open bedroom window where he hadn’t lowered the blinds last night. He hadn’t been capable of more than showering and dropping into bed after Nicole’s bartending skills had turned his world fuzzy.
Not fuzzy enough that he didn’t remember the number one thing on his to-do list for today though.
Ask Isabel for a date.
He stretched out on the bed and stared at the ceiling, grateful it wasn’t spinning as it had been last night. He had a mild headache, but nothing too crazy and he hadn’t puked up birthday cake and blue-tinged gin so that had to be a good sign. He’d be able to present a sober persona to Isabel and with any luck, he’d convince her not only to say yes to the date, but also make that date happen today. He’d had such a great time with her yesterday—even if half of Maplehaven had been there too—and he didn’t want to give her a chance to agree to a date then back out. The Isabel he’d known back in high school tended to overthink things. If given time, she’d find a hundred reasons to not go out with him.
He wasn’t going to give her that time.
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he took a moment to make sure hangover symptoms truly weren’t an issue. When his head didn’t pound out a drum solo, his stomach didn’t roll, and the room didn’t swivel around him, he figured he was good to get to his feet. Stopping in the bathroom, he washed up and neatened his short beard. Back in the bedroom, he pulled on a pair of tan cargo shorts and a rust-colored T-shirt he’d bought in Cairo that had hieroglyphics on it, spelling out I Dig Mummies.
He ate a light breakfast of toast and washed that down with some orange juice, not wanting to push it in case his stomach revolted. After brushing his teeth, he made a quick stop to the couch and his laptop to see if he’d gotten any emails about funding. As it was Sunday, he wasn’t surprised to find no return correspondences on his many inquiries, but perhaps Monday would bring news. He made a conscious decision not to worry about donors today. Instead, he’d enjoy Maplehaven and, hopefully, the company of the one person he’d never truly scrubbed from his heart.
Jackson surfed the web for a few to read some archaeological journal articles before he realized he was stalling. Manning up, he gave Christian a call.
“Hey, little bro,” Christian whispered when he answered.
“Hey. Why are you whispering?”
“Oh... I figured you’d be all hangovery and grouchy this morning.”
“Nah. I’m fine.”
“Nicole!” Christian yelled. “You didn’t get Jackson drunk enough! He’s totally fine!”
That volume hurt Jackson’s head, but not so much because of alcohol as it was because his brother was damn loud. “Jesus, dude. I hope you and Nicole pump out a pack of kids who are all as noisy as you are.”
Christian laughed. “That’s fine with me. We’ve got the farm. They can make as much noise as they want. We already know they’ll be the most damn attractive kids on the planet with this superior combo of genetics.”
“As long as you have it all figured out.” Jackson shook his head. “Listen, do you have plans for Zip and Clover today?”
“Do you want to borrow my horses to impress Miss Isabel?” Christian asked in a teasing voice that was so familiar to Jackson. “She agreed to the date?”
“I didn’t ask her again yet, but I wanted to have something planned for the actual date should she consent.”
“And horseback riding can be so romantic,” Christian said.
Jackson’s shoulders loosened a bit, happy to hear his brother agreed with his date idea. Romance and Jackson hadn’t had a long and prosperous relationship, but he wanted to do this right with Isabel.
Especially because he’d done it so wrong with her in the past. This date could be his redemption.
Or it could bury him for good.
“So... are Zip and Clover up for grabs today or not?” Jackson asked.
“For you, little bro, of course they are,” Christian said. “I’ll run out there right now and make sure there aren’t any stanky piles of horse shit around and give each of the horses a good brushing for you. What else do you need? A picnic lunch? Flowers? Mood music?”
“I think I can handle the rest myself,” Jackson said.
“Okey-dokey. Go with your Henley instincts. They led Landon, Donovan, and me down the right path.”
Right. But did Jackson have those same instincts? That maybe-he’d-been-adopted feeling crept over him again. Landon had his radio personality fame, Donovan was a natural protector, and Christian was super charming and funny. What special skill for attracting women did Jackson have? He was an archaeology nerd with obsessive tendencies when it came to his work. He didn’t think many women were looking for that.
He hung up with Christian and pushed to the edge of the couch. His next order of business was to go ahead and ask Isabel on the date. He stood, shoved his phone, wallet, and keys into various pockets on his shorts then put on his work boots. Squaring his shoulders, he opened his front door and stepped outside.
The sun instantly warmed him, but it wasn’t humid and a gentle breeze kept things from being too hot. While some parts of New England could be downright gross in early July, Jackson always remembered Vermont summers being reasonable. They certainly weren’t anything like being on a dig site in Africa where the beaming sun made mirages float before your eyes if you didn’t keep hydrated.
