After a hot shower, I’d pulled back on the jeans and shirt, for practicality. I headed down to the kitchen. Jackson hadn’t come back to the house, so I could only conclude that he was still tending to the sick horse.

I leaned into the refrigerator. A white casserole dish sat on the top shelf with a note taped to the top. “Rebecca, this is for dinner. Heat it in the oven for thirty minutes at 375.” I walked over to the oven and turned it on.

I hated to wait so long for the dinner to heat, but chances were, Jackson was still busy with Archie. When a horse had an upset stomach, or colic, then the animal had to be walked and kept on his feet. Rolling or lying on the ground could cause more problems.

I stuck the casserole, a tuna noodle delight, complete with crunchy topping, into the heated oven and headed to the sitting room. I realized that I’d gone more than a day without looking at my phone or computer, and it was pretty darn freeing. Growing up with my grandpa, it was the one thing he would scold me about. ‘Too much damn time staring a screen and not enough time looking at the world around you’. It was one of his favorite chants, and one I never forgot.

I sat down on the elegant tufted sofa and picked up a book that had been left on the corner table. It was Louis L’Amour, The Riders of High Rock, one of my grandpa’s favorites. He used to sit in his easy chair under his big brass reading lamp and read. It wouldn’t be longer than fifteen minutes of page turning before his head would droop, his chin would tuck against his chest and he would start snoring right along with his dogs. There had been many times back then when I’d yearned for my parents, but Grandpa filled a void that they’d left behind. It wasn’t easy raising a teenage girl, but he did a pretty damn good job.

I closed the book and held it on my lap as I rested my head back and shut my eyes. This weekend had been unforgettable. Tomorrow was Sunday, and Monday morning, I’d be back at work to start my crazy job schedule all over again. I would have to say my good-byes and leave this wonderful place. I wasn’t completely sure what would happen. I’d started something with Jackson that had felt like more than just a fun fling. The intimacy we’d shared had created a connection. Or, at least it had for me. Since I was terrible at reading men’s feelings, I had no idea how Jackson felt. I would wait and see how things went.

I should’ve been kicking myself for letting myself feel attached to him, but I wouldn’t have missed the last twenty-four hours for the world. They’d helped me recuperate some of that self-confidence I’d lost when Nate dumped me. I was no longer questioning why he left but smiling about the fact that he’d given up something awesome.

The aroma of tuna casserole was starting to fill the air. I walked into the kitchen. There was still twenty minutes on the timer. I decided to take a stroll out to the barn to see how the patient was doing and see if Jackson needed me to take over for awhile.

When I’d left the barn earlier, Jackson had led Archie out to the round pen to walk him around. The outside barn lights lit up the yard. The round pen was empty. A convertible Mustang was parked outside the barn. A strange vehicle for an equine vet, but then nothing around the Silk Stocking Inn was usual.

I headed toward the barn. Jackson’s laugh rolled out. A distinctly more feminine laugh followed. A woman vet would not be unusual, I reminded myself. I reached the opening and looked in.

Archie was standing in the cross ties. Not one, but two pretty women, a red head and a blonde, all dressed for a night of dancing, were standing in the barn talking and laughing with Jackson. He was too busy to notice me at first. Archie, who seemed to be feeling much better, lifted his head and snorted.

Jackson’s attention turned my direction. “Hey, Becca, told you he was overly dramatic. He’s fine. No vet required.” He was completely oblivious to the assessing looks I was receiving from his two friends. “This is Angie and Carla. They came by to see if I was heading to the bar tonight. Do you still want to go?”

I shook my head and swallowed back the dryness in my throat. I was such a knucklehead. A man like Jackson would have plenty of women waiting for him to dance or ride or do whatever. I was just a diversion for the weekend, a traveler with no commitment who would be gone on Sunday.

I pointed back over my shoulder. “No, you go ahead. I’m just going to go back.”

“Wait, Becca,” he called as I spun around and headed off toward the house. I heard him behind me and picked up to a run.

“Becca.” His long legs overtook me fast. He took hold of my arm and turned me toward him. “What’s wrong? They’re just friends.” He went to place his hand against my face, but I moved away from his touch.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Jackson. You don’t need to explain a thing. I’m just a little touchy. It’s been a wonderful day, and I have you to thank for it. You’ve helped me mend some, and I appreciate it. I know this was all just a weekend dalliance for you. It was silly of me to think differently.” A sob escaped my lips. “And now I feel extra silly for making a scene.” I tore off and ran for the house. Jackson didn’t follow.