Emily tried to keep distance between them. She really did. But every time she turned around Jackson was right there in her line of sight. He didn't crowd her, just seemed to be everywhere she planned on looking.

Or was she just fooling herself into believing that? Was her subconscious tracking him?

She was tired and grumpy and she was really trying not to take it out on Chad's friends and coworkers. They were all fabulous. Emily wished she had a group of friends like this, friends that would support you through anything. It was obvious several of them had known each other a long time. And it was obvious that the silver fox Jackson had put on the dominant black gelding was the boss of the company. People weren't being subservient or anything, but there was a definite deference there. Duncan rode with his new wife Alexandra, a stunning redhead who sat her mare like she'd been on one before.

The rest followed along behind, laughing and having fun with each other. Chad and Lora rode as close as they possibly could, and Mercy rode a smaller built black mare called Petunia. The horses were patient, but she wouldn't expect them to be any other way. Jackson had trained most of them, after all.

Thinking his name gave her gaze a focus and she looked at him. He'd moved his black and white paint without conscious thought to the head of the group, leading as always. The morning sun was shining on the long black braid hanging down his strong back. She used to braid his hair for him, every morning. It had been one of their little intimacies.

Clenching her teeth she looked away, out over the expanse of grassland they were riding through. She wasn't sure exactly where they were going but knew they planned to end at the Oasis. It had been stocked a few days ago with fresh beach towels and chairs, and at the rate it was heating up this morning, they were all going to want to go swimming.

They crested a hill and Jackson pulled Minko to a stop. Hundreds of red coated cattle were less than a mile away and seeing them all spread out like that really gave a person an idea of the size of the place. Emily had seen it all her life, but as she looked at the stunned expressions on some of the faces in the group, she could see how it would be pretty epic. Palmer pulled up on the bike and turned off the engine.

Jackson hooked a knee over the saddle horn, then rested his elbow on it. He went into a spiel about how many cattle they had and the size of the ranch, but Emily didn't hear any of it. She was too busy wondering how she could get Jackson to kiss her again.

No, you can't! You're engaged, damn it. Remember?

Emily struggled to get her emotions back in line. Jackson's kiss from the night before had flustered her and she needed to get her head back on straight. Hell, she probably needed to talk to Neil, too. Was a kiss considered cheating? It certainly seemed to carry an awful lot of guilt.

When she’d broken up with him years ago, Jackson had made her promise that if they hadn’t found someone to marry within ten years then they would come back to each other. That had been eleven years ago. Emily remembered shaking his hand like it was yesterday. The time had flown faster than she’d thought possible.

Reaching into her saddle bag she drew out her metal water bottle. Ice clinked inside as she took a big swallow.

Within a couple of hours they had wound around the main part of the ranch and back to the Oasis. Jackson opened the gate to let everyone through, showing them how to let their horses relax in the grass pen. Emily lingered at the end to shut the gate and smiled at John as he rode the four-wheeler through.

"You can ride that all the way to the pond," she called. With a wave he headed for the trail visible on the slope.

John didn't actually get in the water but he pulled right to the edge and watched everyone else play. Cheyenne and Sheridan and the rest of the kids arrived and it was last night's party all over again.

Emily sat on the upward bank, watching the kids play. She wanted to go down and get into the water—she had her suit on underneath her jeans—but it was fun watching people experience the Oasis for the first time. It was a pretty spectacular place, she had to admit. A true paradise in the middle of hot Texas.

One of the kids swung off the swing, sending up a huge splash and everyone laughed. Emily smiled too, because she herself had done it hundreds, if not thousands of times. It was one of those things that you wanted to teach your kids to do when you eventually had them.

Neil didn't seem especially motivated in the kid department, but it was early yet. They'd been together only a few months. They had time to iron out all those details. Though they didn't fit into her plans right this minute, she did want kids eventually. That was non-negotiable.

Neil was so wrapped up in himself that she wondered if he would ever give a child the attention it would deserve.

Sighing, she rested her head sideways on her drawn up knees, fighting a headache. Or was it heartache?

---

Jackson didn't know what had put that melancholy look on Emily's round face, but he wanted it gone. She was too beautiful to be sad. Her dark, coffee-colored hair was drawn back into a low ponytail to accommodate her hat and her pale blue-gray eyes were hidden by her sunglasses, but he could feel her sadness.

He glanced at the people around him. It was all couples and their children, families. Well, all except John, who still sat on the ATV. Good legs for him, Jackson thought with a grin. There was a man at the party last night that had had a wheelchair with tracks instead of wheels, like a tank. Not as fast as the four-wheeler but surely a sturdy ride. Maybe John would get one of those. Jackson could see how much he enjoyed being mobile off road.

His eyes flicked back to the slender woman sitting on the bank. He and Emily were almost a couple. Her kiss last night had spoken to him more than any denials she'd verbalized. Jackson didn't know if this Neil was a real person or not, but he couldn't imagine that calm, level-headed Emily would make up a relationship just to deter him. She knew what he was waiting on. And she had agreed to it almost eleven years ago.

It had taken him a while to see her for the person she was. Years ago when Brock had first invited him to the ranch, Jackson hadn't known what to think. The Lowell family lived a very different lifestyle than anything he'd ever seen before. His own home life had been abusive at best, torturous at worst. As a blue-eyed, pale-skinned Jicarilla Apache, he had struggled to fit in everywhere. Jackson's mother Faye had fallen in love with a white man when she was only eighteen and working at a small restaurant in northern New Mexico. That restaurant had catered to the oil and gas workers that had flooded the area in the seventies. Raymond Jackson, blond-haired and blue eyed, fair, had wooed Jackson's mother, made her fall in love, then left her pregnant when the work dried up and he moved on. Faye's family, pure-blooded for generations, had made her life hell. When they should have been caring for a traumatized young woman, they had forced her into a life of seclusion as her pregnancy had progressed.

In a startling act of bravery, she had named her child Jackson, after his father, though she had known that it would make it even harder for him to fit in.

The Jicarilla Llanero tribe had been in New Mexico for generations, reserved there with another Apache band, the Ollero. In general, though they'd been a warring tribe hundreds of years ago, they'd adopted a more welcoming, calm lifestyle. Everyone except his mother's family, Jackson realized eventually. They were as unforgiving and warring as Apaches had been in the old west. As a young child he hadn't understood why they behaved the way they did. He didn't understand why his blue eyes and paler skin had set him apart. At least not until his grandfather had relented and explained it to him.

Jackson remembered feeling stupid that he hadn’t noticed something so obvious. But he also felt relief that someone had finally let him in on the big, bad secret, and his grandfather had eventually become an advocate for him with the family.

Jackson's entire life had been a fight, though. His maternal grandmother had disavowed him, cursing him in public every chance she got until the day she died. She had been a foul woman, soured by a hardscrabble life. They'd struggled for every penny made, every morsel of food bought, and Jackson's blue eyes were a constant reminder to her about the white man's oppression of them as a tribe. Most of the family had believed as she had, and excluded Faye and Jackson as much as they could.

His mother, his only true advocate, had seen the danger of their situation. Working in the restaurant had shown her the value of education and independence, and she had realized that Jackson would not be able to live his life fully on the reservation, so, she'd broken away.

It had been hard the first few years. His mother had had no real skills other than waitressing, so she'd worked several jobs to keep them fed. Jackson had had to learn to take care of himself from about age five on, because his mother had not always been able to pay for child care. They'd worked things out, though, the two of them, and been a strong team for a long time.

Then, when he'd been about eight, his mother had met another man, Warren Tiller. Warren had seemed like the answer to his mother's late-night prayers. Within just a few weeks they had moved out of their one bedroom apartment and three hundred miles away into Warren's two bedroom house in the city. Jackson had started in a new school district and his mother had been able to give up both of her waitressing jobs to stay home and take care of them.

For a while things had gone well. Warren had seemed to be in love with his beautiful Native American wife and accepted her for who she was. Slowly, though, things began to go sour. Looking back years later Jackson thought it was because his mother hadn't been affectionate enough to her new husband. The Jicarilla Apache were a reserved people. There were no public displays of affection. Married couples might share a glance, but they definitely never touched, especially the older generations. Though his mother had left that life, some of those habits were ingrained within her.

Or perhaps it had been Warren's drinking that had ruined the relationship. Warren worked with men who liked to drink in their time off, but even when he wasn't out with the rest of the guys, there was always a bottle or case of something at hand. Warren's emotions when he was drinking were volatile, to say the least. In general he was laid back and friendly, until you angered him, then he was a beast to try to control.

Jackson had come home one day to find his mother sprawled across her bedroom floor, bleeding, her clothes ripped from her. It was obvious she had been raped. He'd helped her to the bed, but she had refused to call the police or get medical care. Warren had stayed gone for the better part of a week, then he'd returned apologetic, bearing flowers and a diamond necklace. His mother hadn't exactly welcomed him with open arms, but Jackson had thought she forgave him too easily. No man should treat a woman like that. It had been the beginning of a vicious cycle of life. Warren would get drunk, abuse his wife, then leave for a while. They'd both cool off, then he'd come home and it would start all over again.

Then Jackson’s life took an even more dangerous turn. His mother had started drinking.

Jackson shifted restlessly, moving down to the water to splash himself. Then he moved to one of the coolers and dug out a bottle of water. He drank it down with barely a pause, then stared down at the ground, memories haunting him.

Their fights had become more and more vicious. Jackson had tried to stop one of the melees once, and he'd ended up in the hospital with a broken arm and a cracked skull. His mother, his friend, had slowly faded in front of his eyes and he had no idea how to get her back.

It was no loss to Jackson when Warren committed suicide in the back barn one night in a drunken stupor. Jackson had thought good riddance but his mother had been heartsick and she never fully recovered. It had been even worse when she'd realized how much debt Warren had accumulated. They'd had to auction almost everything off just to break even. In an effort to get away from memories, she'd packed up the few things they'd kept and driven northeast, into Texas. That had been during Jackson's sophomore year of high school.

Jackson wasn't sure why she'd settled on Honeywell, but he'd always be happy she did. It hadn't been long before he'd met Brock Lowell at school. The other boy had been brash and handsome, dating all the pretty girls. That had been the first time Jackson himself had gotten some positive attention from females, just from hanging with Brock. He'd finally begun to grow into his long legs and big hands, and girls thought he looked exotic with his sharp cheekbones and Native American coloring, but even then he'd realized how superficial it had all been. He'd been happy to hang back while Brock played.

He and Brock had been fast friends, and it wasn’t long before Jackson fell in love for the first time—with the Blue Star Ranch. There was space to do what he wanted, and plenty of work to do. The animals didn't care what he looked like or who his parents were, only how he treated them. He loved being outside under the stars and riding horses. It felt natural, like he'd found a limb he hadn't been aware of losing. For the first time in his life he felt his life being guided in a direction that was good for him.

His mother found a new job as a secretary, but she hadn't been happy. Which meant that she continued to drink. Jackson thought that the change of scenery and the acceptance she found in Texas would be enough, but it wasn't. After almost a year, she couldn't hide her alcoholism anymore and she lost her job. She did a few odd jobs, but nothing ever seemed to work out. By that time Jackson was earning some money from Brock's dad for doing ranch work. He had a natural affinity for horses so Garrett hired him to train some of the yearlings, on the condition that he finish school.

No one had ever believed in him that way, or trusted him with something as valuable as a horse, so Jackson had done his very best to prove to Garrett the kind of man he could be, would be.

When he wasn't working, the family had accepted him as a valued friend. He ate dinner with them as often as not, and got to know Brock's younger sisters and brother. Cheyenne was fun and a little on the crazy side, always getting into scrapes and near-misses. Chad was fun as well, but had a softer heart. And Emily... well, she always had her nose in a book but when she'd finally taken time to interact, Jackson had been impressed. She was extremely intelligent and kind. She'd always seemed to sense when he felt out of place or lost.

Like when his mother had died.

Doctors told him later that she'd had liver issues for years, which he hadn't known about. She had kept all of that secret. There'd been no cure, of course, other than to stop drinking. And she hadn't been willing, or maybe even able, to do that.

So, at the age of seventeen he'd been alone and adrift. Emily and her sweet, accepting disposition had been a balm to his aching heart. Even if it was just sitting next to her while she read to him, or working a colt with her watching from the rails, it eased him. Jackson was aware that she'd developed a bit of a crush on him, so he was very cautious to keep a distance between them about certain things. He didn't talk to her about girls that he was dating, or what he planned to do after he graduated. No need to get her upset about something that might not happen. After a few years, though, it was obvious she expected something to happen. And Jackson had to admit that he'd thought about it as well.

At the time, he'd been worried about his position on the ranch. Garrett had taken him in and practically raised him along with his own boys, but Jackson was always aware that his position was tenuous. There was no blood tie, no familial tie, just the word of a good man that he was welcome. If Jackson wronged the youngest daughter, he doubted he would have been welcome. He also wasn't completely comfortable with the fact that she was his best friend's kid sister and he was several years older.

Emily hadn't had as much interest in the ranch as the other kids, she was too focused on her grades, but she'd hung around enough to be a part of the group. Jackson had been very careful in the way he'd interacted with her. Friendly, but not too friendly. She needed to be older. Though there were only six years between them, when you're younger it feels like such a gulf. Over the years, though, they'd become closer than ever. Jackson took her gentle looks and soft accidental touches, basking in them because he'd never felt them before. Then, one night, standing under a heavy moon, she'd leaned up and kissed him. She’d been seventeen then. It had been the kiss of a virgin, searching and inquisitive. Jackson had stood stoically, doing his best not to respond, but it was the hardest thing he'd ever done in his young life.

The next night when she'd come to the paddock and kissed him again, he hadn't been able to deny himself any longer. He kissed her back, being sure to keep it as cool as possible. It hadn't stayed like that though. Over the next two weeks things had heated up until she'd arrived one night and he'd kissed her the way a woman needed kissed, then let her go. But she came to the paddock bathed in moonlight again the next night. And the next. And he'd been helpless not to show up to meet her.

Jackson was only so strong and it hadn't been long before they'd slept together, two young hearts learning the ways of their bodies. Jackson had taken the best care of her he could, making sure she found her release over and over again. But though he'd taken careful steps to protect his heart, something about her had drawn him back again and again. Before long they were in love, practically attached at the hip. Jackson worked the ranch with one eye on the main house, waiting for her to appear every afternoon.

Their relationship hadn't stayed secret long, but Jackson had done his best to stay respectful with Garrett. Then had come the day when Garrett had pulled him aside. "Are you dating my daughter?" he'd demanded.

Jackson had swallowed heavily, fearing that he was about to be turned away from the only home he'd ever known. "Yes, sir," he'd admitted. He remembered how he had sucked in a breath and straightened his spine, waiting for a fist to fall at his daring. But it hadn't happened.

"I think you'd be good for her," Garrett had said, resettling his hat on his head. "Be sure to get that steer from the far paddock back with the herd. He's been babied enough."

Jackson could remember the scene like it had happened yesterday, though it had been eleven years ago now. He'd told Emily about her father, and she'd nodded. "He would love to marry me off."

"I don't think it's a bad idea," he'd admitted.

Jackson hadn't expected to find anything like what he'd found with Emily, so her response had felt like a knife to the gut. "Oh, I'm not getting married for years. I have to get through college and get my business degree, then I'll think about starting a family."

Her face had been shining with enthusiasm and he'd shoved down the hurt, feeling betrayed. But sharp Emily had seen the look. "I'm sorry, Jackson. I have to see what I can become in this world. The ranch is not for me."

Again, whether she'd meant to or not, she had gutted him. He couldn't imagine doing anything other than ranching and training horses. It was everything that appealed to him, being outside under the boiling sun, working with animals and going to bed tired and satisfied after a hard day’s work. It was what the spirit guided him to do.

That conversation was how their bargain had come around.

"You doing okay, Jackson?"

Blinking, he looked at Chad. How long had he been staring at Emily, trying to get her to look at him? How long had he been remembering the past?

"I'm fine," he said, lying through his teeth.

Chad seemed to sense all wasn't well, because he gave him a sad smile. "Why don't you go talk to her?"

Why didn't he? "Because I want to yell, right now. Watching all of you with your families is hard," he admitted. Only with such a close friend would he ever admit such a shameful thing.

Chad nodded, looping the beach towel over his shoulders. "I can understand that. I don't think she's leaving till tomorrow, so you have some time."

Tomorrow. Less than twenty-four hours. Gritting his teeth, he turned away, heading for a lone chair.

His restless nature wouldn't allow him to be still though. And the knowledge that Emily was leaving tomorrow, in spite of the closeness they shared, was like a burr under a saddle pad. It chafed like no other sensation.

If he was under this much duress, she deserved to be too.

Pushing up from the chair he walked across the ground, the fine rocks and sand accommodating the soles of his bare feet. Though he hadn't gone swimming with the rest of the group, he had made himself comfortable by shucking his boots and socks and stripping down to his tank top. When he sank down beside her on the bank, she looked up in surprise, and her gaze seem to be caught by the sight of his bare skin. Deliberately, he let his arm brush her own as he folded his legs beneath himself.

"Are you going to swim?"

She shook her head, letting her hair fall to hide her eyes. "I'll let them enjoy it."

Jackson thought as much, but he was disappointed. "I was hoping to see you in your bikini."

Her face jerked up and color washed over her cheeks. "You would!" she laughed. "I wore a one-piece today anyway. You still would have been disappointed."

"Never," he told her firmly. "The hint of a woman's body is sometimes more enticing than bare skin."

And it was true. Thoughts of Emily’s curvy body had woken him many nights in the years since she’d left. Cradling her to him last night would only feed more fantasies.

Her gaze flickered, landed on his arm again so close to her, and jerked away. "Mm," she hummed.

Jackson knew he was well-built, tall and strong like his grandfather, and he remembered the feel of Emily's slender fingers as she glided her hands over his skin. She'd told him that the burnt-caramel smoothness entranced her.

Jackson leaned close enough to her that she surely felt him, and she looked up again. "What do you want, Jackson?"

He lifted a brow at her in censure. "You know what I want."

Her lips tightened and she shook her head, straightening her position. "It's not going to happen. I'm engaged."

"I know nothing of the sort. If anything, you're engaged to me. That city man is just a delaying tactic."

She drew back, her mouth open in affront. "Jackson! No, he's not. Neil is a career-driven, intelligent man. We'll build a beautiful life together. I'm sorry if that hurts you, but you need to get used to the idea. Yes, we had a wild, passionate affair when we were younger, but that's over now. The bargain we made was cute at the time, but not practical."

Jackson refused to let her see the hurt that rolled though him. Affair? Their relationship had been passionate and absorbing, and when she left, he’d considered it no more than a pause. There was no thought that she wouldn't return to him someday. "Do your knees weaken when he kisses you, like yours did last night when I kissed you?"

Her telling eyes flickered and she looked away. He drew a fingertip beneath the length of her arm and watched as gooseflesh raised the hairs on her skin. She shuddered with awareness.

"Stop it, Jackson."

"If you react like this to me, are you sure you're with the right man?"

She turned to look at him, finally, and Jackson felt bad about the tears in her eyes, but this was too important to sugarcoat.

"Neil isn't like you," she said softly, "I agree, but he's a good man. We're going to build a life together."

"Like we had planned to do?"

Jackson let the silence stretch until she looked away. "People change, Jackson. We were kids when we made that agreement."

"I've lived my life under the assumption that that you would be back when we agreed. You are Garrett Lowell's child, after all. You family has an excellent reputation for being true to their word. Are you going to be the first to break that?"

Her skin colored furiously and she pushed to her feet. "I'm not doing this with you, Jackson. We're done. I didn't pick you, so I understand why you're pissed, but that doesn't give you the right to question my honor."

With a furious turn, she stormed up the bank and through the line of trees. Jackson debated for just a moment before following. She was tightening the girth on her mare when he gently turned her around. There were fresh tears in her eyes, but he thought it was because she was mad now. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings," he told her softly, "but I planned on a very different life by now. You know?"

She nodded. "I understand that. But people change. I'm not the lovesick girl I used to be, and I don't think you're the man you used to be either."

Jackson didn't contradict her. He could see in her eyes that she was pulling away. Desperate to stop her, he reached out to cup the side of her head and pull her to him. Emily didn't say anything, as if she were humoring him one last time.

That sparked Jackson's anger, and he pulled her mouth to his own. Her gasp was satisfying, but it wasn't everything. He wanted her to lose herself in him. Jackson angled his head against hers, letting his tongue slip into the depths of her mouth. Emily moaned quietly, her fists curling into the cotton of his tank.

Jackson knew she would be aggravated about this later, and it might actually alienate her altogether, but he just couldn't help himself. It had been so long since they'd been together.

A shudder rolled through her, and she gasped in a breath. "We can't do this, Jackson, please."

He pressed kisses down the side of her neck, nipping at the thin skin over her throbbing carotid. Emily's hands moved up to cup his head to her and she pulled his mouth back up to her own. Then she seemed to realize what she'd done and she froze.

Jackson knew he'd lost her before she even pulled away. It was stupid of him to even try to coerce her.

With a final long inhale against her hair, he let her go and stood straight.

Emily blinked up at him, her eyes dazed.

The horse snorted behind her and she jerked, coming back to herself. Before his eyes, her entire demeanor chilled.

This time when she pulled away he let her go.