Jackson searched for a glimmer of any kind of redeeming quality in the man before him, but he just wasn't seeing it. Jackson supposed Neil was a good-enough looking guy if you went for the never-dirtied-my-hands-for-anything city boy type. Golden blond haired and blue eyed, it was obvious he'd had a privileged background and now lived a privileged lifestyle. He drove a nice BMW, Jackson thought, but mentioned several times that he'd been about to go out this weekend to upgrade but his fiancée had begged off for some reason.

Jackson didn't understand why that would be an issue unless she was buying him the car, but whatever.

In general Jackson tried not to intimidate people with his size, but today he didn't do anything to diminish himself. Neil overcompensated by talking too loudly and bragging too much, but Jackson just let him run on.

They toured two small ranches, but they hadn't been right. When Jackson had gotten the idea to buy a chunk of land down here it hadn't been a huge sacrifice. The Lowell family had connections all over the state and came to Houston a lot for rodeos and futurities and the like. Emily had always complained that she didn't want to live on the Blue Star, which was several hours away from Houston. But if the ranch that was her home sat just outside of the city, he didn't think she'd have as much of an issue.

At least that was the reasoning he was using for himself right now. If she wouldn't come to the ranch he would bring the ranch to her.

The third property they looked at had potential but seemed small for the high six figure price.

"Oh, and the adjoining lot, another twenty-eight acres is for sale as well, by the same owner," Neil said.

"The larger piece is overpriced,” Jackson told him flatly, “but if he would throw in the second lot I would consider it."

The realtor's eyes widened at the thought of the potential, but he whipped out his smart phone and started typing onto the screen. "I'll have my assistant feel him out about that."

They looked at two more properties before Jackson reached his very tolerant threshold. There was no was getting around it, Neil Shepherd was slime.

Why couldn't Emily see the avaricious light in his eyes at the thought of a commission, and the single-minded determination to be the top dog? Neil talked about his fiancée as if she needed to be told what to do for everything. Several times Jackson almost broke into his complaining to stand up for Emily, but he didn't want to reveal himself yet.

When Jackson had Neil drop him off at the Martin training complex, his eyes gleamed even more greedily. Everyone in Houston knew the Martin family, as well as the money they controlled.

Neil mentioned that he'd never met Holt Martin, but Jackson ignored the not-so-subtle hint, climbed out of the car and walked away without a backward glance. The realtor would get back to him, he was sure. Jackson had a significant amount of money to spend.

Ignoring the text messages pinging his cell phone, he retrieved the colt Holt wanted him to train. The little horse was a good type, strong and smart with just a little hesitation. The perfect animal for Jackson to train.

As Jackson saddled him up to enter the ring, he debated when he needed to contact Emily. He'd driven past her towering office tower downtown to see where she worked but hadn't bothered to stop. He wanted the housing situation to be settled before he confronted her.

The horse did everything Jackson guided him to do, though the tasks may have been a little odd. They walked over tarps and around tires. The entire premise of training was based on the horse trusting everything Jackson told him to do. So far, he had a perfect heart and did more than Jackson instructed. Whoever had broken him—Holt, he assumed—had done an excellent job. Now it was up to Jackson to refine those skills.

As he loped him around the edge of the ring Jackson became aware that he had an audience. It didn't bother him. He'd performed before people many times and had even given a few clinics at the Blue Star. If he had a mic on he could tell the hands what he was doing and why. Well, maybe. Some of the things he did were instinctive and had no explanation other than his heart told him to do it.

It was the same with Emily. There was no manual for her, so Jackson was forced to do what his heart was instructing him to do.

When the colt began to get a little frustrated, Jackson took him back a step to something he'd already learned and mastered. He let him complete the task successfully then reined him up. It was always good to end on a positive note.

Holt stood leaning against the wall, smiling slightly. Jackson had learned that Holt always seemed to be smiling, no matter the situation. When he trained Montana, the colt he'd been given, Holt smiled. When the feed delivery was late and Holt was berating someone on the phone he was still smiling, but there was a darker edge to it.

Holt reminded him of Brock in a way. The job was going to be done and done well or there was going to be hell to pay.

"He's looking good," Holt commented as he fell in to step beside him.

"Montana has a great disposition,” Jackson told him honestly. “If you cultivate him correctly you'll make a nice penny on him."

They cooled the horse and settled him into his stall.

"Come up to the house with me and have dinner," Holt offered.

Jackson had no reason to say no. It had been a while since he'd had more than convenience food.

They rode a golf cart up a shaded lane to a massive ranch house. The tan stucco mansion would have seemed cold if it wasn't for the huge wooden beams that decorated the outside. Holt led them into a rear entrance. Jackson supposed it was a mud room, although that seemed not quite right. It was too pristine. He was used to nice at the Lowell's home, but this put even their home to shame. They walked into the kitchen and there were appliances on the marble counters he had never even seen before, let alone used. But there was also a warm, welcoming smell drifting through the air, and pans simmered on the enormous stovetop.

A curvy woman in her late twenties or early thirties entered the kitchen, smiling, and Jackson was confused. He didn't think Holt was attached to anyone, but the man gave her a burning look before his expression cooled.

"Gretchen, this is Jackson Windwalker. Jackson, Gretchen, my housekeeper slash nanny. She does everything I don’t think about,” he laughed, then glanced at the woman. “ Jackson is staying with us for a couple weeks till he gets some personal business sorted out. Hope you don't mind I invited him for dinner."

"Of course not, Holt. Holly is in her room but I'll call her. Dinner is almost ready."

He nodded and headed toward the double-sided refrigerator. "We'll just get a glass of tea while we wait."

Holt handed Jackson a frosty glass of sweet tea, then led him in to sit at a massive wood-planked dining room table.

"I'm happy with what you're doing with the colt. Are you making headway with your woman?"

Jackson grinned, caught a little off guard. "How did you know I came down for a woman?"

Holt returned his grin, dropping his hat onto the chair beside him. "Only a woman would make you consider moving hours away from your home and completely changing your lifestyle."

Jackson laughed, hooking his arm over the back of the chair beside him. "She's worth it, but she's with this city boy that doesn't know what he has."

Holt nodded in understanding. "So you're buying property here?"

Jackson nodded. "If she won't come home to me, I'll come to her. I can train horses anywhere as long as I have a place to do it."

"What are you looking for?"

Shrugging, he leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. "I'd love a hundred acres. Decent house. Doesn't have to be perfect but at least something I can renovate. Barn, training ring."

Holt blinked, his cool chocolate eyes considering. "What are you thinking of paying? Property like that isn't cheap in Houston."

"I know," Jackson agreed. "I'm comfortable up to three million."

Holt's eyebrows shot up and he laughed. "Damn, boy! Training horses has worked for you."

Yeah, it had. "I live on the Lowell place rent free and most of my horses sell over a hundred grand. Even after reinvesting in stock I still make good money. And it all gets socked away."

A considering light had entered Holt's expression. "Let me make a call or two. I might have a place for you to look at. Unless you're buddy-buddy with that realtor I saw dropping you off?"

Jackson laughed and shook his head. "Hell, no. That's my competition."

Holt threw back his head and laughed. "I like you, Jackson. That sounds like something I would do."

"I like you too, Holt. Thank you for having me here."

"You are always welcome. Even if you do get your own place."

A young girl about twelve years old entered the dining room. She looked like a softer, feminine version of Holt, dark haired and chocolate eyed. The girl stopped at a chair and gave Jackson a smile, but barely looked at her father.

"Jackson, this is my daughter Holly. Holly, say hello to Jackson. He's staying here a while."

"Hello, Jackson," the girl repeated obediently.

"Hello, Holly."

The girl looked uncomfortable to be there and Jackson wasn't sure why. Gretchen entered the room carrying several large platters of food. She set them on the table and urged Holly to sit down and eat. The girl did, frowning.

Jackson could have cut the tension with a knife and he had no idea what was going on between the Martins, but it wasn't his place to question.

Gretchen brought out two more platters of side dishes before disappearing into the kitchen. Jackson had thought that the woman would join them, but she didn't. Had he been wrong about the look between the two of them when they'd first come in?

The fried chicken was delicious, as good as Mama Lowell's, and by the time dinner was over he was stuffed. It was the best meal he'd had since coming to Houston, and when Gretchen returned to start gathering up the dishes, he told her so.

The young woman's cheeks flushed pink at the compliment and she inclined her head. "Thank you very much, Mr. Windwalker. I made plenty so if you'd like to take some to the apartment I can pack you a container."

Jackson knew when not to look a gift horse in the mouth. "I would love that, Gretchen. Thank you."

The woman disappeared back into the kitchen. Holly took the chance and disappeared as well.

"Are you hitting on my housekeeper, Jackson?" Holt asked, an edge to his voice.

Jackson looked at him for a long moment before shaking his head. "I'm not. My heart is already taken. Gretchen would make some man a wonderful wife, though. Don't you think?"

Holt scowled and looked like he wanted to push up from the table, but he stayed completely still. "Yes, I'm sure she would."

The conversation shifted and they were back to horses again and soil pH levels, and all manner of other things ranchers worried about.