Falling For Jack

Bryony’s boots weren’t meant for running and Harry, although small, weighed a ton. Maddy beat her by a country mile. By the time Bryony puffed her way into the trial ground, Jack Morgan was listening to his daughter’s tale with an expression on his face that told Bryony he was trying to conceal anger that she was alone. Bryony could tell at a glance that he was furious.

‘I don’t understand,’ he was saying. The trial ground was deserted and, as Bryony reached the stands, she could hear every word. Then Jack looked across and saw her.

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Nice of you to join Maddy.’ It was sarcasm at its most pointed.

‘She ran ahead.’ Bryony tried to glare, but it was hard to puff and glare all at the same time. She stopped where she was—twenty feet away—and concentrated on her glare-puff technique. Then she checked out Jack’s disdainful glance and figured she didn’t have to be there at all. She’d seen Maddy back. Even if she had to puff a bit more to leave, it was worth it. This man thought she was a cross between a caterpillar and a maw-worm.

‘I’ll see you later, Maddy,’ she called between puffs. ‘Maybe at the next dog show. Thanks for helping me find Harry.’

‘Don’t you dare be at the next dog show,’ Jack growled, and even Maddy looked dismayed. But she grabbed her father’s arm and pulled.

‘No!’ Her voice was urgent. ‘I told you. We have to take Bryony home because she smells.’

She did smell, too. Jack remembered. She smelled really good.

‘Honey...’

‘The bad dog got cow muck all over her and then a man sprayed her with the hose and now she and Harry smell so bad that Fiona’s mummy won’t take her in the car. Bryony has to sit with the cows until someone comes with a truck, and that won’t be for ages and we have a truck.’

Jack stared down at his little daughter. Then, slowly, his eyes moved again to Bryony, and he registered what Maddy had been trying to tell him.

Bryony’s hair was sodden. Her white clothes were stained green and disgusting. The dog in her arms was even worse. If he’d tried for the rest of his life to think of a suitable punishment for this woman, he couldn’t have come up with a better one than this. She was foul.

Or maybe...maybe not quite. Bryony was mired and wet and out of breath, but she stood, her chin tilting with defiance and her green eyes flashing—and Jack thought suddenly that he’d never seen anything more beautiful. Or more ridiculous.

‘She says she can go in one of the dog houses on the back of the truck, but she can come in the front of the truck with us, can’t she, Jack?’

Jack’s shoulders shook.

‘Don’t you dare laugh,’ Bryony said carefully.

‘Why not?’ Jack’s eyes twinkled with pure Machiavellian enjoyment ‘You appear to have met your just deserts.’

‘Thank you.’ Bryony spun on her heel.

‘Miss Lester.’

Bryony ignored him. She stalked away, boots squelching water, and three seconds later was stopped by a large hand on her shoulder. She wheeled around and discovered Jack’s wicked laughter directed straight down at her.

‘Whew,’ he said. ‘I can see Fiona’s mother’s point of view.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, with as much dignity as a lady with an armload of manured dog could muster. It didn’t help that Harry was wriggling fiercely, trying to get down to greet Jessica.

‘Will this help?’

Jack produced a collar and lead from his pocket—Harry’s. When Harry had slipped his collar, Bryony had dropped it as she’d tried to grab him back.

‘Someone found it in the grandstand and gave it to me.’ Ignoring the smell, Jack reached out and fastened the collar around Harry’s neck. Harry raised his eyebrows, wriggled his backside, and looked eagerly down at Jessica, still standing obediently at Jack’s side.

‘Your taste in women might be impeccable, but your choice of aftershave leaves something to be desired,’ Jack told him as he lowered Harry onto the ground with a ruffle behind his disreputable ears. The two dogs greeted each other with joy. Harry’s choice of aftershave obviously suited Jessica down to the ground. Jack wasn’t looking. He was looking at Bryony.

‘Can we drive Bryony home?’ Maddy’s voice was urgent and entreating.

Jack frowned.

‘Why?’

Blunt and to the point. Bryony couldn’t think of a single reason why he should.

‘Because I like Bryony,’ Maddy said stubbornly. ‘And it’s not her fault Harry’s bad.’

‘He’s not trained.’

‘You could help train him,’ Maddy said eagerly, but even Bryony thought that was going a bit too far.

‘Thanks, Maddy,’ she told the child. ‘But I’ll just go back to my cows and wait for Ian.’

Jack hesitated. ‘Ian who?’

‘McPherson.’

Jack’s face cleared. For some reason, the thought of Bryony meeting a man he knew as safely married eased a tension he’d hardly been aware was building.

‘Ian McPherson’s sowing crop this afternoon,’ he told her. ‘I passed him on the way here.’

‘I know,’ Bryony said politely. ‘But when he finishes he’ll come and get me.’

‘He won’t finish until dusk.’

‘Then I’ll wait until dusk.’

Jack sighed and ran a hand through his hair, barely lifting his hat as he did.

The knot of tension tightened again. There was something about Bryony Lester that told him he should pick up Maddy and Jessica and leave now, have nothing more to do with her.

But Maddy was tugging his hand with an urgency he’d never seen in the child before.

‘I like Bryony,’ she’d said.

Well, he didn’t like Bryony. A more useless, ornamental, smelly... She had great eyes. He didn’t like women’s eyes. He liked Bryony’s. She had great legs. Ditto. Her hair was fabulous! Oh, brother...

‘Come on,’ he growled. ‘I’ll take you home.’

Bryony bit her lip. As an invitation it lacked some polish. She should refuse.

But she was wet and she stank—maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to be hosed down. Despite her run, she was now feeling just a bit cold, and promising to get colder.

‘The offer’s good for two minutes,’ Jack said, seeing her look of reluctance. ‘We’re going home now. Take it or leave it.’