Wild About A Texan. Jan Hudson

sugar,” Jackson said, turning his smile up to high. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll take you someplace special for lunch. You like Mexican food?”

      “I love it, but I’d love finding a desk that I can afford even more. I really need one. Darn it, if we had been there five minutes sooner, I could have bought that one on Elm Street.”

      “The leg was broken. It wasn’t a good deal. We’ll find a better one, trust me. At least you got a bargain on that toaster. Two bucks ain’t bad.”

      She laughed as she pulled to a stop at the address she sought. “You’re the one who got the bargain. I can’t believe that you were arguing over fifty cents. Me, I can believe, but you? I thought you told me that you’d never been to a garage sale.”

      “Haven’t. But Grandpa Pete has trading days on the grounds of his store in East Texas. People have been coming to set up tables and booths there for as long as I can remember. They rent space from him and sell everything from used pots to goats. I learned dickering there, learned from a master. No finer horse trader than Grandpa Pete.”

      “Seems strange. I thought your grandfather was a millionaire.”

      He laughed. “Billionaire’s more like it, but he’s just plain folks. We all are. Nothing makes him madder than for one of us to start acting uppity.”

      “Uppity?” She smiled at the old-fashioned term.

      “Those are Grandpa Pete’s words,” he said as they climbed from the car and headed for the goods displayed along a driveway.

      Olivia spotted it immediately—a small Queen Anne writing table that had been painted a ghastly shade of green. With a little work—no, make that a lot of work—it would be beautiful. And perfect for her apartment.

      “Like it?” Jackson asked.

      “I love it,” she whispered. “Under that awful paint is a very nice piece of furniture. It’s exactly what I’ve been looking for—better actually.”

      “Great. Let’s get it.”

      When she looked at the price tag, she sighed. “I think the owner knows what’s underneath the paint. It’s sixty-five dollars. Even though it’s a steal at that price, I can’t afford it. I was hoping to find something for about twenty-five.”

      “Maybe we can dicker a little.”

      Jackson knew the outcome before Olivia said a word. Damned if she didn’t have tears in her eyes. It about tore his heart out. He’d buy her a hundred ugly green desks if she wanted them, but she was such an independent female, he knew better than to try. He’d found out early in the morning that she didn’t intend to take a penny from him, and if he didn’t hush about it, she’d turn around and go home right then. He’d kept his mouth shut after that.

      But, damn, he hated to see that wistful look on her face as she ran her fingers over the top of the table.

      “No go, huh?”

      Olivia shook her head. “I could only get her to come down fifteen dollars. You’re not considering buying that ratty thing, are you?”

      He held up the stuffed armadillo that he’d been looking at to kill time. “I might. I kind of like old Jake here. He has character, don’t you think? Grandpa Pete would love him, and he’s got a birthday coming up soon. Let me see if I can do a little dickering for him. And these beach towels.” He grabbed a couple of towels from the display table. “I saw a lamp over there that you might check out, too.”

      While Olivia was examining the lamp, Jackson made a quick offer to the plump little woman running the sale. She looked at him kind of funny, but she shrugged and agreed to the deal. He whipped out his wallet, paid her, and made his way back to Olivia with Jake and the towels under his arm.