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boots.
    There was half an inch difference in the heights of the two men, with Jackson having the slight advantage. Both men had dark brown hair and blue eyes with straight noses and clean shaven, angular jaws. Both carried themselves well on broad shoulders with lean, muscular torsos, tapering down to narrow hips. At fifty-seven, Bill Broussard was handsome and healthy, foretelling of Jackson’s odds of keeping his good looks and health for many years to come. They were the picture of rugged masculinity, resonating in sex appeal and quiet reserve.
     
    Carrie watched the two men enter the room and noticed several women turn to stare at them. She smiled, knowing they had no idea how appealing they were to the opposite sex. She walked over and gave Jackson a hug. “I’m glad you’re here.” Then she turned to his uncle. “Bill, you look absolutely scrumptious,” she said, walking into the man’s big bear hug. “Honestly, you two boys have every woman in this room drooling.”
    “Your ass,” Jackson whispered to her. “You look nice, though.”
    “She sure does,” Bill commented, gracing her with a smile. “Where’s old Sam? Is he ready to turn you over to me, yet?”
    Sam Langley walked up to the trio. He was an inch shorter than Bill, but just as broad shouldered and formidable of a man. He placed a possessive arm around Carrie’s waist. “It’s not up for discussion, Bill. Go find your own wife, this one’s mine.”
    Carrie laughed. “It’s no use, Bill,” she admitted. “He’s spoiled me for any other man.”
    Bill gave Carrie a wink. “If he ever stops spoiling you, let me know.”
    The three men shook hands.
    “It’s good to see you two. I wish it were under different circumstances,” Sam told them.
    “How’d it go this morning?” Jackson asked Carrie.
    “Our three girls were all here with her this morning, and I think that helped. They all had to go to work. They’ll be here on their lunch breaks. Are you ready, Jack?”
    “Shouldn’t we find out first if Giselle wants me here?”
    Carrie placed a comforting hand on his arm. “Don’t worry, she’s expecting you.”
    They walked into the viewing area and stopped near the front. Jackson saw Giselle standing to one side of the casket, speaking with an older couple. As soon as they walked away, Giselle turned toward him and gave him a weak smile.
    Jackson walked slowly up to her. “Giselle.”
    Giselle wiped her palms on her dress, seeming unsure of what to tell him. “I’m glad you came, Jackson.”
    “Are you alright with me being here? I don’t want to upset you.” He gazed anxiously into her eyes for signs of distress.
    She bit her lower lip and nodded. “I’m sorry you overheard what I said yesterday. I honestly didn’t mean that.”
    His head fell back in relief. “Thank you,” he murmured before facing her again. “How are you, physically, I mean?” He reached out to pull her hair back from her forehead. “You got a good sized gash.”
    “The head is fine, but the rib hurts. I’m taped up and the pain killer takes the edge off.” She held up a braced right hand. “Guess I won’t be going back to work anytime soon.”
    “Nobody expects you to, Giselle. Take all the time you need.”
    “How about you? No broken bones?” she asked.
    He shrugged it off. “A banged up knee and a few bruises.”
    Giselle touched his arm. “I’m sorry about Chloe, Jackson. If you told me, I was too out of it to remember.”
    “Not as sorry as I am about Toby. He was one of the best men I knew, and a damn good friend to me. I know for a fact, how much he loved his girls...All three of his girls.”
    Giselle blinked back the tears and wiped her eyes. “Thank you, I appreciate that.” She looked over at Bill and smiled. “I know you’re his uncle, but you must have been his dad’s twin, because ya’ll look so much alike. I’m Giselle Granger.”
    Bill shook her hand. “I’m Bill Broussard, ma’am. No, Jackson’s dad,