Chapter 17
17
VIOLET
I gaze around Jack’s sundrenched kitchen, trying to read between the lines of his home.
Sure, there are polished stainless steel appliances from fancy companies. But there are also three sets of salt and pepper shakers – from Spain, England, and Las Vegas. There are artistic glass sculptures on a high shelf, and a stack of well-worn Italian cookbooks that judging from the age I would bet belonged to his grandmother.
This morning, before he got in the shower, he pointed to his closet and said to help myself to anything I wanted to wear.
It’s barely been a week, and he doesn’t care if I go rummaging through his private things? Jack is an open book.
I sip my coffee, wearing a pair of his blue boxer shorts and a navy button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to my elbows. When he comes into the kitchen, the first thing he does is laugh.
“I’ve loved everything you’ve ever worn. But that? Perfect finishing touch.” He tugs at the dark purple floral tie around my neck, then kisses the top of my head on his way to the coffee pot.
“I know you didn’t buy this. Where did you get it?”
“It was a sixteenth birthday present from my mother.” He shoots me a grin. “I love that you zeroed in on my very first tie.”
Jack pours himself a coffee, then leans on the counter, blowing across the surface for a moment before taking a sip. “You make it a bit stronger than I do. Wow. I like it.”
So wonderful that he always encourages me to do things my way. Even though he’s much older, he’s not set in his ways. He really is totally open to change.
This moment, being so comfortable in his home after the most incredible night last night, makes all my reservations fade away like morning mist.
“While you were digging in my closet,” he says, “I’m sure you noticed how much room there is in there. I could clear half of it in less than an hour.”
“What are you suggesting, mister?”
Jack takes a sip of coffee, leaning back. Does he even realize how freakishly sexy he is in that snug t-shirt and those gray track pants that leave nothing to the imagination? “I’m just saying. There’s plenty of space for plants in the sunroom. The gardening storage shed could be your potting area. There’s all kinds of potential here if a certain beautiful lady decides to move in with me whenever she feels ready.”
My heart hammers. He’s dead serious.
“I didn’t mean to shock you,” he says quickly, noticing my reaction. “It could be down the road. We could switch our schedules around so we’re working the same hours, and I could drop you off at the shop every day. Just…you know… When you’re ready. Or when your family thinks that’s a good idea.”
Part of my brain starts doing the quick math. My mom and sisters already like him, and the way he treats me. He is super insistent that I won’t interfere with his company, just improve it through greenery.
He has never once waffled in his determination that I am the woman for him.
I take a sip of coffee, then slowly stroll the three steps over to Jack. I set his mug down and place my hands on his chest. My chin tips up as I push my brain aside and speak from the heart.
No more hesitation. No more fear. I believe in our love, too.
“Jack.” My voice is faint, so he has to lean in to hear, his eyes locked with mine intently. “I love you. This is going to work.”
His grin takes my breath away. “Damn straight it’s going to work, baby. I love you so much. You and I are the best stock pick I’m ever going to put my money on.”
He kisses me with such force and passion that it’s dizzying. He squeezes me close in those thick, strong arms. “Luckiest man in the world. That’s me. It’s official.”
“Does that make me the luckiest flower girl?”
His finger tips up my chin. “As long as you’re my flower girl. Forever.”