Chapter 11
eleven
Kaci
I can feel Jackson’s gaze behind us. Maybe that’s why my fingers have the urge to tremble.
As I guide Bella to the stuffing machine, my heart crawls farther up my throat.
She picked out a bear, the same golden blonde as Little B.
It’s not surprising, and yet it is. You’d think that after having the same bear all these years, she'd want something different.
“I’m getting a dalmatian,” Rigsby replies. “Just like the one I always wanted for real. And because they didn’t have a ferret.”
“That’s a good call.” Jackson chuckles as he comes up from behind me, leaning closer to talk near my ear. “And what are you getting?”
“Oh, none for me, thanks.” I shift my weight to the opposite leg, leaning away from him. It’s not that I mind standing this close to him.
I don’t.
I enjoy looking up at him and seeing the tiny lines in the corners of his eyes, but ever since my run-in with Chase last night, I’ve been overly self-conscious about how I smell, despite what Jackson said outside.
It's been a long day, and there’s nothing fresh about my makeup.
If I smelled like stress yesterday, I can’t imagine what I smell like today.
Jackson pulls an appalled face. “You have to get one too.”
“A stuffed animal?” A surprised laugh trickles up my throat. “I’ve long since outgrown those days. Now if you offer me a washer and dryer, then I’d be smitten,” I risk a joke and laugh at it.
“What’s your favorite animal?” His voice is insistent as he steps forward, surveying them.
My brain is numb. It’s been so long since I thought about what I like. “I don’t have one.”
“We need to fix that,” he murmurs and fake cringes like he’s in pain. “What about a favorite color?”
“It used to be purple, but honestly, I haven’t thought about it for a while.”
He waves toward the display of animals. “Come over here and pick something out, or I’ll choose for you—and don’t be mad if it’s a giant warthog.”
“They don’t have warthogs.” I chuckle as it’s crazy for him to spend money on a stuffed animal for me.
I never expected him to do that for Bella, and it’s wasteful to add another one.
“It’s a very sweet gesture.” I’m struggling to make eye contact.
I get it—he’s used to women fawning over him, and this is just how he flirts.
But I’m not in my flirting era. “What you’re doing for Bella is more than enough.
” When I hesitate to go with him to pick something out, he snatches my hand and pulls me forward.
“Stop being so stubborn. Get in line and pick one out.” His words accompany a lighthearted chuckle, telling me he’s happy to do this.
I don’t know why it is so hard for me to accept one kind gesture.
Maybe it’s another one of those things that has been so long since it happened, I’ve forgotten how.
Or maybe it’s because when Chase would find a rare occasion to do something nice for me, he’d later hold it against me.
I just don’t ever want to be vulnerable like that again.
Plus, he’s still holding my hand, and it’s sending waves of heat up my arm.
All it takes is for his thumb to brush against my palm, and my shield against him starts crumbling. What is going on? I look at him, and he stares at me as if he’s challenging me to drop his hand. All other senses completely shut off, I’m only aware of the sensation of having his skin against mine.
A bubble of nerves swells in my gut. It’s light and airy, making me want to giggle—man, I haven’t felt this in years, if ever.
Whatever this sensation is, it seems to block my memories.
I can’t remember any interaction before this one.
I’m not sure that anything is real beyond the heat radiating from his hand.
I could so easily close my eyes and melt into these tingles, but—but—but my brain slams to a wall, instructing me to step aside.
I drop his hand.
Nothing dramatic.
Just making it known that we aren’t going to be holding hands like two teens. I step aside. There’s no point in messing around and flirting with each other.
His eyes flick to the wall of animals. Without asking me a second time, he looks at the guy working and says, “She’ll have a butterfly.”
My words asking why cling to the edge of my tongue.
My heart rapidly pounds against my rib cage.
He’s playing a game. I don’t need to get sucked into it.
I never dated much, but the few guys I did date only wanted to use me.
It took me a long time to see that clearly.
I’m not going back to that—even if my hand is still tingling.
It isn’t like me to be smitten because of a guy paying attention to me.
I don’t fall easily.
I don’t fall at all.
I’m practical and spend all my time doing mom things.
I don’t get giddy over a guy buying me a stuffed animal.
Jackson is oblivious to the invisible boundary I’m trying to draw. He leans down, almost brushing his lips against my ear, and says so softly at a candle-blowing out level—“A butterfly because that’s what you give me.”
My eyes slam shut, and I scream in my head, trying to silence his words but I heard them all.
Somebody put this guy in a penalty box.
The last thing I need is for some dude to play me. Even though I pride myself on putting up a thick shield, I’m quite fragile underneath. Flirting, even a little, isn’t helping my shield. I once again step aside, asserting my position away from him.
We move along the line, and I focus on Bella until we get to the heart station.
I’ve never seen this before, but apparently you pick a heart to place inside the stuffed animal.
Jackson’s eyebrows pitch in anticipation as he looks from Rigsby to Bella, and says, “You have to make a wish on your heart. It’s part of the ceremony. ”
The kids both go right up, and whisper into their little plastic hearts before stuffing them into their animals.
My heart aches as I watch Bella so easily excited about this.
She’s glowing, and I know she’ll talk about this part for a long time.
I start to follow them to the final station, but Jackson stops me, “Kaci, you forgot your heart.” When I risk a look in his direction, I see he’s taken it upon himself to grab a heart, and he’s holding it out to me.
“You have to make a wish before it goes in the butterfly.”
“What are my options?” I wince. I meant it sarcastically—to hint that I don’t have much luck—but I didn’t intend to ask for his advice. Maybe he’ll drop it?
Not my luck.
“Go big.” He swallows, marking another thought before he adds, “What is your biggest dream?”
“Um, just to finally graduate from college and get a teaching job. Have a normal schedule for Bella.”
“Bigger,” he whispers, his gaze spiraling at me.
A laugh cracks out of me. “It’s taken me eight years to get through college. What is bigger than that?”
“That’s logistical stuff about life. Look at this just once.” He extends his hand, trying to get me to take that stupid plastic heart. I glare at it. This must be some sort of line or setup. He asks, “What does your heart want?”
This is so completely insane.
He’s holding my little plastic heart in his hands, but it might as well be mine—the way it feels it’s chipping away at a wall around my own. The way he’s looking at me, with his gaze so intensely focused on me like he might actually care what I have to say, a shiver runs right through me.
“To be happy,” I say, raising then lowering my shoulder. There is no way I’m going to even think about anything else—let alone tell him, a stranger just ten hours ago, what my heart desires in any detail.
Even if I knew myself.
He holds up the heart, pressing it almost against the tip of my nose. “Once it’s sealed in the butterfly, it can never change.”
Another chuckle bubbles to the surface, this one nervous. I’ve never had someone talk to me like this. His eyes are even smiling, yet appear serious as if warning me not to take this silly tradition lightly. “I mean, obviously there are things I want, but I’m not going to say them out loud.”
“If you can’t be honest with me, at least be honest with your heart.” He pushes the heart toward me. I open my palm just in time to receive it, and his fingers brush against my skin. He pulls away, but all I can think about is how I want to touch him again.
What is wrong with me?
Get it together. Kaci.
What would I wish for anyway?
To be his wife. Ope! Where did that come from?
That was clearly left over from his comment earlier.
It doesn’t mean anything.
It can’t mean anything.
I shudder, then realize it’s not really a shudder—more like a glowy, warm feeling, and the tingles return. I’m smiling like I’ve been given laughing gas.
Stop it, Kaci.
It’s a stupid plastic heart for a silly stuffed animal, and this guy is just a player who wants some attention.
He’d take attention from anyone. I just happen to be the girl standing in front of him.
That’s it.
Part of me wants to believe I can impart a wish on this plastic heart, and somehow it will set plans in motion. That’s all silly. I take the heart and push it into the butterfly, pulling my gaze from Jackson’s.
Maybe this works on all the fangirls he hangs out with, but I live in the real world. I’m not going to swoon over this.
When our stuffed animals get the final stitch, Bella lifts her new bear to her chest. squeezing it so tightly, I wonder if we should have doubled the stuffing.
Her eyelids flutter shut as she presses her lips to the top of the bear’s head, kissing it over and over.
It’s surreal to see her show any affection to an animal that isn’t Little B.
I never thought this day would come. Considering the circumstance, I’m overcome with gratitude. At least she’s not heartbroken anymore.
So, maybe Jackson’s idea worked?
Not as well as he wanted. It clearly didn’t fully sway me into thinking he is Mr. Wonderful, but Bella is in love with her new bear. For that I’m relieved. And grateful as my mama heart is full.
“Alright, Bella, baby.” I reach my hand out, waiting for her to take it. “I’m glad you got a new bear, but it’s been a long day, and it’s finally time to go home.”
I turn and head toward the door when Rigsby’s voice rings out from behind us. “Do you think we can ride the carousel in the park before we go home?”
“Carousel?” Jackson repeats, his voice laces with confusion. “Since when is there a carousel down there?”
“I don’t know but look.” Rigsby’s finger juts forward, pointing to a decent-sized carousel. I don’t remember seeing it before, but a few food vendors set up around it, making it look like a winter carnival.
Bella’s eyes widen when she catches a view of the colored lights. “Can we go, Mom?”
Checking my phone for the time, I confirm it’s almost dinner time, but this day has been such a mess already. Why try to salvage it now? I shrug, giving up. “Sure. Why not. One ride.”
“I got this one.” Jackson’s already handing cash to Rigsby, and with his other hand, he reaches around me, grabs the door before I get to it, and holds it open until we’ve all walked through.
When I pass in front of him, I get a whiff of his scent.
It’s strong and masculine and doesn’t smell like dirty dishes.
I hate that I’m so hung up on that one thing Chase said to me. I’m not normally bitter like this. It’s just insane how someone can say a million things to you, but the one incredible mean thing is the one that sticks.
I stare forward as I walk, refusing to look at Jackson.
I’m not crushing on him.
No way.
I don’t crush.
I don’t even crack.
All of this is going to be over in the morning, because we’ll never be forced to hang out together again.
The kids race toward the carousel as if they’ve been best friends their whole lives. Even though they’re moving at top speed, my brain slows their steps, and I capture them in slow motion.
I never wanted to have another baby—not after struggling so hard to raise Bella, but seeing her have a ready playmate makes my heart twinge.
As if reading my brain, Jackson says, “They get along so well.”
“Partners in crime.”
He throws back his head and laughs as if I said the funniest thing and not the most obvious. Then he looks at me, and his lips curl. “I might be looking for a partner in crime, myself.”
“Stop.” The thought comes to me first, and I can’t believe I actually say it.
By the time I realize what I’ve done, it’s too late to take it back.
Now I have to defend it. I glance up at him, blinking a few times as I struggle to explain my outburst. “I uh, I get it. You’re handsome.
You are probably used to women flirting with you, but I just . . . can’t.”
I wait for him to smugly smile and tease me about how I said he was handsome. I set myself up again.
That’s not what happens.
He reaches out like he wants me to take his hand, and I stare at it.
No, I glare at it.
Did he not hear my speech about how I know he gets all the women? It doesn’t work like that. I’m not going to take his hand and skip off toward the carousel.
It’s such a preposterous thought that I snort right as his fingers brush against my arm.
His touch unleashes the butterflies, but these are not normal ones. They are warm, igniting something deep in my gut. Part of me is stung by the sensation, but the other half is too curious to see what this guy thinks he’s doing.
He can’t just touch me.
I’m not his.
My brows lower as I watch his hand move up my arm.
I could slap it away.
Should I slap it away?
Before I can expound on that thought, his hand cups my cheek.
Whoa, now I’m really wondering what he’s doing, but I’m frozen in place, unable to ask.
His breath is level with mine, and a magnetic force takes over, pulling me closer. Now I’m kissing a man I just met this morning.
Oops.
As his lips surround mine, pulling me into his warmth I melt into them.
Maybe not oops?
But whatever this is needs to stop before…before…I forget I don’t like him.