Chapter 26 Jack #2
Color rises along her throat. She doesn’t look away, though. I love that about her.
“I did.”
“Good,” I say. “I needed to make sure I didn’t hallucinate it between page twelve and the sampling clause.”
A small laugh escapes her. “You’re not that far gone.”
“Feels debatable.”
She takes another sip of wine, then sets the cup down between her feet and folds her hands loosely in her lap. “Last night was . . . a lot. I think the adrenaline caught up to me.”
“So, you kissed me because of your neurotransmitters?”
Her gaze flicks to mine. “No. I kissed you because I damn well wanted to.”
“Okay,” I say, heart flipping. “Just checking.”
She looks back out at the water.
“I said yes to this marriage because it solved problems,” she says. “Because it meant the bank would take me seriously, and I wouldn’t have to dance five nights a week just to keep the lights on. Because it made Mirabelle feel possible again.”
“And now?”
“Now, it’s harder to pretend you’re just a very convenient asset.”
“Asset,” I repeat. “That’s hot. Say more corporate things about me.”
“I’m serious.”
“I’ve never been called an asset before. Usually, I’m a liability.”
She huffs, but her eyes soften. “I don’t know what the kiss meant in terms of . . . categories,” she says. “Fake marriage. Real relationship. Whatever. I just know that when I’m with you, I feel less alone in all of this. And that scares me.”
“Being less alone scares you?”
“Needing someone does,” she says. “Needing you does.”
There it is, right out in the open. I knew she was scared of me, but hell if I ever thought she’d admit it. Her mom walked out on their family. I know that. I know that makes it hard for her to trust people, but fuck, I want her to trust me.
I stood her up six years ago when I shouldn’t have. I asked her out, and I blew my chance, but I’ve regretted it ever since. I’m a changed man. I’m her damn husband, for God’s sake, and I’m here for good.
I don’t know how else I can prove it to her.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
She gives me a wary look. “If it’s about the time you fell off the roof at the inn and lied to Wells about it being ‘on purpose,’ I already know that one.”
“That was a controlled descent,” I say automatically. “And that’s not the secret.”
“Fine, tell me.”
“I’m already in this,” I say. “Whatever category you want to put it in. I’m not playing house because the paperwork says we’re married. I’m here because I want you. I want this. I want to be the person you need, and I don’t want that to scare you anymore.”
She gives me a sad smile. “I don’t think that’s a secret, Jack. You said as much at our wedding.”
“I said that I was doing this because I care about you and this town. But I want you, Isla. I want you so much that sometimes it’s all I can fucking think about.”
“I want you, too.” Her throat works. “But I’m not great at relationships. I’m great at orchards. I’m moderately good at dancing in six-inch heels. I’m a menace in kitchen renovations. But relationships? I tend to choose people who leave.”
“Is that why you chose me?”
“I didn’t choose you at all,” she says. “You just showed up in town and refused to go away despite standing me up.”
“Mmm, you got sucker punched. But so did I. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to give this a real shot now that we’re both ready for it.”
“In case you haven’t noticed,” she says, “we’re already married.”
“Oh, I’ve noticed. I notice every morning when I wake up in your guest room. Every time I see my name on the dorky little chore chart you made for the mudroom.”
Her cheeks flush. “The chart isn’t dorky.”
“It’s deeply effective,” I say. “I’ve never been more punctual with trash day in my life.”
She laughs, but there’s something shaky beneath it. “What if I screw it up? What if I screw you up? What if we try and it all goes sideways and then I’ve lost you and the orchard and my ability to look you in the eye without bursting into flames?”
“That’s a lot of what-ifs,” I say. “Here’s mine—what if we don’t try, and we spend the next sixty years walking around each other like roommates who once made a really good decision and then refused to enjoy it?”
Her eyes flick down to my mouth, then back up. “You really think sixty years?”
“I’m planning on living to a very annoying old age,” I say. “I’d prefer to spend it with someone who knows how to wield pruning shears.”
She makes a choked sound that might be a laugh. “I don’t know how to do this. The part where it’s not just practical.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I say. “We’re good at learning on the job.”
“You taught yourself plumbing on YouTube. This isn’t the kind of thing you can caulk over and call it done.”
“Hey, the inn still has hot water, doesn’t it?”
“Most of the time,” she says.
I reach up, tuck the falling piece of hair behind her ear. “Let me try with you. For real.”
A long pause stretches between us. I make myself stay quiet and let her have it. Out on the river, a pair of ducks cuts through the water, their wake spreading in soft V-shapes behind them.
Everything else feels held for a second—the slow current, the silver maples overhead, the ragged breath in my chest.
“Okay,” she says at last. “Let’s try.”
I slide my hand to the back of her neck and kiss her.
This kiss isn’t like the one in the kitchen, all surprise and sharp edges. It unfolds slowly, like something we’ve both already decided and are only now brave enough to say out loud. She leans into me, fingers twisting in the front of my jacket, and every part of me comes awake.
She tastes like Mirabelle wine and cherry ChapStick. I deepen the kiss, and when she makes a soft sound in the back of her throat, I swallow it like oxygen.
We break apart after a while, foreheads pressed together.
“This feels dangerous,” she says.
“Everything worth doing does.”
The breeze picks up, sliding under the edge of the blanket. She shivers. I wrap an arm around her and pull her onto my lap. Her legs bracket my hips, sweater riding up enough that my hands find the warm skin at her waist.
“Jack,” she murmurs.
“What are you thinking, freckles? You wanna go for a swim with the ducks?”
“No, the river’s freezing.” She looks down at me, eyes dark. “But I do want to stop thinking about contracts for a little while.”
“I can take your mind off it.”
“Yeah?” Her hands slide up into my hair. “How so?”
I kiss her again, trailing my mouth along her jaw to a spot below her ear. “Let me show you.”