Chapter 9
Nine
CAITLIN
To Caitlin’s utter and complete surprise, Jason ended their string of text messages with a tomato emoji. A tomato . Of all the things.
It wasn’t a heart, or a winking face, or even a simple thumbs-up. No, the gruff, brooding man she’d spent far too much time trying to decipher had sent her a tiny, ridiculous, bright red tomato. It was so unexpected, so absurdly cutesy for him, that she had to laugh.
Because Jason? Being even remotely playful?
That was something special.
She curled her fingers around her phone, staring at the screen for a moment longer than necessary, replaying the entire conversation in her head. Every message. Every reply, reading so much into it like some overzealous girl. Every little hint of interest was hidden beneath his usual standoffish demeanor. And then that kiss...
Oh, that kiss .
Jason had cornered her, quite literally—roped her in with that slow, sinful smirk of his, lured her to the kissing booth like some kind of romance novel hero with a hidden agenda, and then completely and utterly ruined her.
That kiss had shattered every expectation, every cautious wall she’d tried to keep in place. It had curled her toes, thumped her heart against her ribs like a war drum, and flipped her stomach so many times she’d lost count. She hadn’t stopped thinking about it since.
Or worse… feeling it.
Her lips still tingled at the memory, like some kind of phantom sensation. She swore she must have licked them a hundred times today alone, chasing the lingering taste of him—the warmth, the firmness, the way he’d taken control like he knew exactly what he was doing.
Which, of course, he did.
Jason kissed like a man with a purpose, like he was staking a claim; like he was making a statement she didn’t quite understand yet. And that was what rattled her the most.
Because Mr. Grumpy, No-Time-For-Romance, Responsibility-First, Unattainable Jason Baird?
He wasn’t supposed to kiss like that.
He wasn’t supposed to make her want him like that.
Yet, he had.
And now she was stuck trying to function like a normal human being while her brain short-circuited every five seconds with flashes of that moment—the way he’d pulled her close, the way his breath had hitched just before their lips met, the way his hands had tightened around her waist like he wasn’t ready to let go.
And then… the tomato.
The absurdity of it made her laugh again, a soft, breathy sound of pure disbelief. Maybe Jason was more of a mystery than she’d given him credit for.
Or maybe… just maybe… she was starting to crack his shell.
Still grinning like an absolute fool, Caitlin sighed, reaching for the small jar on her counter. "How’s my pretty girl, Mary Dough?" she murmured, tipping a careful quarter cup of water into her sourdough starter before stirring in the flour. "You behaving yourself today?"
The starter, obviously, didn’t respond. But that didn’t stop her from preening over it like a proud mother.
“Who’s a good girl?” she cooed, running a fingertip around the rim of the jar before setting it back in its place. "You are. Yes, you are."
If anyone ever overheard her baby-talking a bowl of flour, she was pretty sure she’d never live it down. But, whatever . Mary Dough was important, and a girl had to have priorities.
Tapping the spoon against the counter, she made her way toward the back door, pushing it open and stepping onto the tiny square slab of concrete she called a porch.
It wasn’t much—just a four-by-four concrete patch of space that barely had room for a chair and a potted plant—but it was hers. And after months of planning, sweating, and fighting back weeds with a vengeance, her backyard was finally starting to take shape.
The freshly tilled garden beds stretched out before her, dark soil ready for planting. But it was the fence line that had her frowning. It needed something. Something soft. Something beautiful. Maybe a climbing vine like honeysuckle or clematis—something that would bloom wild and unruly, just enough to soften the edges of the wood.
She needed to make a trip to the garden center soon.
She also needed to finish up her evening chores.
She also needed to stop thinking about Jason Baird and his stupid, perfect, toe-curling kiss long enough to be a functioning human being. Sighing, she crossed her arms, letting the warm evening air settle around her.
Maybe a tomato emoji wasn’t exactly a declaration of love.
But coming from Jason? Considering it wasn’t a simple text from him but a string of them, almost like he enjoyed the communication between them? He didn’t say bye. He didn’t say ‘see ya’…
He tomatoed her.
It was something, she thought, laughing softly and shaking her head.
* * *
Two days later, Caitlin was bound and determined to get her fall garden planted before the dog days of summer settled in with their merciless heat. The earth smelled rich beneath her feet, the sun warming the soil in a way that made her chest tighten with nostalgia. She could already hear the cicadas that would soon take over the evenings, their song buzzing through the air, thick with humidity.
Oh, she remembered those summers well—the way the sidewalks burned her bare feet, forcing her to make the impossible choice between risking the blistering asphalt or braving the scratchy, sun-scorched grass riddled with stickers. And when she wasn’t in town, she’d been that reckless, wild child running through pastures and creeks with Matthew, their laughter tangled with the scent of honeysuckle and cut hay. Looking back, it was a miracle she hadn’t ended up with snake bites or Lyme disease. Those days had been filled with racing bikes through endless fields of sunflowers, finding hidden pools in the creeks, the water cool and secret beneath the leafy arms of overhanging trees.
She sighed, wiping the sweat from her brow before reaching for a five-gallon bucket of honeysuckle. She hesitated, fingers curling around the plastic rim before she set it back down again.
“Oh, to be young and stupid,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head.
“Or,” a deep, familiar voice interjected, smooth as warm honey and just as dangerous, “gaining on middle age and somewhat ignorant?”
Caitlin jumped, her breath catching in her throat as she spun to find Jason standing there, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. The morning sun caught the sharp angles of his face, making his already unfairly handsome features even more infuriatingly distracting. His smile was slow, confident—like he knew exactly the effect he had on her.
“Being young and stupid is overrated,” he added, eyes flickering with something she couldn’t quite name.
Caitlin narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m still a spring chicken,” she shot back, tilting her chin defiantly as she stuck out her tongue playfully. “Twenty-nine. You’re the one pushing your mid-thirties, old man.”
“Old?” Jason echoed, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. “Old?” He let out a low chuckle, and for some inexplicable reason, it sent a flutter through her chest. Was it the heat, or was it that darn smile? “I’m thirty-three.”
“Thirty-four soon,” she quipped without thinking, the words slipping past her lips before she could stop them.
Jason stilled, his gaze sharpening. A slow, satisfied smile curled at the corner of his mouth. “You remembered.” His voice was softer now, laced with something warmer, something deeper.
Caitlin swallowed hard, a prickle of unease—no, not unease, awareness—skating down her spine. “Nice,” she mumbled, looking anywhere but at him. “Maybe we can celebrate together.”
His words stopped her cold. She turned, guarded, her fingers tightening around the rim of the bucket. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice warier than she’d meant it to be.
Jason didn’t back down. He never did. Instead, he took a slow step closer, closing the distance between them until the air between them felt charged. “I’m talking to a friend.”
Caitlin scoffed. “When were we ever friends?”
“We are now,” he said simply, watching her with an unreadable expression.
Her pulse kicked up a notch. “Yes, but why?”
Jason’s lips twitched, but there was something serious in his gaze. “Because I’ve decided that I want to take a chance on a few things I’ve missed in my life.”
Caitlin’s breath hitched, her fingers itching to do something—grab the honeysuckle, walk away, anything to break the intensity of his stare. “And you decided I was one of them?” she asked, forcing her voice to sound unimpressed.
“More like it hit me between the eyes like a two-by-four.”
Caitlin let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head as she picked up the honeysuckle again—then put it back down just as fast. “That’s so flattering,” she muttered.
Jason only grinned, undeterred. “I was being honest.”
“Painfully so.”
“Would you rather I lie to you?”
“Not necessarily lie,” she hedged, shifting her weight as she tried not to focus on the way he was looking at her. “But you could soften the blow.”
Jason tilted his head, pretending to consider her words. “Hmm.”
And then he just stared at her.
The silence stretched, thick and full of something Caitlin wasn’t ready to name. Her skin tingled, awareness prickling at the back of her neck. Finally, she snapped. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Do I have something on my face or something?” she demanded, suddenly self-conscious.
Jason hesitated. His gaze flickered over her face, lingering. And then—slowly—he reached out, his fingers hovering just over her cheek.
Caitlin stiffened. “Oh goodness,” she breathed, eyes widening. “If it’s a spider or a bee—get it off me!” She went rigid, panic flashing in her chest.
But Jason only chuckled, low and warm. He leaned in, his breath stirring against her cheek. “Relax, Caitlin,” he murmured, his voice edged with amusement.
Her stomach did an unexpected flip, and she barely resisted the urge to shiver.
Caitlin’s pulse quickened as Jason stepped closer—too close— close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough that his scent—fresh pine and something warm and familiar, like cinnamon and worn leather—wrapped around her senses, making her head spin.
He was too calm, too steady, too everything.
She should step back. She should say something. But then he spoke.
“I think it was your eyes and your laugh that made me realize just how much I was missing in my world,” he murmured, his voice like the slow drawl of a summer breeze, coaxing her to listen.
Caitlin’s breath caught in her throat as his fingertips brushed along her jaw, featherlight and deliberate, tracing a path down to the curve of her ear. Every nerve in her body stood at attention, the world around her blurring until there was only him. Only this moment.
“I heard you laugh, saw you smile, and thought the happiness within you looked incredible… and I wanted to be a part of it,” Jason continued, his voice dropping lower, intimate. “I think I realized then that I wanted to find someone who could make me smile, make me laugh, and you were there before me.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs as she stared up at him, caught in the moment, in the quiet vulnerability of his confession. She felt raw, exposed, and seen in a way that both terrified and thrilled her.
He leaned back slightly, just enough to meet her gaze. His eyes, a stormy shade of blue-gray, searched hers as if waiting for something—permission, maybe. Confirmation.
“How was that?” he breathed.
The weight of his words pressed against her, stealing her breath.
“Was that a lie?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jason didn’t hesitate. “That was my two-by-four moment.”
A shaky laugh escaped her. “You… you thought that ?”
“A few times.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you pulling my leg?”
He grinned, slow and teasing, the corners of his lips twitching in amusement. “Are you putting that honeysuckle back again?”
Caitlin blinked, suddenly aware that she had, in fact, picked up the same honeysuckle pot for the third time and was in the middle of putting it back. Again.
Flustered, she dropped her hand as if burned.
“I’m on a budget.”
“Me too,” she shot back, arms crossing over her chest as she glanced at the plants already in her basket.
Jason tilted his head, considering her for a moment before nodding toward his cart. “Maybe we should pool our resources and tackle things.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
Without answering, he reached for another honeysuckle pot, tapping the rim. “Look at this one—there’s two in the pot. One for you, one for me.”
“Ooooh.” Her lips parted in realization before her entire body froze.
Because Jason didn’t stop at just one.
Her eyes widened as he casually plucked up two more, slipping them into his cart like he was solving the world’s simplest problem.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, stepping forward as if she could stop the chaos from unfolding.
“Changing the budget,” he said with a grin, effortlessly transferring her carefully selected plants from her basket to his.
“Wait a second,” she stammered, reaching out to snatch them back, but Jason was faster, his hands deftly moving through the plants like he had all the time in the world. “Stop, Jason. Hang on… those are my plants, and?—”
“Do you want help putting them in the ground?” he interrupted smoothly, his tone completely unfazed.
Caitlin’s mouth opened, then closed. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. “I can do it.”
“I know you can,” he said, his voice warm with something that almost sounded like admiration. “But I was offering.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You were offering?”
“I thought maybe we could talk and work together on the garden—” He glanced up, meeting her gaze, his expression unreadable. “And then you could come over to my place for dinner and help me with my own garden.”
Her breath hitched. “Wait… what ?”
Jason leaned against his cart, completely at ease, like he wasn’t flipping her entire world upside down with every word that left his mouth.
“We could tackle both gardens—and have dinner together.”
“But it’s not Friday,” she blurted, as if that was the most pressing concern in the entire universe.
Jason’s lips twitched in amusement. “So I’m changing the schedule because you have to work, remember?”
Caitlin stared at him, words failing her. “I was on your schedule?” she whispered, more to herself than to him, as his expression softened at her words – before she had something click in her head, looking around wildly.
“Is someone putting you up to this?” she asked suddenly, suspicion creeping in. “Where’s Matthew? Is this some sick joke…?”
His amusement faded, and without hesitation, he leaned forward, brushing the softest kiss against her cheek, the touch lingering just long enough to send a shiver down her spine.
His breath was warm against her skin as he whispered, “You always ask me that, and it’s never a joke. Spend the day with me, and let’s talk.”
Caitlin’s heart thundered in her chest.
“You really mean that,” she breathed, stunned, still reeling from his touch, from the sincerity in his voice.
Jason held her gaze, steady and sure. “And what I said before?”
She swallowed hard, her pulse a wild, erratic thing in her throat.
“I meant that too,” Jason murmured, his voice rich with something unspoken, something undeniably real. “I think you’re pretty, and I want to get to know you better.”
Her stomach flipped. Her world tilted.
“Just like that?” she whispered.
His grin was slow, deliberate, carrying the kind of confidence that sent a shiver through her.
“Yep.”
The single word hung between them, charged with a meaning she wasn’t quite ready to untangle.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, disbelief warring with something warmer, something dangerous. “You’ve never even looked at me before.”
His chuckle was quiet, rough-edged, and unexpectedly bashful. She wasn’t used to seeing him this way—slightly off balance, his usual easy arrogance softened by something more vulnerable.
“Oh, I’ve looked,” he admitted, his voice dipping into something low and intimate. His ears reddened slightly as if the confession cost him something, and his gaze flickered downward for just a moment before meeting hers again. “I just couldn’t act on it because you were friends with Matthew, seemed so much younger than me, or I was drowning in chores, duty, and other stuff.”
He hesitated, as if debating how much more to say, then exhaled slowly. “Things have changed for me… and I’d like a chance to see what this is.”
“This?” she repeated, barely managing to push the word out past the knot forming in her throat.
“With us,” he clarified, his voice steady now. He reached forward, plucking another honeysuckle from the display, his fingers brushing the petals with a tenderness that made her breath hitch.
Before he could drop it into the already overflowing cart, Caitlin shot out a hand, covering his wrist with her palm. The heat of his skin seared into hers, a brand she wasn’t sure she was ready for. Their eyes locked, and for the first time, she saw something in his gaze she’d never noticed before—something deep, unwavering, and wholly focused on her.
“What?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.
“There’s already too many in the cart.”
His lips curled, not in mockery but in something softer, something entirely too disarming. “If you like them, then I want them at my place too.”
Her stomach clenched, and she swallowed hard. The weight of his words pressed against her, sinking in, making her feel dizzy with the realization of what he was truly saying. There was no mistaking his meaning, no room to pretend he was joking.
“You really mean this, don’t you?”
His gaze didn’t waver. “Show me your world, and I’ll show you mine,” he said, an invitation wrapped in something deeper, something she wasn’t sure she had the strength to turn down. “Let’s begin by getting to know each other and go from there.”
A slow smile tugged at her lips despite the chaos in her chest. “By planting stuff in the garden… and having coffee together?”
“Followed by dinner because you are so overwhelmed by my gardening skills,” he teased, the confidence in his voice making her laugh despite herself.
She shook her head in disbelief, pressing a hand against her forehead. “You know what? You’re on—for all of it.”
His grin stretched wide, victorious. “’Bout time, Catnip.”
Caitlin groaned, dragging her hand down her face. “Caitlin,” she stressed, glaring at him.
His laughter rang out, warm and unrepentant. “My apologies,” he said smoothly, eyes twinkling. “I must have misspoken.”
She rolled her eyes, but her lips betrayed her with a smile.
She was in trouble.
* * *
Today would be a day Caitlin would never forget.
The morning sun had given way to a balmy afternoon, the air thick with the scent of freshly tilled earth and the promise of summer. She and Jason worked in perfect tandem, moving through the rows of dark soil with an unspoken rhythm. He drove the shovel into the ground with easy strength, the muscles in his forearms flexing beneath tanned skin, while she followed close behind, gently cradling each plant, setting it into place, and patting the soil down.
Tomatoes, peppers, and herbs nestled into their new home effortlessly. It was almost too easy—almost fun, even—thanks to Jason taking on the heavy labor while she got to do the satisfying work of arranging her garden.
But then, they hit a snag.
The honeysuckle vines and rose bushes.
The five-gallon buckets needed bigger, deeper holes—holes she hadn’t dug yet because this had been a last-minute decision. Her gaze flicked between the plants and Jason, already feeling guilty about the extra work. She’d been torn between the honeysuckles or a clematis, unable to decide, and now here they were, staring down three vines and two deep-red rose bushes that needed serious effort.
Jason, however, was a trooper.
A lifesaver.
His old boots pressed against the shovel, and he threw his weight into it, the blade slicing through the earth where she would’ve struggled. Every motion was efficient and controlled, his shirt clinging to his back, the damp fabric highlighting the defined muscles beneath. A bead of sweat traced a path down the side of his neck, disappearing beneath the collar.
Oh .
A smarter woman would focus on the task at hand, but her brain was busy entertaining the ridiculous desire to see him rip that shirt off entirely. She could imagine it now—him wiping sweat from his brow, tossing it aside with a shrug, revealing those broad shoulders and?—
Nope.
Nope, nope, nope .
She was not about to turn into a stammering mess over a man digging holes. She cleared her throat and forced herself to ask, “Are you sure you don’t mind this?”
Jason drove the shovel down again, his grip tightening as he worked a particularly stubborn rock loose. His easy smile flicked in her direction, a little breathless but not at all annoyed.
“Nah,” he grunted, rocking the post back and forth to break up the soil before pushing deeper. “I like working in the yard. Always have. Even as a boy, my dad and I would make sure my mama had her tomatoes, her peppers… she loved her sunflowers.”
Caitlin smiled, a warm, nostalgic feeling settling in her chest. “I was just thinking about those the other day. It’s a miracle we never got bit by something.”
Jason chuckled, shaking his head. “Too many people in the area. You guys yelled and hollered all the time—Luke, Becca, and Toni were always running around. We’d walk through the sunflowers, cut the heads when it was time, and shake out the seeds. Someone was always out there, you know?”
She tilted her head, catching the faint shift in his expression—the way his smile dimmed, the way his focus seemed to drift somewhere else.
“And now?” she asked gently.
Jason hesitated, his hands tightening on the shovel. “No one bothers them much. Not in several years.”
The weight of his words settled between them.
“We should see if there are any deadheads and harvest the seeds,” she suggested. “It might be fun to salt them and have sunflower seeds around. And it would remind us of your mom…”
His brows lifted slightly, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. He leaned against the shovel, studying her.
“It might be nice,” he murmured, then paused. “Would you like to do that? You wanna go look at the sunflower garden together sometime?”
She blinked. It wasn’t just an idea anymore—it was an invitation.
“I’d love to.”
“Done,” he said simply, as if the decision had already been made, and without another word, he went right back to digging.
Caitlin stared at him, momentarily stunned.
“What?” he asked, catching her expression.
“You just surprise me sometimes.”
Jason smirked, then jerked his chin toward the ground. “I think I’m ready for one of the containers.”
Shaking herself from her daze, she grabbed a five-gallon pot, carefully cutting away the side before sliding the honeysuckle free. She moved to kneel beside the hole?—
Only for Jason to grab her under the arms, lifting her clean off the ground as if she weighed nothing, and swatting at her legs.
“Ants,” he said bluntly.
And that’s when she felt the first sting.
Panic shot through her as she let out a startled yelp, kicking off her socks and shoes and smacking at her legs in a frantic attempt to rid herself of the biting swarm.
Then—cold.
She gasped as icy water hit her bare legs.
Jason stood a few feet away, garden hose in hand, dousing her with a stream of water. “Come here,” he ordered, his voice low and steady, leaving no room for argument.
“I’m good,” she managed, backing up, only to realize he wasn’t shutting off the hose.
“I’m good, ” she repeated, this time a little more insistent. “You can shut off the water.”
Jason grinned—a slow, lazy, devil-may-care kind of smile that immediately set off alarm bells in her brain.
“I’m good too,” he said, and before she could react, he lifted the hose higher ? —
And sprayed her full-on in the chest.
The cold shock stole the breath from her lungs, and she let out an indignant squeal, arms flailing . “Jason!”
He laughed, the rich sound filling the air as he feigned innocence, casually redirecting the spray toward her freshly planted tomatoes—before, of course, swinging the hose back at her.
“Oh, that’s it!”
She lunged, reaching for the hose, but Jason, the infuriating man, was taller, faster, and clearly enjoying himself way too much.
They scrambled in a chaotic game of keep-away, both soaked and laughing as water misted around them. Jason dodged, weaving out of reach, only to flick the hose at her again, drenching her hair, her shirt, everything.
But Caitlin wasn’t one to back down.
She finally managed to grab the hose, yanking it from his grip, and immediately turned it on him.
Water splashed over his chest, his shirt now clinging to his frame, the fabric practically translucent. He let out a bark of laughter, running a hand through his soaked hair, his grin wide and unrestrained.
And then?—
Their eyes met.
The playful chaos melted away, leaving behind only the sound of water dripping from their clothes, the golden afternoon wrapping around them, and the weight of something unspoken pressing in. The world seemed to shrink, the garden forgotten, the wet grass beneath Caitlin’s feet cooling her overheated skin.
Her pulse pounded in her ears as she dared to meet Jason’s gaze. A flicker of something dark and unreadable passed over his expression, settling there as his eyes drifted—just briefly—to her lips.
Heat exploded through her chest. Her breath hitched, her fingers twitching at her sides, suddenly hyperaware of how close they stood, the scent of damp earth and summer air swirling between them.
Neither of them moved.
Neither of them spoke.
For the first time since this ridiculous water fight had started, she didn’t want to break the silence.
Jason’s voice, low and teasing, sliced through the tension. “Did you get stung, Catnip?”
Caitlin flinched, her nose scrunching. “Caitlin,” she corrected, her voice tight.
He chuckled, deep and warm, his smile slow and deliberate. “I know what I said, my sweet little Catnip .”
Oh my gosh. He gave me a nickname?
The realization hit her like a live wire, sending a jolt of something entirely too thrilling through her veins. Jason watched her reaction, his expression impossibly smug, as if he knew exactly what was running through her head.
“You should have bought some,” she muttered, her throat dry.
The space between them crackled with something electric, something that hadn’t been there before the water fight, before the easy teasing and the chase through the garden. Now, the air was thick and charged, leaving her unable to look away from him.
Jason tilted his head slightly, studying her like she was some kind of puzzle he was figuring out in real time. “Who says I didn’t?” he murmured. “The other plants are still in my truck.”
Her breath caught—that stupid, traitorous breath.
His words weren’t even remotely romantic, but there was something about the way he said them—calm and steady like he had already anticipated her reaction and enjoyed every second of watching it unfold—that made her stomach dip.
“Thank you for pulling me from the ants,” she said, forcing herself to focus. “I didn’t see them.”
Jason’s features softened, the teasing edge dimming just slightly. “Of course,” he said. His voice wasn’t just warm now—it was something deeper, something that settled low in her chest. “I didn’t realize you were going to kneel down. I don’t want you to get stung.”
The sincerity in his tone threw her off balance. He had been playing, laughing, chasing her only moments ago, but now… now he was looking at her like she mattered. Like she was more than just a fleeting distraction on a summer afternoon.
Caitlin swallowed, pushing against the sudden rush of emotion clogging her throat. She needed space. Air. Anything to keep herself from reading too much into this moment.
“I should get you a towel,” she mumbled.
Jason exhaled slowly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Nah.” His voice was softer now, barely more than a breath. “Go get cleaned up. I’ll finish this.”
His gaze dipped, traveling over her, and her skin burned in its wake.
“The sun will help dry me,” he added, his voice thick, his throat working. “And I don’t need to be standing’ here, eyein’ how incredible you look right now.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
“Really?” she asked, the word barely more than a whisper.
Jason groaned, dragging a hand through his dripping hair. “Oh, gosh, you are killing me.” His laugh was rough, almost self-deprecating, and he shook his head. “I’m trying to take things slow and be polite—but yeah—you are hotter than sin right now. Please, for the love of my sanity, go inside and dry off.”
Caitlin’s lips parted, her heart racing.
Jason held her gaze for one more charged second, then exhaled sharply and turned away, muttering something under his breath that she couldn’t quite catch.
She should go inside. She really should.
But as she stood there, frozen in place, watching the droplets of water slide down his tanned skin, watching the muscles in his back shift as he moved, she realized something.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to.
“What happens if I stay?” she uttered, her voice raw with emotion and something else – and saw Jason’s back stiffen, almost like someone had shocked him with a cattle prod. His head slowly turned to look over his shoulder, meeting her eyes.
"Things will change," his voice was rough, almost unsteady, like he was holding something back with sheer force of will.
"Aren't they changing already?" she whispered, her words barely more than a breath, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile moment between them. "That’s not a bad thing, is it?"
"Not at all," he admitted, his jaw tightening. "But the thoughts in my head right now—we aren’t ready for just yet." His voice dipped lower, more gravel than words. "So please, go inside and let me finish up back here. I could use the distraction to burn off some energy."
A distraction. As if she weren’t standing there in front of him, soaked through from the water they’d just played in together, her T-shirt clinging to every curve, her pulse hammering in her throat. As if he weren’t doing the same—his muscles taut beneath his damp shirt, his hands flexing like he was fighting the need to reach for her.
Neither of them moved.
Caitlin studied him, the tight line of his profile, the way his hands fisted at his sides. He was unraveling, barely holding himself together, and part of her wanted to push just a little—to test the limits of his restraint. To see if she'd finally, found the crack in his armor where she could slip inside and stay.
But then he whispered, "Please, Catnip."
The name, spoken in that raw, quiet voice, nearly broke her. It wasn’t just a request—it was a plea. And something inside her, some deeply rooted instinct, told her that if she stayed, if she challenged him now, she might push him too far. She might ruin this before it had even begun.
She glanced down, suddenly hyperaware of how the wet fabric of her shirt outlined the lace of her pink bra. She swallowed hard, knowing exactly what Jason was seeing, knowing what it was doing to him.
A small, reckless part of her wanted to stay anyway. Wanted to test him. But the larger part—the part that had waited for him for so long—knew better.
With a slow, reluctant nod, she stepped back. The exhale he let out was almost painful to hear, his shoulders sagging in relief as if looking at her for another second might destroy whatever fragile control he had left.
She forced herself to move, one step, then another, heading toward the house. Each footfall felt heavier than the last, her heartbeat thudding in her ears.
Her hand touched the doorknob, fingers curling around the cool metal?—
"Thank you," Jason said, his voice rough but quiet. "Because I want to do this right between us."
She closed her eyes for a beat, willing herself not to turn around. "Me too, Jason," she murmured. "I want this to be right between us also because I’ve waited a long time for you."
A pause. A deep, weighted silence.
"I know you have," he said finally, the promise in his voice unmistakable. "And I’m not gonna mess this up."
Caitlin let out a slow breath, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.
When she finished changing and drying off, she walked out back to invite Jason in and offered to make dinner for them here – only to see that he wasn’t out back. She hurried to the front and sighed.
Sure enough – his truck was gone.
Looking at her phone, she hesitated and saw his text message.
I finished planting the honeysuckle and roses – but I think I need to take a pass on dinner tonight. I’m sorry. I keep seeing you in my head, and it’s too much right now.
Good - you need a hobby.
You aren’t mad I left?
Nah. Work off that energy, buddy.
I could toss a bulldozer cheerfully right now.
Same here.
I liked the way you looked, too.
Annnd now I’m gonna go dig like a frantic man in the yard until my hands bleed. I’m glad I cannot see your eyes right now. That look… oh man, I love the way you look at me.
It’s the same for me, Jason – SO STAY HOME AND DIG.
See you in a few days.
Sounds good.