Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
ISABELLE
Man of My Dreams
Rumor has it that first dates are better with flowers …
Me
Are you implying that you want me to get you flowers for Saturday?
Man of My Dreams
No. But I want to know what your favorite flowers are.
Me
Oh. Well, take a guess
Man of My Dreams
Roses?
Me
Nope
Man of My Dreams
Tulips?
Me
Maybe
Man of My Dreams
Peonies?
Sunflowers?
Lego flowers?
Origami flowers?
Me
Do you even know how to make origami?
Man of My Dreams
I think you’re forgetting I’m very good with my hands, Isabelle.
Me
Still taking your daily ego vitamins, I see
Man of My Dreams
Never miss a dose.
Anyway, back to the topic of flowers … is it lilies?
Me
Maybe
Man of My Dreams
You’re really going to make me work for this, aren’t you?
Me
Yep
Ifinish getting ready fifteen minutes before Jackson’s here to pick me up for our date, which feels like a record achievement.
He’s been vague about what we’re doing today, and the only thing he said was to block out the whole day and wear something comfortable. So, I opt for a casual baby-blue floral dress as my outfit, paired with a pair of white sandals.
As I place my keys inside my tote bag, my intercom rings. My heart does a little excited dance, and I buzz Jackson up.
A knock resounds on my door soon after, and I open it to see Jackson standing there, looking as gorgeous as ever in a white polo shirt and faded blue jeans. He’s also holding a bouquet of peonies—my favorite flowers.
My mouth parts slightly open in surprise.
Jackson touches the back of his neck, a smile meeting his lips. “How’d I do?”
“They’re really my favorite,” I say. “How’d you get it right?”
“I wish I had a fun answer, but digging around on your social media didn’t help, and I just went with my gut feeling in the end,” he admits.
Gosh. He’s so sweet.
Jackson’s facial expression melts into something softer when he takes me in. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I can feel my cheeks going pink under his gaze. At this rate, I may as well forego my entire blush collection. “You look handsome, too. And thank you for the flowers.”
Jackson pulls me into a kiss, and I close my eyes, savoring his soft lips against mine.
After setting the flowers in a vase, I grab my tote bag and walk downstairs with Jackson to his car, where Tony is waiting for us.
“Morning, Tony,” I say.
Tony greets me with a warm smile. “Good morning, Isabelle. It’s nice to see you with Jackson again.”
Following a thirty-minute drive, we reach our first destination, Bonnie’s Books—a cute indie bookstore in Chelsea.
I glance around excitedly like a kid at the candy store as we step inside, the smell of lavender and books floating in the air.
Strings of fairy lights decorate the white walls, and I can hear the rows of color-coordinated bookshelves practically calling my name.
A cream love seat is placed in the middle of the store while a fluffy pink rug graces the floor.
“How did you know this place was on my bucket list?” I ask.
“I remember you shared one of their Instagram posts a few weeks ago,” Jackson explains. “And I knew it’s somewhere I wanted to take you to.”
For Jackson to tuck that detail away … it’s really the small things that count.
“Jackson Carter, capable of being romantic and thoughtful,” I tease. “Careful, or I might start thinking you’re an imposter.”
“I’m capable of many things, Isabelle. Just you wait and see.”
“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Jacky.” I give him a pat on the shoulder and glance around our surroundings. “We seem to be the only ones here.”
“I might’ve made a little arrangement with Bonnie,” Jackson admits, referring to the bookstore owner. “We have the store to ourselves for the next hour.”
I blink. “That’s amazing.”
He reaches for my hand, leading me to one of the bookshelves. “Come on. I have a game planned.”
Curiosity fills my body. “What kind of game?”
Jackson takes out a card from the shelf and passes it to me. I read the heading, Romance Book Lover Challenge (Bella’s Version), my heart melting at the cute title. Below the heading are words starting with each letter of the alphabet, such as accommodation, blue, and cake.
“There are twenty-six words on here,” Jackson says. “You have twenty-six minutes to find as many books as you can on your to-be-read list that correlate to each word. You can pick one book for each word only.”
My competitive spirit buzzes. “How do you know which books are on my list?”
“I asked Jen.” Jackson takes out his phone and opens his Notes app. “I have the list here.”
“You know, there are more than twenty-six books on my list.”
A cocky grin taints his lips. “If you like, we can do this again when you go on a second date with me.”
“You seem confident about a second date,” I tease. “We haven’t even finished our first date yet.”
“There’s no way this will be our last date, Isabelle.”
“We’ll see.” I briefly turn away to hide the goofy smile on my face.
Jackson sets a timer on his phone. “All right, get ready because I’m starting the game.” He flashes his dimples. “You snooze, you lose.”
“Not a chance,” I say. “Bring it on.”
He presses the start button, and I get to work, taking Jackson’s card as I race around and scan the shelves, running my fingertips along the spine of each book. Jackson picks up a shopping basket, joining me on my hunt.
I grab a book that relates to the word accommodation. “This book has a scene where the characters are staying at a resort.”
Jackson scans the book title, then the list on his phone. “Nice.”
With a satisfied smile, I place the book inside his basket.
Next, I pick up a book with a blue cover, a friends-to-lovers romance I’ve been meaning to read soon. “This one has a blue cover.” I head to another shelf and select a third novel. “This one has a marriage-of-convenience storyline, so I’m going to say it relates to cake, like wedding cake …”
“Not bad,” Jackson says from behind. “I’m impressed.”
I go through the rest of the list, managing to find twenty-two books. When the time’s up, the only words I stumbled on are rain, trouble, Xmas, and zealous. I’m surprised I didn’t pick up a book relating to Christmas, and I think it’s a sign I need to add more holiday romances to my list.
“I guess I didn’t pass the challenge,” I admit with a sigh. “It was so fun, though.”
Jackson cocks a brow. “You know I’m getting you all those books in the basket, right?”
My mouth opens. “Jackson …”
“You think I’m gonna take you to a bookstore and leave without getting you any books?”
“But …” I do the math in my head. “Twenty-two books … it adds up to a lot.”
Jackson flaunts a teasing grin. “Think of it as repayment for all those physiotherapist, dentist, optometrist, and dry-cleaning fees I billed under your name.”
I stare at him. I can’t believe he still remembers all those conversations.
Something gentle creeps into his facial expression when I don’t joke back. “It’d make me happy to treat you. I know how much reading means to you.”
I give him a smile. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He puts down the basket and picks up a random book from the shelf. It’s the last copy of that book in the store.
“On another note, I’ve always been curious about these books,” he says, turning to me. “If it has a cartoon cover, does that mean someone like Anna can read it?”
I peer at the book, my eyes widening because it’s the same one I was reading on our flight to Chicago. “Oh, no, Anna shouldn’t read that.”
“Why not?” He cocks a brow and flips to the first page of the book. “Hey, where’s the scene that you were reading on our flight?”
A nervous laugh escapes my mouth. “What scene?”
Jackson turns to me with a knowing look. “You know which scene.” He flips to a random page in the middle of the book, landing on the very scene he caught me reading.
“Wait, not that page!” I exclaim.
A roguish look shines on his face. “That only makes me want to read it more.”
I attempt to steal the book from him, but he only lifts it higher so it’s out of my reach.
“Hey, that’s not fair!” I fold my arms. “You can’t take advantage of being tall like that.”
Another smirk dances across Jackson’s face as he lowers the book. As I reach for it again, he raises it higher and starts walking off.
“You want it? Come and get it.”
I follow him, but he only quickens his pace, and soon after, we’re running around like kids playing a game of tag. Thank goodness there are no other customers here right now because they would probably be visibly confused.
“Stop,” I say with a laugh.
Jackson doesn’t stop and only glances back at me, enjoying watching me chase after him, all out of breath. Gym class definitely wasn’t my forte back in school.
A sudden, sneaky idea invades my head.
“Wait, I think I sprained my ankle,” I gasp and try my best to keep a straight face.
Jackson stops in his tracks, his brows furrowing as he places the book on the nearest shelf and crouches down to check my ankle. “Does it hurt?”
I grab the book off the shelf, bursting into a fit of laughter. “You’re so gullible.”
Jackson stands back up. “I knew you were lying,” he argues. “I was just playing along so you could feel smarter than me for once.”
“Sure.” I shake my head, still laughing so hard that my stomach hurts. “You’re such a liar.”
Jackson grins, revealing his dimples. “Sounds like the pot calling the kettle black.”
With no comeback, I simply stand there, tracing his sharp nose bridge and defined jawline, my chest expanding with joy. I bite my lip, not believing this incredible and beautiful man is taking me out on a date.
Jackson’s gaze dips to my mouth, and he swipes my bottom lip with his thumb. “I’ll get you later for that little stunt you pulled,” he says in a velvety voice, the words a sinful yet delicious promise.
Footsteps resound, and I turn to see a woman with a name badge that reads Bonnie, an embarrassed look on her face as she watches me and Jackson. “Oops! I didn’t mean to interrupt. Just ignore me.”
I give her a sheepish smile. “All good, Bonnie.”
“Thanks again for letting us monopolize this space this morning, Bonnie,” Jackson adds.
Bonnie winks. “You’re welcome, lovebirds.”
After departing Bonnie’s Books with twenty-two new books and my heart full, we head to the car, where Tony’s waiting for us.
Jackson keeps our next destination a surprise until we arrive.
It’s Central Park.
When Jackson opens the car trunk, there’s a picnic basket, red checkered blanket, and medium-sized box inside.
“What’s inside that box?” I ask.
“It’s a surprise.”
I offer to hold the basket and box, but Jackson insists on taking the heavier items, so I’m left only holding the blanket.
We walk through the park, finding a spot.
Jackson stops when we reach a shady spot under a large tree. “How about here?”
“It’s perfect,” I say, glancing at our surroundings.
Around us are families, couples, and groups of friends also enjoying a picnic. The sun blazes overhead, casting warm rays of golden sunlight, and the sounds of birds chirping echo faintly in the distance.
We sit down on the grass, setting up our little picnic. Inside the picnic basket are sandwiches, strawberries, blueberries, crackers, and cheese, plus a bottle of orange juice.
“All right, the suspense is over.” Jackson opens the box, revealing a few mini blank canvases, paintbrushes, and mini paint pots. “I thought we could have a little painting competition today.” He places one of the canvases in front of me and divides the paintbrushes between us.
My hands itch with the need to pick up a brush. It’s been a long time since I’ve painted, and I miss it so much.
“I’m excited,” I gush. “Is there a theme?”
“We can paint whatever we want,” he says. “But we might need to sit with our backs to each other so we don’t see each other’s artwork.”
“True. I can set up a timer for thirty minutes?”
“Sounds good.” Jackson rubs his hands together. “Time to channel my inner Van Gogh. Get ready to lose, Isabella.”
“Not a chance,” I say. “Get ready to have your mind blown.”
“We’ll see about that.”
I set up a timer on my phone, and we sit back-to-back.
“Okay, three, two, one, go!” I say.
Adrenaline rushing through my body, I reach for a paintbrush and dip it in some paint, beginning my artistic masterpiece—a portrait of Jackson. I bite my lip to prevent myself from laughing as I paint, allowing my brushstrokes to lead me as I capture the outline of his hair and face.
I haven’t felt this carefree in so long, and with all the stress of planning my fashion show and the recent family drama, Jackson’s surprise is a reminder to do things that make my inner child happy.
The timer beeps, and I put down my paintbrush. “Okay, time’s up! I want to see yours first.”
Jackson turns around and shows me his painting of a smiling woman with dark-brown hair and brown eyes. In the background is something that looks like a stack of books and something else that vaguely resembles a sewing machine.
“I present my portrait, Isabelle and Her World,” he says, his eyes shining. “The one and only. A true artistic masterpiece of the twenty-first century.”
“I think we need to redefine what we mean by artistic masterpiece,” I tease.
“Come on. This is top-tier artwork,” Jackson playfully protests. “Even my man Van Gogh would agree if he were here today.”
I laugh. “Sure.”
A competitive glint flashes in Jackson’s eyes. “Don’t get too smug. Show me what you’ve got.”
I clear my throat and show him my painting. Jackson’s face lights up with intrigue.
“This is inspired by a certain someone from high school,” I say. “His name’s Jackson. I guess he’s kinda cool.”
“Damn, I look hot,” Jackson says. “I should hang that up in my apartment.”
“Yeah?” I grin. “Does that mean I won the competition?”
He flaunts a smug grin. “I painted more, so I think I win.”
“Hey, quality over quantity!” I protest. “Mine’s better.”
“Debatable.”
“You’re such a jackass.” I can’t help the wide and silly smile that forms on my face as I lean my head against Jackson’s shoulder.
I could sit here with him all day, every day.