Chapter 23 #2
She blinked, then looked down at her scuffed boots. How could she tell him that? What if he rejected her?
She peeked back. His eyebrows rose. She matched them. His lips twitched. She smiled. He tilted his head. She nodded and rose.
“Where are you going? You’ll miss the fireworks,” Elinor murmured from beside her.
“I’m going to make up with Jordan.”
“Finally,” her sister muttered.
Yep. Finally.
She inched away from the crowd, glad for the darkness that made it easier to slip away. Then found Jordan on the other side of the shed.
“Hey, EJ.”
“Oh, Jordan!” She hugged him, but it didn’t feel the same, not with their matching puffer jackets getting in the way. Still, she clung on, not wanting to ever let go. This moment finally felt right. Felt good. Even if so much still remained to be said.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I never realised how much I took you for granted. I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”
He clutched her closer. “It’s okay.”
No, it wasn’t. She drew back, even as part of her wanted to snuggle in more. She had to make him understand. “I don’t know how I could be so dumb to believe that someone like Eric would fall for me.”
“No, don’t go there. That man was bad news from the start.”
“You never trusted him, did you?”
He sighed. “I always had my doubts.”
“See? Clever you and stupid me.”
“Hey, don’t say that about yourself.”
“I don’t know how I could ever think I could be a matchmaker when I couldn’t even see the obvious. Him and Gwen, all this time. I felt like such a fool.”
“Time will heal the wound, Emma-Jane.”
She nodded, then realised what he’d said. “You called me Emma-Jane. Not EJ.”
“I’ve heard that’s what you prefer these days.”
“I … I felt like that’s what God called me. Emma-Jane. So I’m trying to do what He wants. More of Him, less of me.” She sighed. “I’m still a work in progress, though.”
“Aren’t we all?”
Hardly. He seemed perfect. Mr. Right. “So we’re okay? You and me? Even though I seem to have been doomed to blindness?”
He smiled. “You’re not doomed to anything if you’re a child of God.”
Tears pricked. He was so good to remind her. “So, you mean that? You forgive me?”
“Of course I do.” His lips tilted to one side. “We’re best friends, remember? That means we’ve got each other’s backs and can see past the current challenges to see the big picture.”
“And what big picture is that?” she murmured. Please God, let him see the same big picture I do. A future where they were together, not just friends, but a couple. With a family. A farm. With a dog and a couple of donkeys or Highland cows, even.
His lips tweaked. “That … that we’re always friends.”
Always friends? Uncertainty smacked her. Had she read this wrong? Did he really not want to be anything more than friends, after all?
He shifted suddenly, then shook his head. “This is all wrong.”
What? What did he mean? He didn’t want her? Her heart panged savagely. “What is?”
He sighed, then gestured to where the others were. “We’re supposed to be here celebrating Liv and Liam, and—”
“You want to rejoin them? Okay.” Humiliation washed over her. Oh, she’d broken things forever. Things would never be the same now!
“No.” He drew close again and grasped her cold hands. “Let me finish.”
“Sorry.”
His teeth glimmered as he gave a brief smile. “No, it’s okay. Except it’s not. Because we’re meant to be celebrating them, and instead, I’m here feeling envious.”
Envious? Of what? That Liam was marrying the good Bennett girl, and Jordan-the-good wished that he was with her instead?
“You’re not asking me what is the point of my envy.”
Her heart felt fragile, like a faint breeze could knock it down. If he wasn’t holding her hands, she’d run away, brave woman that she was.
“Well, I cannot be so wise.” He sighed. “I must tell you what you will not ask, though I may wish it unsaid the next moment.”
“Jordan, I’m your friend. Of course you can say anything.”
“Your friend?” He shook his head. “Very well.” He eyed her, then drew her closer, then pressed her hand against his heart. “It’s you, Emma-Jane. It’s always been you.”
As his friend?
Then he lowered his head to kiss her hand, his eyes still intent on her.
Oh! Was she asleep? If so, let her never awake from this delicious dream.
“Emma-Jane, if I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more,” he said in a low voice.
“But you know what I am. You hear nothing but truth from me. And you know that I have blamed you and lectured you and you have borne it as no other woman would have. But you understand me, and I understand you, dearest, sweetest, most beloved Emma.”
She couldn’t speak, too afraid of puncturing this perfect moment. Just drew closer still until the heat of his body warmed the length of her.
The sweetness of his words—had he really called her his beloved?
—had stolen all hers. She could only stare at him, into the sparkling depths of his eyes that had always seen straight into her soul, her smile a little wobbly, her heart still a little unbelieving.
Was this real or simply her best dream ever?
Then he tilted his head, and she closed her eyes and felt his lips graze her cheeks, the slight rasp of his stubble abrading her skin, his breath wisping warmth over her face, before his lips found hers in a moment of sweet bliss.
One caress turned into two. Then she was sliding her arms around his shoulders, pressing in eagerly, meeting his hunger with her own.
Oh, she could never get enough of him. How could she not have known what a great kisser he was?
He kissed with what felt like tender fierceness, like he’d waited a lifetime to pour out his affection.
Which only increased her desire to show him the same.
Eventually she needed air, so she drew back, breathing unsteadily, as they stared at each other.
His mouth curved. She echoed it.
“Is this okay?” he asked tentatively.
“Are you kidding? That was the best kiss of my life.”
He smiled. “The only kiss of my life.”
“Really?” she whispered, her breath clouding white.
He nodded.
Well, a statement like that deserved its own special brand of acknowledgement, which she was happy to do. “I could do this for the rest of my life,” she whispered against his lips.
“I think we should,” he murmured back, as fireworks exploded behind them.
Fireworks behind them, above them, between them, within them. She would never get tired of kissing this man.
Laughter finally caused her to pull away, where Elinor and Katie watched, with arms folded and matching huge grins.
“Are you two all right over there?” Emma-Jane called.
“Obviously not as all right as you two.” Elinor smirked.
“Oh, it’s so sweet to see you two have finally worked things out.” Katie clapped her hands. “We should see if Liv and Liam want a double wedding.”
Emma-Jane snuggled into Jordan’s side, where she could tell he was holding back laughter. “Calm the farm, Katie.”
“Oh, this farm is calm. Apart from the fireworks.” Katie winked.
“Jordan, you’ll need to forgive Katie,” Elinor said. “She’s as much of a matchmaker as Emma-Jane or Mum.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing you meet your match one day,” he said, pointing at her. “Seeing both of you find your Mr. Rights.”
Elinor crossed her arms. “You’ll be waiting a long time, then.”
“Don’t count on it. If God can do this, then He can do anything, right?”
Katie sighed, clasping the scarf at her neck. “I can’t wait to meet my Mr. Right. I hope God brings him along soon, before I have to resort to using Dream Match.”
“I didn’t prove to be much of a matchmaker,” Emma-Jane mumbled.
“I disagree,” Elinor said. “You found your dream match, didn’t you?”
Jordan wrapped his arm around her waist and smiled at her. “You know I always hoped you’d run those algorithms and see we were a perfect match.”
“I did,” she admitted shyly.
“Is that so?”
“Extremely so.”
“Really? When?”
“Back when we were in high school.”
He laughed, swooping nearer, and kissed her again, as if uncaring of the fact her two sisters were but steps away.
Oh, but she didn’t care either. She’d never get tired of kissing Jordan Knight.