Chapter 12
TWELVE
JACKSON
The late-afternoon sun slanted through the clouds, painting the farm in streaks of gold. The air was thick with the smell of cut lumber and fresh earth, sharp and clean. Sawdust clung to Jackson’s corded forearms, catching on the fine dark hairs dusted with sweat.
He stepped back to study his work. The frame of the first tiny house rose steadily against the tree line.
It wasn’t much yet, just bones and beams, but he could already see it finished in his head.
It would have a cedar porch, a small woodstove flickering inside, and the sound of llamas in the distance.
It was the first of three he planned on building, with his friend Zach’s help. The work was hard, but he loved it. Loved the ache in his shoulders, the calluses on his hands, the way the world narrowed to the sound of power tools and hammering boards.
The retreat space was slowly coming to life.
Still, Jackson couldn’t help wondering if it was enough.
Caring for the llamas and the land had grounded him, sure, and they would have the Local Blooms garden, but maybe the place needed more.
Guided nature hikes? Something with the horses?
He’d been reading about equine therapy, about how the calm, steady rhythm of working with horses helped veterans breathe easier.
The thought made him glance toward the pasture, where his black stallion, Xavier, pawed the ground impatiently. The horse was half-trouble, half-grace, and all power. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Jackson murmured. “An excuse to show off.”
He lifted the hem of his old grey shirt to wipe his brow, exposing the deep cut of his abs and the faint scar that disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans.
“There you are. Think you can hide from me forever?” Liam’s voice carried across the yard. He rolled up the sleeves of his red and black checkered flannel. His dark hair was tousled from the wind, and his full beard framed a grin that came as easily as breathing.
Jackson wondered if he’d ever had the same easygoing charm as Liam, before he’d gone off to war.
Jackson straightened from where he’d been checking the level. “Don’t you have a farm shop to run? Or a chocolate-obsessed girlfriend to keep company?”
“I have both,” Liam said easily. “But Mom asked me to stop out. She’s cleaning out my old room and thinks I should finally get rid of my action figures.” He grinned. “Also, I overheard Madison ask Zoe about you guys going on a double date. Thought you might want to know.”
Jackson appreciated the heads-up. Group dates weren’t exactly his style; the Santa House outing with Zoe this past Christmas was proof of that. But they needed to keep up appearances for their fake relationship.
Even so, his idea of a good night with Zoe had nothing to do with crowds. It was more like a secluded walk in the woods, her hand in his, her breath hitching when he pulled her close beneath the trees and kissed her until she forgot they were supposed to be pretending.
“I’m sure Zoe would like that,” Jackson said. “I’m good with whatever.”
“That’s very generous of you,” Liam teased.
Jackson shrugged. “I just like making her happy, alright?”
That seemed to be Liam’s cue to back off. Liam knew better than to needle Jackson too hard about Zoe. That kind of ribbing might’ve earned him a punch when they were kids. Hell, it still might now if Liam pushed it.
After Liam left, Jackson spent the rest of the afternoon working in the greenhouse.
He loved its warm, humid air, the earthy aroma of damp soil and green shoots.
He’d missed that smell overseas, where the air had been hot and dry enough to crack his lips and parch his throat in less than an hour outside.
Jackson had set up a workstation inside the new greenhouse.
He liked being there more than in his bedroom, where he also had a desk.
He would’ve put one in the llama barn, but Daisy and Tinsel never left him alone.
They knew that if he was nearby, there was a good chance he’d sneak them extra treats, and they’d chatter at him until he gave in.
Instead, Jackson had built a fifty-foot-long, thirty-foot-wide wooden desk along the back wall of the industrial greenhouse. His laptop sat there among tools, rakes, hoses, gloves, and supplies Zoe had recommended, all neatly stacked within reach.
“Wow, these are looking great,” Zoe said suddenly, making Jackson jump. He tugged his earbuds out. He hadn’t even heard her come in.
“Look at these roses, and the daisies, and the calla lilies! I’m in heaven.” Zoe beamed.
He stood and joined her at the flowerbeds.
The smell of rain clung to her skin. Her lips were a soft peach-pink, and the cerulean blue of her eyes drew him in. Suddenly dizzy with desire, he wanted to touch her face, slide his fingers along her cheek, pull her close, and finally have the long deep kiss he’d imagined for days—weeks—years.
She had always been his first crush, the first girl he’d noticed.
But they hadn’t had a future. He’d already enlisted.
One foot out the door, a future he couldn’t even picture yet.
Zoe was the kind of girl you stayed for, and he had left.
He told himself friendship was safer, cleaner.
But the truth was, he’d been half in love with her even then, and too damn scared to ruin the one good thing he had.
She drifted over to his desk.
“I checked up by Willowbend Bridge from Mrs. Alders’s book. No Moonlight Kisses, I’m afraid,” she said wistfully. “But Madison called. She and Zach are putting together a double date. Something about axe throwing at the Miller barn. You in?”
“Axe throwing?” He set down his pencil. “That’s one way to test if we’re compatible.”
She grinned. “Afraid I’ll be too good at it?”
“Terrified,” he said dryly, stepping closer. “But at least I’ll die impressed.”
Their laughter mingled easily, the sound soft and warm in the quiet space. But then something shifted. It was a feeling that neither of them could laugh away.
Jackson’s gaze drifted over her rain-damp hair, the faint flush on her cheeks, and the little freckle just below her jaw.
He was still half remembering the press of her body against his back on the motorcycle, her arms around his waist, the way she’d looked at him in the library yesterday with her eyes heavy and lips parted as they put on their show.
He needed to stop thinking like this.
“Are these the final plans?” Zoe leaned over his desk, looking at the final sketch he’d put together of the tiny houses for veterans to stay in, by the garden and the llama sanctuary.
Her tone was all brightness and quiet wonder as she said, “It’s beautiful, Jackson. Really beautiful. You’re building something that’s going to change lives.”
He looked away, throat tight. “Just trying to give people what I wish I’d had.”
Her hand brushed his arm, fingers light on his skin.
He didn’t mean to catch her hand, but he did. She didn’t pull away. The moment stretched between them, the air thick with the scent of earth and sawdust and something sweeter—her.
Jackson caught her wrist, thumb grazing the pulse beneath her skin. “You always show up at the worst times, you know that?”
She looked up. “Why’s that?”
“Because every time I think I’ve got my head on straight…” He leaned in, his breath mingling with hers. “… you do this.”
“Do what?” she whispered.
He was still telling himself not to kiss her when he saw a familiar silhouette moving toward the greenhouse. It was his mom, walking briskly from the house.
“Beth,” Zoe said softly, spotting her too.
Jackson’s voice dropped low. “Then you’d better look convincing.”
Her lips parted in surprise, but before she could respond, he leaned in and kissed her.
It was supposed to be for show again—quick, harmless—but the moment their lips met, the world tilted even more than last time.
Zoe’s mouth was soft and warm, a faint taste of honey and citrus lingering. She gave a quiet, startled sigh, then melted against him, her fingers clutching the front of his shirt like she’d been holding herself back for years.
Jackson’s pulse roared in his ears. He hadn’t planned to go further, hadn’t expected the jolt that shot through him, or the way his body seemed to recognize hers instantly. The kiss deepened without thought. The slow, inevitable slide of lips and breath and something far too real to fake.
His hand found her waist; he felt the heat of her through the soft cotton of her dress. She made a sound. It was barely audible, more breath than voice, and it nearly undid him.
Every instinct screamed to pull her closer, to taste more, to see how far this spark would go before it burned them both.
He broke the kiss first, just barely, his forehead brushing hers. Her breath hit his lips, shaky and uneven, matching his own. Neither of them moved.
The door creaked open.
“Hi, Mrs. Hawthorne,” Zoe said quickly, stepping back, but not fast enough to hide the flush on her cheeks.
Beth smiled knowingly. “Well, you two certainly look happy.”
Jackson cleared his throat, pretending to busy himself with the desk. “Hey, Mom. We were just talking about the greenhouse expansion.”
“Is that what they’re calling it now?” Beth teased.
Zoe laughed, a little too high-pitched. “Definitely all business.”
Beth’s grin said she didn’t believe either of them for a second.
“I’m making honey chicken and asparagus for dinner. Will you join us?” Beth asked.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I can’t today,” Zoe said too quickly, and Jackson couldn’t blame her after the kiss they’d just shared. Everything felt different, and yet the same, and completely unsettled.
“I left Mrs. Bishop watching the shop, and I still have to finish up some paperwork. Jackson and I are trying to get funding for our Local Blooms project.” She turned to him, rallying. “We should probably work on our presentation soon, right? I want to be ready for Eleanor Davenport.”
“Just let me know when,” he said, his voice still rough from that kiss.
“Perfect. I’ll talk to you later then.” Zoe shuffled forward awkwardly, then leaned up to kiss his cheek, just as she might if they were really dating. Jackson ignored the heat that flared at her touch, the softness of her lips against his stubble, the sweet scent of her perfume.
He gave her hip a gentle squeeze as she moved past him, then watched her hug his mom goodbye and wave as she slipped out the door.
“Well, you two do make an adorable couple. I’d say the Spring Fling King and Queen is clearly in the bag,” Beth said with a wink.
Jackson chuckled, but Beth’s words lodged somewhere deeper than he wanted to admit. Because the way Zoe’s kiss had branded him, the way his hand still tingled from her hip… he already felt like a king.