I stood before my coat closet, staring at the options and trying to decide what would fit Jackson best. A badly fitting jacket would be just as useless, even if it was more insulated. I rubbed my hand over my mouth and chin, the coarse hairs of my beard feeling overgrown, and I let out a sigh. I’d never kept my facial hair long because the upkeep felt like more of a hassle than just shaving in the morning. But Raleigh always thought I’d looked nice with a beard.
Not letting myself fall down the rabbit hole of my own form of recompense, I decided on the only jacket that looked remotely close enough to Jackson’s size and pulled it out without much more thought. It lay across the seat beside me on my drive to the farmhouse like an accusation. This wasn’t playing favorites. This wasn’t anything more than a concerned foreman wanting to ensure that his newest hand would be as successful as he could be at his new position.
You’re branding him. Putting your claim down. Just like a fucking high school crush.
I shook those thoughts away as I pulled up to the house. He needed a better jacket and knowing he had one that could hold up tothe weather out here would be one less thing for my racing brain to latch on to during my long nights. Not that he was the one in my thoughts on my late-night walks. Not yet, at least.
But it needed to stay that way.
It was early, though nowhere near when I’d wander in on my worst nights, but the house was still silent as I made my way through the warm interior. I passed through the dining room and into the kitchen, planning to help Tallie set the table until the man showed himself, only to find him scrambling some eggs over the stove while Tallie pulled out a tray of fluffy biscuits from the oven.
“Morning, boss!” Jackson chirped, which had Tallie glancing over and giving a quick wave over her head.
“Mornin’. Tallie, mind if I borrow Jackson for a moment?”
“Don’t need my permission. He’syouremployee.”
I cast my gaze to the man in question, who pulled the pan from the burner. “Eggs are done, Tallie,” he called over his shoulder as he followed me from the kitchen. She made a sound of acknowledgment as we passed through the door, and I tried to slow the absurd way my heart raced inside my chest as I led him out to my truck.
It wouldn’t matter if he hated the jacket. He could buy himself something else when he got paid. What mattered was he wouldn’t be losing body heat.
When we came up to my truck on the passenger side, I gave myself no time to overthink and essentially thrust the coat into his arms the moment the door opened. He blinked down at the material, his curious smile falling away as he rubbed the lightly worn fabric between his fingers.
“A jacket?” he asked, pulling it away from himself to inspect it.
“Mmm,” I confirmed, shoving my hands into my pockets.
“I already have one.” Jackson raised those endlessly expressive hazel hues to my face.
“And you’re always freezing in it. This one is insulated. It’ll hold up better for you.” I shuffled on my feet, a feeling too close to insecurity settling in my gut.
His eyesdanced over my features, searching for answers I didn’t even have myself. After a moment, he glanced back to the jacket and shook his head. “It’s real kind of you, but I can’t accept this.”
There went a piece of me, flayed open. “Why not?”
“It’s Filson. This is like a three-hundred-dollar jacket. It’s too much.”
“It’s been sitting in a closet collecting dust. At the end of the day, it’s a work jacket, even if it’s a nice one.”
“Was it Raleigh’s?”
My eyes flashed up to his from where I’d inadvertently lowered them to the ground. The conviction I was met with made my lungs seize, and at first I was offended he believed I was capable of parting with any more of Raleigh than I already had. But he only knew the surface level. If he knew everything, he’d know better than to ask that.
I shook my head. “It’s mine.”
That eased something in his features, and the way he went back to studying the material in his hand had a pressure weighing on my heart. He wasn’t scrutinizing me. He wouldn’t be rejectingmeby refusing the jacket. It meant nothing. So then why was it so goddamn important he took it?
“I’m not keeping it,” Jackson started, sucking in a slow breath, and it felt as though he tossed my heart off a forty-story building. But then he caught it. “I’m going to give it back once the weather warms up.”
I made some grunt of agreement, a boulder lifting off my shoulders at his acceptance, while he gave me a sharp nod before jutting his hand out toward me. For a second, I stood there, just staring at the palm of this man who was getting under my skin in more ways than I could count. Everything inside me knew slipping my hand into his was a simple act. It meant nothing—just like the jacket. But as our skin brushed against each other, the flurry of sensation that shot up my arm felt infectious. As if his warmth would live there now.
Jackson gave my hand a quick shake, and after what felt like alifetime of letting his very presence metastasize through me, he let go. “I appreciate it. I haven’t worked for someone who took such good care of his employees before. You better keep me on, Tucker Legare. Otherwise, you’ll be ruining me for any other farm.”
He shot me a wink, and I wondered what would be worse. Letting him ruin me or watching him walk away after six months.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JACKSON
