Page 18 of A Perfect Fit

A rosy-pink blush fills her cheeks. “I bought it with my mommy when we went shopping.” She pauses. “My mommy says if I work hard, I can achieve my dreams. Is that true?”

I squat so that we’re at the same level. “Yes. Think of it like planting the seeds of a tree or flower in a garden. We set the foundation, water it, and give it space to grow. Some seeds may take longer than others to sprout, but that doesn’t mean it’s not happening. Trust that it will eventually blossom into something beautiful, and don’t compare your flower with the other flowers in the garden. I believe in you.”

Those words feel like a much-needed reminder to myself, too.

She grins. “I believe in me, too.”

“What’s your name? I’m Isabelle.”

“Annalise.” She plays with the ends of her braid. “But I like to be called Anna, like Anna from Frozen!”

“Annalise, there you are.”

The velvety, smooth voice of the newcomer from behind wraps around me like silk, and I feel his presence before I can turn around and confirm he’s there.

“Uncle Jace!” Anna exclaims, her brown eyes sparkling.

Slowly, I stand and turn around, coming face-to-face with “Uncle Jace,” who is indeed none other than Jackson Carter.

I scan him from head to toe, my traitorous eyeballs eagerly taking in every inch of him. He’s wearing a white cotton T-shirt, which hugs his body in all the right places, accentuating his muscular frame underneath, and his long legs are clad in light-blue jeans. His brown hair looks tousled in an effortless I just woke up and look this good kind of way. I tell myself not to think about how it’d feel if I ran my fingers through it.

This is the first time I’ve seen him in casual attire since we were teenagers, and … he looks good. And that’s an understatement.

Meanwhile, after spending the morning running around my booth in hot, humid weather, I look like a sweaty and overcooked potato. Again, completely unfair.

He probably looks even better with his shirt off.

The taunting voice in my head is coupled with an image of what Jackson might look like sans shirt and⁠—

What the hell are you thinking, Isabelle? Ogling Jackson is the number one thing we’re not going to do.

“Maybe I should start billing you a fee if you’re going to keep staring like that.”

I snap out of my trance and fold my arms. “Get over yourself.”

“Sorry for running off, Uncle Jace.” Anna grins sheepishly at Jackson. “Isabelle’s booth is too pretty.”

“That’s okay, Annalise, but next time, tell me first, and we can go together,” Jackson says to her. There’s a tenderness on his face I’ve never seen before as he speaks to his niece.

“I didn’t know you had a niece,” I find myself saying.

“Well, I’m Annalise’s favorite uncle.” Indifference lingers in Jackson’s tone as he flips his attention back to me.

“You mean you’re my only uncle,” Anna says, placing her hands on her hips. “And it’s Anna, not Annalise.”

I almost choke on my laughter. Watching Jackson get roasted by his niece might be the best thing I’ve seen all week. “Guess you don’t know your niece well enough.”

Jackson flashes me a smile, the same one he used to fool people into voting for him for student council president back in school. “You know, you seem to really find pleasure in analyzing my life, Isabella.”

I return the smile. “Pleasure and Jackson Carter don’t go together in one sentence.”

A muscle in his jaw pulses.

Isabelle—one. Jackson—zero.

“You know each other?” Anna pipes up.

“We went to school together,” Jackson says.