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His eyes met hers as he nodded. “I have to go, though,” he continued, the softness in his tone almost regretful. “Cannon needs help with the other driveways, and Sage wants to get back to the baby.”
“Okay. You cooked, and I’ll clean up.”
He hung his head. “I’m sorry to leave you with the mess.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind. Besides, I like washing dishes. The act gives my mind a chance to formulate my story.”
“Writing again?”
She smiled and nodded. “I’m inspired.” Inside, her brain said,you make an excellent muse.
“I’m so happy for you.” Jackson leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. The coolness of his lips on her warm skin made her heart stutter, and she blinked up at him in surprise.
Pulling back, Jackson’s eyes widened as if he hadn’t anticipated his action. “I’m sorry, I...” he began, his apology hanging in the air.
“No need to apologize,” Amanda responded quickly, her voice teasing despite the butterflies zooming in her stomach. “That might be the best part of my day.”
A silent moment passed between them, their shared smile saying more than words ever could. As the moment lingered, Amanda wondered aloud, “Are you going to leave Gunner here with me?”
Jackson shook his head. “I have a shift at the bar tonight, and Gunner is coming along. He loves visiting Mike.”
Amanda’s eyebrows lifted in confusion. “Who’s Mike?”
“Cannon’s one-eyed tabby,” Jackson clarified, chuckling at her bewildered expression. “Mike minds the bar. Gunner and Mike are good friends.”
“Ah, so that’s why Gunner’s so good with cats,” Amanda said, joining him in laughter.
“Yep,” Jackson replied. “Well, I better get going. See you later, Amanda.”
With that, he stepped back into the winter’s chill, the cabin door closing behind him with a soft click. The coziness surrounded Amanda once again, her heart still skipping beats at the memory of his unexpected kiss.
CHAPTERTEN
Jackson navigated the icy bends leading away from the cabin. The truck’s heater hummed against the chill of the winter’s morning, the familiar vibration beneath his hands a stark contrast to the whirlwind churning in his mind.
The burn in his cheeks had nothing to do with the truck’s heater and everything to do with the memory of Amanda’s soft cheek against his lips. It was a quick, impulsive action that caught them both off guard. He hadn’t planned or thought about it, yet, in retrospect, it was the most natural thing he had done.
Wide-eyed and flushed, he’d left her in the doorway, an echo of his surprise mirrored on her face. His fingers traced the lacing on the steering wheel restlessly, the faint scent of her still clinging to his jacket. He could still feel the ghost of her skin against his, see the sweet surprise in her whiskey-colored eyes, hear the sudden hitch in her breath.
He shook his head, the heavy thud of his heart against his ribs a sharp reminder of his reality. He wasn’t supposed to be contemplating the softness of her cheek or the startled beauty of her eyes. He should be focused on the road, on the snowflakes falling from the sky, on anything but Amanda.
“Why did I do that?” he muttered, glancing at Gunner, his faithful shepherd sprawled across the passenger seat. But the dog yawned, his eyes drifting shut once more. He wasn’t in any position to offer advice or much-needed wisdom.
Jackson sighed, his gaze shifting back to the road. He flexed his fingers, the steering wheel leather creaking under pressure. Unbidden, Amanda’s face floated into his mind: the soft curve of her cheek, the wide-eyed surprise, the perplexed smile that had tugged at her lips after he’d pulled away. And with that image came a pang of longing. “No,” he said aloud, forcing the rising emotions back down. This was Amanda, the woman he was supposed to be helping, not complicating her life further.
“Damn,” he muttered, a soft chuckle escaping him. What a mess he was getting himself into. He was drawn to her. It was the gentle way she cared, the compassion in her voice when she talked about her writing. The hurt that was there when she spoke about her ex, who, in his mind, was a complete asshole. A soft chuff from the passenger seat drew his attention. “Got any advice, boy?” Jackson asked, casting a quick smile at Gunner. The shepherd perked up, his tail thumping lightly against the door. “Yeah, all you want is a treat from the bakery and bacon from the diner.” He reached over and ruffled Gunner’s fur. “Not today, boy, but you can snuggle Mike when we get to the bar.” As if understanding him, Gunner groaned and covered his head with his paws.
In the silence of the truck, against the backdrop of the peaceful landscape, Jackson found himself on the brink of a situation he hadn't expected to reach. His heart, long buried beneath the hardness of war, was beginning to soften and awaken. And it all traced back to a pair of brown eyes and a soft, surprised gasp.
He shook his head, pushing the swirling thoughts away. Now was not the time. Some neighbors needed his help—the Dawsons, Cade and Abby Mosier, Tilden, and Goldie. Responsibilities awaited, and he couldn’t afford to be lost in fantasies about something as unlikely as a lottery win.
As Jackson approached Cannon’s house, the truck’s wheels crunched over the frozen gravel. The morning sun glinted off the white blanketed lake in the distance. Cannon’s silhouette in his dark jacket and jeans contrasted against the backdrop, his broad shoulders hunched over as he tinkered with the snowplow.
Jackson killed the engine, the silence falling like a thick cover over the moment. He stepped out of the truck and squinted at the bright harshness. Gunner followed, his tail wagging as he pranced around.
“Hey, Cannon,” Jackson called out, his breath misting in the cold.
Cannon straightened, pulling his gloves off as he flashed a lopsided grin at Jackson. “Took you long enough.”
