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She’d said she couldn’t stay in Wishing Well because of the memories her mom conjured. Somehow, he needed to figure out a way to make new memories. Ones that would make her want to stay. With him. Forever.
CHAPTER 10
Jo
Jo drifted into the kitchen the next morning, smiling as the scent of eggs and bacon filled the air. She should have been half awake for as long as it took to get to sleep the night before. It’d been an exceptionally long night filled with thoughts about Jack, Wishing Well, and her entire future. She’d even ignored the call from Bridget because she didn’t want to slip up and tell her best friend anything when she had yet to sort it all out.
And her spirit was all out of sorts.
It’d been no big deal to make Jack a meal. Sure, it had taken work, but she enjoyed the process, which made it fun. She’d planned to drop off the food, return home, and spend the evening hashing out her schedule with Bridget.
Then he opened the door. Shirtless. Her tongue twisted into knots, stuck to the roof of her mouth, and whatever air she had in her lungs had whooshed out. All the years of working outside with his hands had made him a specimen worthy of a men’s fitness magazine. His broad chest was lean and muscled. She was full-on, broad-daylight gaping, unable to string together a complete thought.
Her inability to speak had at least kept her from even more embarrassment since she couldn’t blurt the first thing that had come to mind. Whoa, mama. Although she was positive her face had done all the talking for her. It’d been blazing hot, mostly likely red as a Washington State apple, and her eyes went so wide they hurt.
Normally, recounting something so mortifying would give her a good jolt, but Jack had invited her to eat with him the night before. Sure, they’d gone to dinner, but there’d been something different about the invitation last night. It felt… intimate. Special.
As her thoughts continued to replay the night before, she pulled a plate from the cabinet and lazily filled it with eggs and bacon, taking a small bite from one of the strips before dropping it on top of the eggs.
It’d been nice talking to him. He’d seemed completely floored that she’d put that much time into doing something for him. He’d had girlfriends. She knew of at least two in high school. Hadn’t they done anything for him? There had to be other girlfriends, too. What about them? How could they be with such a great guy and not do anything for him, especially if he did that whole sexy thing like he had the night before? Jo wasn’t even dating him and she wanted to show that she appreciated how hard he was working.
Learning about how he’d felt in high school cut her to the core. To be under that amount of scrutiny. To be held to that high of a standard was hard for an adult. Expecting a kid to maintain that seemed unreasonable to her. It did warm her heart that he’d trusted her enough to share a glimpse of what life had been like for him. It couldn’t have been easy.
Without even a thought, she’d hugged him. His arms had slipped around her body, pulling her close, and his breath had tickled her neck. Then she’d leaned back and the desire to kiss him had hit hard. It didn’t feel right though. He’d just bared his soul to her.
Although, more than once, she’d thought he was going to kiss her. In the kitchen, then in the living room, and again when she was saying goodbye. Each one she’d reasoned away, but was she wrong? It had sure seemed like he’d wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted to be kissed by him.
A kiss from Jack Turner. Just the thought gave her a pep in her step.
“What’s got you so -dreamy-eyed this morning?” her grandma said, bumping her shoulder.
“Dreamy-eyed? I don’t do that.”
Her grandma wiggled her finger at Jo. “Your face is saying something entirely different.”
Jo waved her grandma off. “Stop. It’s still the fog of sleep.”
“Yeah, fog of sleep named Jack Turner.”
“What about me and sleepy fog?” Jack asked as he walked into the kitchen.
A piece of bacon lodged in Jo’s throat, and she choked. She quickly set her plate down and braced her hand against the counter, working to clear her airway.
Now, she wished her grandma hadn’t given him permission to just walk in the house. At least with a knock, there would have been a warning. Something that could have indicated that maybe it wasn’t a good idea to be talking about him when there was a chance he’d overhear them.
“Here,” Jack said, shoving a glass of orange juice toward her.
Half the glass was gone before she was confident the coughing was over. Finally, she set the glass down and gulped air.
Fire raced down her spine as Jack settled his hand on her back and leaned over her. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she wheezed. “I’m fine. Sorry about that.”
When she looked up at him, eyes filled with concern met hers. “Sorry? What’s to be sorry for?” He nodded toward the table. “Are you okay to eat?”
With a nod, she shoved away from the counter just as his hand cupped her elbow, guiding her to the table. “You sit. I’ll warm up your breakfast, and we can eat.”
“I didn’t realize you’d be here this early,” Jo said.
