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Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t have to work that hard. You’re already invited.”
“Honest. My mom taught me the popcorn thing, and I’ve loved Terminator since I was a kid.”
“Oh. Craig hated anything in his popcorn, and only watched foreign films that had subtitles. That’s when he wasn’t working. Not that I think anything is wrong with those sorts of movies. They’re perfectly fine. I’ve got nothing against them really, I don’t, but some of them can be so pretentious and…” She stopped short and rolled her lips in. “I was rambling.”
Adorably so. He held back a laugh. “Maybe a little.”
She threw her arms around him again. “I’ve missed you, Jack. Thanks for coming over.”
He returned the gesture, setting his cheek on the top of her head. “I’ve missed you too, Jo.” He’d missed holding her and how she felt in his arms. The smell of her shampoo. The softness of her skin. The little wrinkle in her nose. The way her eyes sparkled.
He wasn’t sure when it’d happened, but her essence had invaded his, and it was mixed to the point that it didn’t feel right when she wasn’t around. It had happened so fast, too.
Leaning back, her eyes searched his. “Can we be friends? Like real friends?”
Oh, he wanted and needed so much more, but he also knew that pushing too hard would make her retreat. The last few days without her smile were some of the dreariest in recent memory. “Yeah, we can be friends.” The words lifted him up and crushed him against the floor at the same time.
She lifted on her toes, touched her lips to his cheek, and hugged him around the neck. “Thank you.”
Yeah, he wanted more, but he’d settle for this. It was better than living without her.
CHAPTER 17
Jack
Nervous energy tickled Jack’s spine, making him antsy.
After watching movies with Jo the night before, he’d asked if she wanted to see some of the furniture he’d made. It wasn’t often he invited people to see his work. When it didn’t sell at the art fair, he’d just assumed it was bad, but this was Jo, and if he was going to share it with anyone, it was her.
Taking a rag, he went to swipe it over the older pieces. Layers of dust had gathered since he’d stored them in the shop. Maybe he should have covered them with something, but the shop was well-built with no leaks. He coughed as he kicked up dust.
“Jack?”
Man, he should have thought of dusting them before now. He tossed the rag, fanned his hands to clear the dust from the air, and walked to the entrance of the shop.
The moment Jo came into view, the world seemed right.
Watching movies with her the night before was fun in more ways than one. First, he’d had the privilege of seeing her childhood bedroom, still very much a throwback. Pictures of boybands dotted the walls, along with photos of her and her friends, even a few with Craig. The furniture was an antique white with flower details. Her bedding was too cute. Apparently, she loved hippos because not only did her pajamas sport the animal, but so did her comforter and the figurines that lined the highboy next to her closet.
Her relationship with her grandma was sweet. There were a few times he’d caught her grandma giving Jo the same eye Jack’s mom had given him at times when she thought he liked someone as she was doing her best to meddle.
A little after midnight, the movie had ended. They’d devoured the popcorn, and she’d walked him to the front door. That’s when he’d asked her to meet him at his shop. It’d popped out, mostly out of need to see her and some out of giving her a peek into what made him Jack. He figured he’d seen her inner sanctum; it was only fair to share his.
“Hey, come on in.”
She walked in and looked around. Her gaze darted this way and that as she seemed to take it all in before turning left toward the row of tables on the left side of the shop.
He’d never had anyone study his work the way she did. Most just glanced over it and moved on. Not her. She stopped in front of one of the more difficult pieces, the one with marble inlay. That piece had taken him hours. It was one of his first tables. He’d cut pieces, fit them, trim them a little more, and finally assembled it.
“Jack, this is…” She paused long enough to look at him. “You made these?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, why do you sound so surprised?”
“Because this isn’t just furniture. These are works of art.” She went back to studying them, brushing her fingers over the geometric patterns. “How many hours did this take you?”
He joined her in front of the table. “Uh, a few weeks, maybe more. If I tell you something, you can’t laugh.”
Her eyes met his. “I would never.”
