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I’m in so much trouble. At least it’s the good kind.
Jackson’s still in his office hours later. He ventured out for water and spent a few minutes chatting with his sister in the living room. It seemed like a heavier conversation, so I didn’t want to invade their privacy, but my heart has hung a bit heavier since.
She had to leave shortly after, but it was nice to bond with her for a few hours and learn a new trick to Jackson’s heart. I hope he likes the meal tonight.
With the food packed up and ready for them to take home, Cammie says, “This was fun. I can host next time. I’d like to try beef bourguignon, Julia Child’s recipe, and take my basic skills to the next level. I think Cade will love it. He’s got to be sick of all the casseroles I make.”
Tealey, holding her tote bag of food, says, “I’m in. Oh, you know what I’d love to learn how to cook?”
“What?” I ask so fast, I startle her. I think I’ve taken this secret assignment too seriously. We start laughing. “Sorry. What would you like to learn to cook?”
“Sourdough bread from scratch.”
Damn. That doesn’t help me . . . or does it. A bruschetta appetizer—simple and elegant. Man, I’m good at this. Maybe I should change careers.
Grinning, I say, “We could make this a regular thing—our very own cooking series. Once a month or whatever we decide.”
“That’s such a fun idea,” Cammie says, and then rubs her belly. “Maybe I’ll learn to make baby food.”
Tealey smiles, but if I’m not wrong, it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I should go. Hugs all around. Have a great week.”
She and Cammie walk out together. Closing the door, I lean against it for a few seconds before pushing off and then tending to the food. When I take the chicken I prepped earlier out of the oven, I then stick the potatoes in and pad down the hall in my bare feet.
With my hand raised, ready to knock, I stop when I hear him say, “Get the fucking lawyers in the office tomorrow. First thing, or they’re fired.”
I back away, unsure what to do. Pretend I didn’t hear him yell or be honest with him? Secrets seem to be ruling the day, and it sounds like he’s dealing with a Mount Everest–sized one.
I return to the kitchen and take two sips of wine before steeling myself and righting my expression. I want to lighten his load, not add to it. “Jackson?” I call, too chipper. I sound fake even to my own ears.
He comes out and walks toward me. “Smells great.”
“Thanks. Want to have a drink with me before dinner’s ready?”
“Sure. Yeah.” He grabs a baby carrot from the baking sheet before I put it in the oven and crunches down on it. “Did you have fun?”
“Yeah, it was a good time. I think I have an appetizer for the secret wedding.”
“You work fast.”
“It was a good setup to talk about food.” I take a sip of wine while he grabs a lowball glass from the cabinet. I reach down for the bottle and say, “Let me get the drink for you.”
Jackson stops and looks at me, it’s only a second, but then he smiles—leisurely like he’s taking me in and liking what he sees. “Thanks.” Moving to the barstool, he gets comfortable.
I fill the glass two fingers high and set it in front of him. “Neat?” I ask, ready to grab ice if he prefers the whiskey chilled.
“This is perfect.”
“How do you feel about secrets?”
“Secrets will always come out.” Sipping from the glass, he keeps his eyes on mine. “What’s on your mind? The wedding or something else?”
I return the bottle to the cabinet and then take my glass of wine and stand with the counter between us. “I wasn’t eavesdropping, just to say that up front.”
“That’s not a good start.” He takes a gulp like he’s going to need a crutch.
“When the girls left, I went to tell you dinner was almost ready, but I just caught the tail end of a conversation that you were having on the phone.”
He dips his head into his hand, his eyes leaving mine, and rubs his forehead. When he looks up, defeat has set into his shoulders, making him slump. “What did you hear?”
This time, I gulp, worried I’ve already upset him when tonight was supposed to be about me showing my appreciation. “I overheard you say something about meeting with the lawyers. And I know you only need lawyers when you’re in trouble. Are you in trouble, Jackson?”
His blue eyes study mine, but I can see the war raging inside. He shifts the glass around on the counter, but I don’t even know if he’s aware he’s doing it as if it’s a nervous tic. My stomach clenches as my mind starts to spin in concern. Finally, he says, “Are you worried I’m keeping secrets from you?”
