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“My birthday present.”
****
Isabel had a great idea for Jackson’s birthday present, but if she catapulted forward and kissed him right now—like she’d wanted to in the kitchen earlier—that would be a colossal mistake. Sure she’d had fun at this party, but that was because of all the catching up she’d done with old friends. Certainly not because of Jackson Henley.
Though she had kept tabs on him in the crowd of guests all afternoon, hadn’t she? And perhaps she’d finger-fluffed her hair during her bathroom trip, knowing Jackson was out in the kitchen. Maybe she’d put a little extra dose of heart into singing “Happy Birthday” to him before he’d blown out his candles.
What had he wished for?
“I’m sorry I don’t have a birthday present for you.” She wandered back toward a circle of chairs and picked up some empty soda cans that had been left on the low table in the center. “I didn’t exactly plan to see you or attend your party.”
“I know.” Jackson followed her, gathering up some paper plates with cake remnants on them and putting them in her trash bag. He stumbled over something in the grass, but when Isabel looked down, she didn’t see anything there.
He’s a little drunk, isn’t he?
She wasn’t surprised. Nicole had made him plenty of Blue Mondays and then Isabel had seen him with a beer. She wasn’t judging. It was the guy’s birthday party after all. He deserved to let loose a bit. She had a feeling Jackson didn’t let loose often enough.
She was guilty of the same.
“I’m thinking, however,” Jackson said as he rearranged some chairs in a way that no one would ever organize chairs in a backyard, giving her further proof of his slight intoxication. “I’m thinking you could do something for me that would make a good birthday gift.”
Isabel stopped using a paper towel to wipe off some frosting on the arm of an Adirondack chair. “Do something? Like what?”
Jackson came over to her and tugged the trash bag from her grip. Setting it on the ground at their feet, he focused on her face. “You could go on a date with me.” His eyebrows rose as if he was as surprised as she was over what he’d said. Then his face got super serious—adorably serious actually—and he reached for her hand.
His skin was warm and Isabel would be a total liar if she claimed that touch didn’t affect her entire body.
“You’re drunk,” she said, but her voice was an uncertain whisper as she backed up a step so his grip on her hand fell away.
“A little. Yeah.” He grinned. “But not enough that I don’t know what I’m doing. I asked you to go on a date with me as a birthday present.” He sounded pretty sober, but he couldn’t possibly be?
Can he?
“You want to go on a date?” she asked. “With me?”
He swiveled around, pretending to search the backyard. “I didn’t walk up to anyone else and ask for a date.” He leaned in closer. “Besides, I think my brothers would kick my ass if I dated their wives or fiancée.”
“That does sound like something the Henley Hellions would scuffle over.” She chuckled, but it came out shaky and nervous.
“We’ve scuffuffled over less.” Jackson’s brows crinkled. “Scuffuffled? What is that word?”
“A drunken word.”
“Perhaps.” He straightened and put on a serious face again, but his eyes were a little unfocused. “So? A date?”
“I’m going to say maybe,” she said. “Then tomorrow, after you get rid of the hangover headache you’re bound to have, you can come find me and see if you still want a date or not.”
“And if I do still want a date tomorrow, will you say yes?”
“Maybe.”
He wagged a finger at her and narrowed his eyes. “Okay, Isabel Perri. I’ll play your game, but I want you to know, I will find you tomorrow and I will still want a date.”
“We’ll see.” She picked up the trash bag. “Give me your keys and let’s get you back to your cottage.”
“Good idea. Then I can start on that getting sober thing.”
“Uh-huh.”
