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So, yes, this might have been a bad idea, but it was the right thing to do.
And it was really the only option I had that was available to me, because I couldn’t do what someone else with a different mindset might do in my situation.
A normal person would invite a guy like Jack over for dinner to have a lovely evening together with great conversation.
I didn’t claim to be normal, and that didn’t bother me one bit.
I’d rather keep my heart intact for once. I didn’t want to invite him over for dinner and imply the wrong thing. I didn’t want to send mixed messages about what this was for me.
It wasn’t anything more than me feeling an overwhelming desire to show my appreciation for all that he’d done for me.
This was the best way I could think to do it, too.
So, with hands that were shaking slightly and a belly that was definitely trembling with nerves, I walked down the front steps of my cabin and over to Jack’s, carrying a tray of delicious baked treats.
If it hadn’t been for the undeniable anxiety I felt about doing this, the blistery cold weather outside might have had more of an effect on me. I couldn’t be bothered to worry about feeling so cold when I was terrified about seeing Jack again.
I hated that I felt this way about seeing him, and I wondered why it was like this. Jack hadn’t done anything to make me feel uncomfortable, nor had he even indicated he wanted something more than just a friendly relationship with me, but for some strange reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he looked fixing my fireplace or the way his voice sounded when he was attempting to keep me calm during the bison encounter.
And his laugh.
I continued to recall the sound of his laughter the night he’d come over to put out my chimney fire.
Anytime I thought about those things, my mind would start getting the best of me. Question after question would filter through my mind.
Who was this guy? Where did he go to college? What did he do for work? Did he come from a good family? Why did so many different women show up at his place?
It seemed those questions never stopped until I landed on that last one. The thought of those women who’d come to visit him several times since I’d moved here to Cottonwood forced a sour taste into my mouth and a hollow feeling to settle in my stomach.
I hated that I felt that way, and I knew it was because I was jealous.
Not jealous of the women or that they had that time with Jack. I’d already made my mind up about not wanting that with him or anyone else. But I was jealous that they had that companionship, even if only for a few hours at a time.
I was alone.
I wasalwaysalone.
The more I recalled that fact, the worse I felt about it.
And seeing anyone having a connection with another person was just difficult to handle right now. I continued to tell myself that it would get better with time, though. I’d find a way to grow to love my independence.
Right now, that seemed impossible. For far too long, all I’d wanted was a family. But having it ripped away from me twice now was more than I could handle.
By the time I made it to Jack’s cabin, I was such a mess, I thought I would trip walking up the stairs. Fortunately, I managed to do it without an embarrassing incident, and I knocked on the door.
I waited a few minutes, but he never came to the door. Deciding he must have gone out—even if I hadn’t seen him leave—I had no choice but to make the trek back to my place.
But no sooner had I made it down the steps and to the front edge of the cabin when I looked toward the back of his home and had an idea.
My feet carried me through the snow to the fence Jack had up to contain his animals. The moment I peeked my head around the corner, Jack happened to look right at me.
“Hey, Dakota. What are you doing here?” he greeted me as he moved in my direction.
I did my best to try to remain unaffected by him, but it wasn’t easy. No matter how much I tried to convince myself that I didn’t feel any sort of attraction to this man, it would never be the truth.
He was handsome. Tall. Rugged.
And he was kind.
