I squeezed her ass, harder this time. "You better pack fast."
Annette pushed open the door and I followed her into the narrow apartment. She handed me a reusable grocery bag and gestured to the baking pans and tools piled high on the kitchen table. "You work on the kitchen goods and I'll grab some clothes. Don't mean to break your heart but I will be bringing undies. Not everything can be fun and naked games."
I pointed at her with a muffin tin. "That's false. Fun and naked games are the gift of adulthood."
She moved toward me, her saucy expression crumbling with each step. "I am sorry." She ran her hands from my shoulders down to my wrists before tangling our fingers together. The muffin tin clanged to the floor. "I didn't say what I meant and it hurt you, and I'm sorry."
I leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I didn't say what I meant either. Not what I truly meant. I'm sorry I left."
Annette nodded, her grip tight on my fingers. "You look tired," she said, her brows furrowed. "Jackson, tell me you haven't been working around the clock since that situation at the inn."
"I could use a good night's rest," I admitted. "It will be better with you."
"Give me ten minutes," she said.
"Then we can go home?" I asked. "We can do this?"
"We're going home." She bobbed her head, a wide smile telling me everything I needed to know. "We're doing this."
26
Caramelize
v. To heat sugar until it is melted and brown.
Annette
"What is that?"Jackson murmured, his words vibrating against the tender skin at the junction of my neck and shoulder. "What is it and how do I make it stop?"
It took a minute to hear anything other than my need for him. We'd only just set my things down inside his home when we reached for each other and we hadn't been able to let go since.
After another trill, I leaned away, blinked, and glanced around his kitchen. After a long moment of concentrated listen-staring, I placed the noise. "It's my phone," I said, peering around him to see where I left my tote. Grocery bags loaded with kitchen tools littered the countertop, and my tote was hidden beneath it.
"The only person who needs you now is right here," he said.
"I know," I said, busy loosening his shirt buttons. "I'd rather ignore it but it just keeps ringing."
With a grunt, Jackson scooped me up and set me on the countertop. He kept one hand on my backside and used the other to dig through the bags and then upend my purse. He sifted through lip balms and tampons, coins and hard candies to find my phone trilling under my wallet.
"Where is the pepper spray I gave you?" he asked, holding the phone out of my reach. Brooke's picture flashed on the screen.
"I didn't have room for it," I said, grabbing for my phone. The ringing stopped but then quickly started again. "She doesn't know how to back down. She'll just keep calling. Better yet, she'll show up at the door."
"You didn't have room for it," Jackson said, still staring at the contents of my purse. "You have room for six different lipsticks but not one pepper spray." He turned his attention toward me, his eyebrow arched. "We'll talk about that later but don't doubt we'll talk about it."
"I'm sure we will," I said, taking the phone from him. "Hi, Brooke."
She didn't bother with pleasantries or preamble, instead launching right in. "Are you with him right now? I saw him walking you to his house with a bunch of bags but I need more information. Tell me everything."
"Yes, I'm with Jackson." I smiled up at him and his impatient scowl. "He took me home and I'm staying here. Me and all my stuff."
The scowl softened into a smile I couldn't help but return. "It's about time you came around to those facts," he said.
"It's my turn with you. Tell him to cut out the sweet sentiments for a minute," Brooke said. "What did he say? What didyousay? What's happening now? I need to know!"
Jackson stepped between my legs, pushed my skirt up to my waist. "Wrap it up," he said under his breath.
"Are we still on for wine and lunch this weekend?" I asked.
