“And to think you used to not like freckles.” He twirls pasta on his fork, looking smug.
“I didn’t likemyfreckles. There’s a difference.”
“Well, either way, it sounds like it’s meant to be.” He shrugs. “Does this mean you’re going to get a dog?”
“I don’t know.” I set my phone down on the table, grabbing my fork. “Sometimes I feel like I can hardly take care ofmyself.”
“An animal is a huge responsibility. I’m glad you don’t take that lightly. I think that means you’ll be an intentional dog owner.”
He hums. “Sometimes it takes caring for someone else to help us learn how to prioritize ourselves. She might be what you need to finally let yourself enjoy a walk here and there and to finally go to bed at a reasonable hour. You should consider getting her, especially if it means helping a dog in need. I like seeing the way you light up, and looking at these pictures, it looks like she’s rather fond of you too.”
I glance down at the picture on my phone again. “Just like that.” Jax points to the involuntary smile that’s grown on my face. “Do you know what you’d call her?”
“Bella.” I hold up the picture. “Doesn’t she look like a Bella?”
“She does.”
“When I’m ready, I’ll adopt, and it won’t just be one dog. I want a couple, but I need to work on a few things for myself first.”
“That’s very honorable.”
I plaster on a smile, hoping I didn’t say too much. I don’t want to ruin our evening by telling him how exhausted I’ve been lately. Between Austin invalidating my feelings when we were together and me taking over for Charlie when he left, I’ve learned to keep things pushed down. But Jax is so wonderful. Maybe Ishouldtell him. Maybe he’dwantto know. He’d probably even be supportive.
“You look distracted, Freckles. What’s going through that beautiful head of yours?” Jax’s rough voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I’m honestly a little relieved.
“I was just thinking about how incredible this pasta is. Where’d you learn to make it?” I shove a mountainous bite into my mouth.
He assesses me with a look of doubt for a little too long, but finally he decides not to press me any further. “My mom got it from a neighbor when we lived in Oklahoma. I think she knew what was going on in our house. Mom refused to accept help, but she’d occasionally accept dishes the neighbor would bring over.” He shakes his head. “A couple years later, after she mastered the recipe, Mom taught me how to make it.”
“That was nice of your neighbor to share her recipe.I’mcertainly grateful.” I twirl another large bite to prove my point.
As we finish our meal, Jax’s gaze on me doesn’t waver, like he knows I’m hiding something and staring me down is going to help him get to the bottom of it. Still, he doesn’t try to pull it out of me.
I polish off my glass of wine, and by the time I swipe our empty plates from the table, we’ve both settled back into some semblance of ease.
Setting the plates in the kitchen sink, I say, “Thank you again, Jax. This was delicious.” I swipe the sponge over my empty dish before pausing. “You know, it’s kind of annoying that your name is so short. It’s hard to give you a cute nickname.”
“My nickname for you has nothing to do with your name. I guess I’m more creative than you.” He shrugs, moving in next to me to dry a dish.
I press my lips together. “Honestly, you probably are because I’ve got nothing.” I empty the leftover meal into a Tupperware before putting the pan in the sink.
“Let me clean that.”
“No way. You cooked. I clean.”
“I wanted to make tonight special for you. Let me do both.”
“That’s sweet, but no.” I snatch the pan back. “Maybe your nickname should be Hog since you like to hog all the chores.”
“That’s a horrible nickname.”
“Grinch could always make a comeback.”
“No, absolutely not.” He hip-checks me before crossing the kitchen to put the dry pan away.
“I can make it cuter and call you Grinchie.”
“That’s even worse!”
