Jack shrugs, hands still tucked behind his back like he’s cataloging every threat in the building. “Needed a second act.”
“And your first was…?”
“Army. Special operations.”
“Explains the brooding,” I say, then slap a hand over my mouth. “Sorry. That was?—”
“Accurate,” he replies, completely deadpan.
I crack up. “Okay, Agent Cupcake. You’re growing on me.”
He doesn’t look at me when he replies, but his voice is just a shade warmer than before. “You’ve been under my skin since the second you smashed a cupcake into my chest.”
“That wasaccidental.”
“Sure it was.”
“Ipanicked!There was a goat!”
We stop at the door just before the lobby, and I pause, breath caught.
His eyes are on me now. Just me.
“If anything happens,” he says, low and serious, “you text me first. Not Wyatt. Not the school. Me.”
I nod, heartbeat doing gymnastics. “Got it.”
“Good.” He lifts one hand like he might touch me, then drops it just as quickly.
Before I can say something flirty or faint from the tension, the reporter barrels through the doors, microphone in hand. “You must be Stella Hart! Mind if we chat real quick before the bake-off judging?”
I flash my best pageant smile. “Of course!”
As she guides me away, I glance over my shoulder.
Jack’s still standing there, arms crossed, watching me like I’m both a puzzle and a bomb.
I’m not sure if he wants to solve me…or detonate.
Either way, I think I’m doomed.
And maybe?
I don’t mind.
FOUR
JACK
She walks through the crowd like she doesn’t know she’s a magnet.
For chaos.
For danger.
Forme.
Stella Hart is a walking contradiction—sugar and spark, soft hands and reckless courage. And ever since she ran face-first into my chest covered in cupcakes and sunshine, I’ve been circling her like a storm with no intention of touching down.
