On my way up the stairs, I noticed my sweatshirt was gone. I left it in the same spot every night. And each morning, I slipped it on, even if I wasn’t cold. The renewed Jack smell on it was enough to get me out of bed each morning. He could lie till he was blue in the face. But I knew the truth. He was taking it to bed with him each night. Doing exactly what I was doing each morning.
The fact it was missing now proved it.
I should discontinue the game. It was silly.
I really should wash it.
I snuck downstairs as late as possible. I put off taking Kacey down for breakfast because I was still trying to recover from the embarrassing conversation last night. He was starting to ask questions and I needed to avoid confrontation until I decided how to handle the answers.
But by the time my head thumped with the need for caffeine, Kacey was whining for cereal. Today was Jack’s last day off. Part of me was glad to see him go to work. Kacey and I would have a little more free rein of the house, and I’d be less anxious every moment of my existence.
Jack’s house was nice. Two bedrooms, a spare upstairs, the master downstairs. The furnishings were basic, which didn’t surprise me. Jack, like the total neat freak he was, kept the place as neat as a pin. I did my best to clean up after Kacey so we didn’t disturb the aura too much.
I poured Kacey a bowl of cereal and myself a cup of leftover coffee from the carafe. The light had clicked off, but the joewas still hot-ish. Jack probably had his cup over two hours ago. I doubted he had creamer, but I peeked in the fridge anyway.
Front and center sat a Cinnabon creamer. A flavor so ridiculous and extra.
He must’ve put that on the grocery order.
Why were tears coming to my eyes?
I blinked hard a few times as I added the creamer to my cup. Right as Kacey and I sat down at the table, the front door opened.
A sweaty Jack walked in, still panting from a run.
Good gracious.
I swallowed a hot gulp a bit fast. Stared straight into the cup.
I glanced back at him. Just in time to see his perfect smile as he said, “Good morning.” His hair was mussed from the exercise, the long sleeve spandex shirt pulling tight across his chest. A slight dark shadow graced his jaw.
Can’t say it was only the bad dream keeping me awake. I’d thought about his shirtless chest until I worked myself into a tizzy. I didn’t know how I could be so angry at him, so afraid of what he might do, and yet still so drawn to him. It made no sense.
My confusion wasn’t my own fault. Jackson Barkley was just far too handsome for his own good. It’s a wonder there wasn’t a line of ladies at his front door. The fact he stayed uncommitted for the past four years was beyond me. Something told me there were probably some broken hearts involved. Like Miss Long Legs.
Even as I chided myself for admiring him, Jack stopped at Kacey’s seat and said, “Kacey, I hope you’re saving some of that for me.”
Kacey giggled. “No. I gonna eat it allll.”
The slow melt of my heart and pull of a smile was impossible to prevent. The simultaneous twinge in my gut and burn in my eyes was too.
Jack made a silly frowny face, and Kacey giggled some more.
He finally looked to me on his way into the kitchen. My pulse doubled. “Did you get back to sleep alright?”
“Took me a while. You?”
“Same.” He filled a glass of ice water at the fridge.
My imagination ran. Was he up thinking of me?
Stop, Miranda.
I cleared my throat. “Uhm, the creamer is amazing.”
His lips tilted into a tiny smile as he dropped into the chair next to mine.
“Thank you—for remembering such a small thing.”
