She finally joins Bella and Rigsby, and I stand back, taking it all in.
My heart inflates, never feeling this full before. I know these aren’t my kids, and Kaci is far from my wife, but I can’t help but think this is what random days with a family would feel like, and I’m soaking it all up.
eleven
Kaci
I can feel Jackson’s gaze behind us. Maybe that’s why my fingers have the urge to tremble. As I guide Bella to the stuffing machine, my heart crawls farther up my throat. She picked out a bear, the same golden blonde as Little B. It’s not surprising, and yet it is. You’d think that after having the same bear all these years, she'd want something different.
“Her name is Little B 2, and she’s Little B’s sister,” Bella says as we move down the line. Her eyes sparkle as she watches the bear get stuffed.
“I’m getting a dalmatian,” Rigsby replies. “Just like the one I always wanted for real. And because they didn’t have a ferret.”
“That’s a good call.” Jackson chuckles as he comes up from behind me, leaning closer to talk near my ear. “And what are you getting?”
“Oh, none for me, thanks.” I shift my weight to the opposite leg, leaning away from him. It’s not that I mind standing this close to him.
I don’t.
I enjoy looking up at him and seeing the tiny lines in the corners of his eyes, but ever since my run-in with Chase last night, I’ve been overly self-conscious about how I smell, despite what Jackson said outside. It's been a long day, and there’s nothing fresh about my makeup. If I smelled like stress yesterday, I can’t imagine what I smell like today.
Jackson pulls an appalled face. “You have to get one too.”
“A stuffed animal?” A surprised laugh trickles up my throat. “I’ve long since outgrown those days. Now if you offer me a washer and dryer, then I’d be smitten,” I risk a joke and laugh at it.
“What’s your favorite animal?” His voice is insistent as he steps forward, surveying them.
My brain is numb. It’s been so long since I thought about what I like. “I don’t have one.”
“We need to fix that,” he murmurs and fake cringes like he’s in pain. “What about a favorite color?”
“It used to be purple, but honestly, I haven’t thought about it for a while.”
He waves toward the display of animals. “Come over here and pick something out, or I’ll choose for you—and don’t be mad if it’s a giant warthog.”
“They don’t have warthogs.” I chuckle as it’s crazy for him to spend money on a stuffed animal for me. I never expected him to do that for Bella, and it’s wasteful to add another one. “It’s a very sweet gesture.” I’m struggling to make eye contact. I get it—he’s used to women fawning over him, and this is just how he flirts. But I’m not in my flirting era. “What you’re doing for Bella is more than enough.” When I hesitate to go with him to pick something out, he snatches my hand and pulls me forward.
“Stop being so stubborn. Get in line and pick one out.” His words accompany a lighthearted chuckle, telling me he’s happyto do this. I don’t know why it is so hard for me to accept one kind gesture. Maybe it’s another one of those things that has been so long since it happened, I’ve forgotten how. Or maybe it’s because when Chase would find a rare occasion to do something nice for me, he’d later hold it against me. I just don’t ever want to be vulnerable like that again.
Plus, he’s still holding my hand, and it’s sending waves of heat up my arm.
All it takes is for his thumb to brush against my palm, and my shield against him starts crumbling. What is going on? I look at him, and he stares at me as if he’s challenging me to drop his hand. All other senses completely shut off, I’m only aware of the sensation of having his skin against mine.
A bubble of nerves swells in my gut. It’s light and airy, making me want to giggle—man, I haven’t felt this in years, if ever. Whatever this sensation is, it seems to block my memories. I can’t remember any interaction before this one. I’m not sure that anything is real beyond the heat radiating from his hand. I could so easily close my eyes and melt into these tingles, but—but—but my brain slams to a wall, instructing me to step aside.
I drop his hand.
Nothing dramatic.
Just making it known that we aren’t going to be holding hands like two teens. I step aside. There’s no point in messing around and flirting with each other.
His eyes flick to the wall of animals. Without asking me a second time, he looks at the guy working and says, “She’ll have a butterfly.”
My words asking why cling to the edge of my tongue. My heart rapidly pounds against my rib cage. He’s playing a game. I don’t need to get sucked into it. I never dated much, but the few guys I did date only wanted to use me. It took me a long time to seethat clearly. I’m not going back to that—even if my hand is still tingling.
It isn’t like me to be smitten because of a guy paying attention to me.
I don’t fall easily.
