Tap. Tap.
It’s awfully late to have someone drop by. My first instinct is to grab my phone and check for a text. Nothing. I don’t want theknocking to wake Bella, and I quickly move to the door and look through the peep hole.
My heart cinches tight in my chest, and my breathing becomes unstable.
Cracking the door open, I peek through the gap.
“Hey.” Jackson shifts from one foot to the other and slides his gaze down to Rigsby, who beams back at me.
“I’m fresh out of lucky gloves,” I manage to say with a straight face.
His jaw drops in an exaggerated shock, clearly caught off guard by my quick wit. His expression shifts to one that’s more stoic and he draws my attention to a sack he’s holding. “I ah, brought Bella something.”
“You did?” I stare at it suspiciously, as if poisonous gas is wafting from the sack.
What is happening?
Why is he even here?
And bringing gifts.
I was able to resist his charm once.
That was hard enough.
He can’t just show up unannounced and flash that flirty smirk. “It will only take a second.” He respectfully drops his voice in volume. “Can we come in just for a minute?”
I toss a look behind me. To my surprise, Bella’s door is not closed. Her tiny button nose is pressed in the crack. “Why not?” Giving up, I fling the door open, and I raise my volume to an exaggerated level to make sure Bella can hear me. “You can stay for as long as it takes us to have one drink.”
Bella’s door flies open, strolling right up to Jackson without a hint of shyness. “Just the girl I wanted to see,” Jackson says, bending to eye level and tips the top of the sack toward her. “Reach in here and grab your present.”
Her eyes flutter with excitement, and a giggle escapes as she reaches into the sack. The moment her fingers make contact, her eyebrows rocket to the ceiling, and she lets out a delighted squeal. When she pulls her hand back, she has Little B.
My head snaps back as my gaze narrows in disbelief. I picture Jackson going to the cemetery, but I quickly reject the notion. “You did not.”
“It wasn’t so bad, right?” Jackson elbows Rigsby. The way he pinches his lips back, and Rigsby fills in the silence with nervous chuckles, makes me shake my head.
“I can’t believe it.” I’m surprised how even my tone is, since I suddenly feel breathless.
“Can we go play, Mom?” Bella tightly squeezes Little B to her chest. “I need to introduce Little B to her sister.” I force myself to ignore how many germs the bear must have collected after spending a night outside. I’ll wash her in the morning. Now is the time for a joyful reunion. Holding up both of my hands, I flash ten digits. “Ten minutes.”
She waves Rigsby forward, and they scurry off. I take a second to stare after them before returning my gaze to Jackson. With my heart hammering in my chest, I utter. “Come in.”
My legs teeter as I shut the door behind him and cross to the small kitchen to the coffee pot. He takes a seat at the table and watches me. There’s cold coffee resting in the bottom of the pot, and I take what’s left, divide it into two cups, and place the mugs in the microwave. “It’s not coffee shop quality,” I joke when I place one in front of him on the table.
“It’s perfect.” He picks up his mug and motions to the seat across from him. “You need to sit. I didn’t come over here for you to wait on me.”
I retrieve my mug and lower myself into the chair. Jackson leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. I notice he’s wearing another Granite Ice hoodie. It seems to be the only thinghe wears, but I’m not complaining. Before I can stop myself, I visualize borrowing those oversized sweatshirts and forgetting to give them back. I stare at the sleeve. It’s the perfect shade of navy and made of fleece that looks so soft I could get lost in it. Heat creeps in my chest.
Phew. Stop it. I am not catching feelings for this guy!
“I’m still amazed you went to get that bear. I love Bella with all my heart, but even I wasn’t going to crawl down there.”
“It wasn’t too bad.” He jerks his thumb toward the door behind him. “At least not with Rigsby to talk to. I wouldn’t have wanted to go there alone. I was surprised to see they hadn’t closed the grave, and the bear was right on top.”
I frown in contemplation. “I sing at funerals pretty regularly, but I never paid much attention to how the process works. It’s sort of rare for me to go to the graveyard.” Goosebumps ripple up my spine, spooking me to sit straight up. I declare, “Okay, new subject. I don’t need to visualize you traipsing around there at night. I won’t sleep for a week.”
“What do you want to talk about?” His puckish smile loosens something in me. Most of my everyday interactions are concise and serious. Everything in that smile says, “It’s okay to be playful,” and before I think of anything normal, I bleep out, “Well, what is your death row meal?”
