Jackson’s fingers tightened slightly around hers. “Yeah,” he said after a beat, voice quieter. “I would.”
They walked until the chatter of town faded behind them completely, replaced by the steady lap of water against the rocks. The air was cool, but the sun carried just enough warmth to make Zoe lift her face toward it. She could feel Jackson’s gaze on her, and it made her skin prickle in the best way.
“This good?” she asked when they reached a small wooden bench tucked under a willow.
“Yeah,” Jackson said, “perfect spot.”
He sat first, stretching one arm along the backrest. When Zoe joined him, she leaned into the curve of his arm. From here, she could see the sparkle of the lake, the little boats moored at the far dock, and the faint glimmer of Krista’s Hot Honey Hideaway sign, by the boathouse across the water.
“Peaceful,” she murmured.
“Very,” Jackson said. “Though it’s always better with your company.”
She looked up at him, the words sinking deep. He wasn’t the kind of man who said things like that lightly.
“Careful,” she teased softly. “You almost sound romantic.”
He gave a small smirk. “Don’t tell my brother. He’d never let me live it down.”
She laughed, the sound light and breathy. “And what reputation is that? Brooding farm guy with secret depth?”
Jackson’s mouth quirked in amusement. “You forgot the rest—devastatingly handsome. Pretty sure I heard you say that at the market earlier.”
Zoe’s eyes widened, color rising in her cheeks. “You were not supposed to hear that.”
“Guess I’ve got good hearing,” he said, eyes warm with amusement.
Willow branches ruffled above them. She shifted closer, their thighs brushing. It was innocent enough, but the contact made her pulse trip. She could smell the faint soap-and-cedar scent of him, the warmth of his body beside hers.
For a second, her mind slipped into that dangerous, delicious territory she’d sworn not to visit.
She imagined turning toward him, pressing her lips to his jaw, sliding her hands beneath his jacket until she felt the heat of his skin. He’d kiss her back slowly, deliberately, like he’d been waiting for this as long as she had.
“Earth to Zoe.” Jackson’s voice broke through her daydream, amused.
She blinked, heat rushing to her cheeks. “What? Sorry. I was, um—thinking about tulip bulbs.”
“Right,” he said dryly, one brow arched. “You definitely had that tulip bulb look.”
She swatted at his arm, laughing. “Don’t make fun.”
He smirked. “Didn’t realize tulip bulbs would make you bite your lip like that. You sure it wasn’t something a little more…distracting?”
“You missed your calling as a gentleman.”
He leaned in just slightly. “Never applied for the job.”
The way he was looking at her just then sent heat straight through her. She tore her gaze away, pretending to focus on the rippling water.
“So,” she said, clearing her throat and desperately trying to sound normal, “what’s next for the Local Blooms project?”
Jackson leaned back, his arm still draped around her shoulders. “I’ve been thinking about the garden,” he said slowly. “The veterans could grow vegetables themselves, maybe even teach the kids’ group about sustainability. Something hands-on. People need to feel useful. Like they’re part of something good. You taught me that.”
For a moment, all she could do was breathe in the warmth of him, the quiet strength he carried, the way he looked at her like she was someone who mattered. Then his lip curled up in an almost-smile, and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“You’re something else,” she said, trying to keep things light.
“And yet, here you are,” he said, eyes cutting to her, “still holding my hand.”
