Jackson shrugged. “I just like making her happy, alright?”
That seemed to be Liam’s cue to back off. Liam knew better than to needle Jackson too hard about Zoe. That kind of ribbing might’ve earned him a punch when they were kids. Hell, it still might now if Liam pushed it.
After Liam left, Jackson spent the rest of the afternoon working in the greenhouse. He loved its warm, humid air, the earthy aroma of damp soil and green shoots. He’d missed that smell overseas, where the air had been hot and dry enough to crack his lips and parch his throat in less than an hour outside.
Jackson had set up a workstation inside the new greenhouse. He liked being there more than in his bedroom, where he also had a desk. He would’ve put one in the llama barn, but Daisy and Tinsel never left him alone. They knew that if he was nearby, there was a good chance he’d sneak them extra treats, and they’d chatter at him until he gave in.
Instead, Jackson had built a fifty-foot-long, thirty-foot-wide wooden desk along the back wall of the industrial greenhouse. His laptop sat there among tools, rakes, hoses, gloves, and supplies Zoe had recommended, all neatly stacked within reach.
“Wow, these are looking great,” Zoe said suddenly, making Jackson jump. He tugged his earbuds out. He hadn’t even heard her come in.
“Look at these roses, and the daisies, and the calla lilies! I’m in heaven.” Zoe beamed.
He stood and joined her at the flowerbeds.
The smell of rain clung to her skin. Her lips were a soft peach-pink, and the cerulean blue of her eyes drew him in.Suddenly dizzy with desire, he wanted to touch her face, slide his fingers along her cheek, pull her close, and finally have the long deep kiss he’d imagined for days—weeks—years.
She had always been his first crush, the first girl he’d noticed.
But they hadn’t had a future. He’d already enlisted. One foot out the door, a future he couldn’t even picture yet. Zoe was the kind of girl you stayed for, and he had left. He told himself friendship was safer, cleaner. But the truth was, he’d been half in love with her even then, and too damn scared to ruin the one good thing he had.
She drifted over to his desk.
“I checked up by Willowbend Bridge from Mrs. Alders’s book. No Moonlight Kisses, I’m afraid,” she said wistfully. “But Madison called. She and Zach are putting together a double date. Something about axe throwing at the Miller barn. You in?”
“Axe throwing?” He set down his pencil. “That’s one way to test if we’re compatible.”
She grinned. “Afraid I’ll be too good at it?”
“Terrified,” he said dryly, stepping closer. “But at least I’ll die impressed.”
Their laughter mingled easily, the sound soft and warm in the quiet space. But then something shifted. It was a feeling that neither of them could laugh away.
Jackson’s gaze drifted over her rain-damp hair, the faint flush on her cheeks, and the little freckle just below her jaw. He was still half remembering the press of her body against his back on the motorcycle, her arms around his waist, the way she’d looked at him in the library yesterday with her eyes heavy and lips parted as they put on their show.
He needed to stop thinking like this.
“Are these the final plans?” Zoe leaned over his desk, looking at the final sketch he’d put together of the tiny houses for veterans to stay in, by the garden and the llama sanctuary.
Her tone was all brightness and quiet wonder as she said, “It’s beautiful, Jackson. Really beautiful. You’re building something that’s going to change lives.”
He looked away, throat tight. “Just trying to give people what I wish I’d had.”
Her hand brushed his arm, fingers light on his skin.
He didn’t mean to catch her hand, but he did. She didn’t pull away. The moment stretched between them, the air thick with the scent of earth and sawdust and something sweeter—her.
Jackson caught her wrist, thumb grazing the pulse beneath her skin. “You always show up at the worst times, you know that?”
She looked up. “Why’s that?”
“Because every time I think I’ve got my head on straight…” He leaned in, his breath mingling with hers. “…you do this.”
“Do what?” she whispered.
He was still telling himself not to kiss her when he saw a familiar silhouette moving toward the greenhouse. It was his mom, walking briskly from the house.
“Beth,” Zoe said softly, spotting her too.
