Gathering back her hair, Leah twisted it into a ponytail and concentrated hard on looking unaffected. She offered Jackson a forced smile, nodded weakly at Niamh, and tried to make her escape from the kitchen. He was right. Imaginary Matt was, too. She was an idiot. She was fortunate to live at Amity Court for now but it wasn’t her home.
“Wait.” Jackson’s girlfriend spoke up. She was eyeing him warily, like she’d been handed a leashed coyote when she’d expected to walk a poodle.
“What?” His tone was sharp as he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.
“It could be fun, that’s all.” A smile touched Niamh’s glossy lips. She closed her fingers around Jackson’s arm. “I don’t want to cook and we can eat out any time. Maybe have a think about it before you cancel.”
Leah hovered in the doorway. Silence lay between them all, as thick and heavy as a blanket left out overnight in the rain.
Eventually, Jackson pushed back from the kitchen counter with a gusty exhale. “You’ve bought the food already and made the arrangements. Might as well let them stand.”
Niamh hopped down from the bar stool and looked at Leah. “What time were you planning dinner for?”
“Seven?” Leah’s soft word was more of a question than a statement.
“Can you make it half past? Jackson’s taking me into town and I’d like time for a shower when we get back.”
All Leah could do was blink, wondering if she felt grateful to Niamh for her intervention or jealous of her self-assurance.
She stewed over Jackson’s attitude throughout the afternoon, but thankfully—and miraculously—the homely chicken casserole she made was delicious. The two realtors brought wine and a relaxed effervescence with them, which spread through the house and eased the tendrils of residual tension. They entertained the group like a double act, recounting tales of contrary clients and bizarre real-estate mishaps. Sam did the majority of the talking and Kash—quieter, sarcastic, and achingly funny—inserted the odd drole aside. Even Jackson couldn’t keep a rusty smile from tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Niamh had changed into a patterned shirt dress and paired it with tan suede ankle boots. All three men, more casually dressed, seemed to share her innate sense of style. It was a struggle not to feel like a scrubby mustang rubbing shoulders with sleek thoroughbreds in her own sweatshirt and jeans.
“I hope you all like apple crisp.” Leah carried a steaming dish to the table and set it down in the center, returning to the kitchen for a tub of vanilla ice cream.
“My favorite.” Jackson’s admission was gruff and surprising; she dished him up an extra-large portion as a peace offering. The apples were a bit undercooked but the ice cream made up for it.
“Are you planning on redecorating in here?” Kash ran his eyes over the interior of the vast living room.
Jackson nodded. “I’m taking down the paneled ceiling tomorrow. I want to see what’s up there—if there’s any original molding or not.”
As one, they all gazed upward.
Sam gave a low whistle. “That’s one hell of a job.”
“What kind of look do you think you’ll go for?” Kash asked.
“I’m not sure. Niamh thinks a neutral color scheme will appeal to more buyers.” Unfortunately, Jackson spotted the reflexive wrinkle of Leah’s nose. He pinned her with a hard stare. “You don’t agree?”
“It’s your house, your decision.” Flustered heat colored her cheekbones. When Jackson’s eyes flared, she wondered if he was thinking about their earlier run-in too. “I have zero experience with decorating on this kind of scale. I’m sure Niamh has loads more.”
“Say you had free rein, though, Leah. What would you choose?” Kash asked her.
“Um, I guess I’m drawn to bold shades and vintage patterns.” Leah brushed a wild, dark curl back from her face and glanced sideways at Jackson. “The scale of the rooms in this house cries out for something eye-catching and vibrant—like a strong color in here or emerald green tiles in the downstairs bathroom. I think it maybe needs that feeling of cozy luxury.”
“I agree,” said Sam, pointing at her with his spoon. “Personally, I think you’ve nailed it.”
Leah gestured toward the serving dish in the middle of the table in an attempt to change the subject. “Anyone want any more?”
Stretching an arm across the back of Niamh’s chair, Jackson shook his head. Though they seemed completely at ease with each other, it seemed strange that the two of them rarely touched and Leah strained to pick up any romantic vibes.
She wished she found him less attractive. She wished he didn’t reel her in with those brief flashes of something that tempted her to ignore his surliness and his unavailability. Jackson had made it clear that he didn’t need a friend, wasn’t looking for company, and had no use for chitchat—all the things she excelled in.
That was fine with Leah.
Herlife was complicated enough right now. Niamh was welcome to Jackson Hale and all his puzzling issues.
Chapter 14
