“Yes, sweetcheeks?”
Jackson growls into the phone. “Okay, fine, you’re being ridiculous. I just heard her moving around, okay. I miss her. Also, sweetcheeks isnotgoing to be my pet name.”
“Snookums?”
“No.”
“Bubba.”
Jackson growls again. “Definitely not.”
“Daddy?”
The silence over the phone is stifling. Oh no. I like to joke, but I’m not an asshole.
“I was just?—”
“I like Daddy,” Jackson says quietly, even a little timidly.
Well, that’s a new one. “Oh.”
“That’s a discussion for another time.”
“Alright,” I say, just as eager to move on as Jackson. “The flowers are beautiful. I really do love them.”
The sound of movement rattles through from the other end of the phone, like maybe Jackson’s walking around his townhome. I can’t be sure. But it’s oddly relaxing in a way I can’t explain.
“Your house needed some color. I also just wanted to make you happy.”
A knot forms in my throat. Jesus. Who is this guy? “Thank you,” I say quietly.
“You're welcome. I’ll pick you up on Saturday evening.”
I’ve never been more excited for a weekend. The week crawls by painfully slow. Sleep is hard to come by, but when I do sleep, I dream about Jackson. Dreams where I kiss him awake and burrow into his strong arms. The idea of kissing him plagues me. I wonder what he’d taste like? Probably something spicy, maybe even a little sweet. Cinnamon and orange.
I spend the majority of Saturday afternoon going through my closet like a man possessed. Half of my closet ends up strewn across the floor. Finally, I settle on the tightest dark-wash jeans I own, a form-fitting V-neck in dark green, and a leather jacket that Andy and I thrifted at an antique store in the panhandle one summer. Just as Jackson asked, I leave my hair down in loose waves around my shoulders.
At seven on the dot, a soft knock rattles through my door.
I tear it open, way more eager than I’ve ever been in my life. “Hi.”
Jackson grins, warm and wide. “Hi.”
His eyes sweep over me, obviously pleased with my outfit choice. I stand there awkwardly for a moment until he tugs me into his arms to bury his face in the crook of my neck. Curling my arms around his big body, I allow him to hold me. Warmth builds in the pit of my belly when he takes a deep breath, burrowing into my neck a little more as if my body brings him comfort.
“You always smell good,” Jackson mumbles against my neck.
I fight a shiver. “Cologne.”
“Hmm.” Jackson presses a kiss just under my ear. When he pulls away, his gaze meets mine just as his fingers curl around my hips under my shirt. His touch is burning hot and heavy, the weight of his touch coursing through me like hot lava. “You look good.”
“You look better,” I say, voice thick.
Jackson bites his lip in a way that sends my blood boiling. “Yeah?”
I nod, unable to utter a single word. Again, for one brief moment, I’m afraid he’s going to kiss me. Maybe this man just has that sort of look. But the way his gaze dips to my mouth tells a different story. No one has ever looked at my mouth as much as Jackson.
Clearing his throat, Jackson pulls away. He puts a careful foot between us. Nodding towards Honey, he brushes some hair out of my face so he can stare deeply into my eyes.
