With a roll of my eyes, I mumble, “For now.”
Andy chews her slider thoughtfully, eyes shrewd, gaze intense on me. Sometimes, I feel like a specimen under her stare as she tries to piece me together from bits of information she’s gathered over decades of friendship. But I’ve always been very careful to share just enough to keep people happy. The art of being mysterious.
“I wish I knew everything that’s going on in that big wonderful brain of yours, but I won’t even bother. Even if I did know, I bet none of it would make a lick of sense to me.” Andy finishes her food, making a grab for the pickle on my plate. I gesture towards it since I hate pickles, it’s been hers since we were kids. She takes a bite out of the crisp veggie, then waves it at me. “You think he’s going to fuck and run.”
I bristle at her correct guess. “No.”
“Yes,” Andy sings. “Well, I hope he proves you wrong. Trevor and Eli have been gifts to Beau and Colby. Maybe Jackson will be a gift to you too. You’re a delight, Harper, any man would be lucky to have you.”
I hum in answer, although I disagree. Once we’re done with lunch, Andy drags me over to show me the sunflowers as if I haven’t seen them a million times. Stupidly, and against every intelligent urge in my body, I pick a sunflower stalk to present to Jackson this coming weekend. He’s not the only one who can give thoughtful gifts. I can do it, too, if I allow myself to do it.
For the remainder of the week, the sunflower taunts me from a vase in the center of my kitchen island. Jackson texts me throughout the week, but I keep my answers short. Maybe he will get the hint and finally move on. Nothing about me is easy, so why stick around? I’ll let him have me, but I never said I’d make it easy. The man seems to enjoy the push and pull, so I’ll give him what he wants. Until he gets tired of me.
Saturday morning, Jackson shows up on my front stoop looking good enough to eat. Dark jeans again, a henley, and aleather jacket over his broad shoulders. Devil may care. His grin is wide and sweet, almost bringing me to my knees. I want to hate him; I do. But I focus on the sweet daisies held in his tight grip.
He holds the flowers out to me, eyes sparkling with some nauseating emotion I can’t parse. “For you.”
“Why?” I ask before I can censor myself.
Jackson quirks his head to the side. “’Cause I wanted to. Do I need a reason to bring you flowers?”
I bite back the urge to scoff. That’s not very nice of me. Instead, I turn around and lead him into the kitchen. I gesture toward the still-blooming sunflower.
“That’s for you.”
Jackson grins, but his eyebrows furrow in confusion. “You picked a sunflower for me?”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
Surprising me, as usual, Jackson puts the daisies in the vase so that they’re surrounding the sunflower. It shouldn’t work, but oddly it does. Kind of like me and Jackson. Again, this is another observation I’ll never utter out loud. I don’t need to go spouting nonsense about flowers representing us or some stupid, lovestruck word vomit.
Jackson finishes arranging the flowers with a triumphant grin. His gaze sweeps the room, obviously checking for Honey. Once he sees she’s still asleep on the sofa, no vest, his smile blooms even larger. He’d asked if she could stay behind today, although I didn’t quite understand why. Obviously, I can go places without her; I just prefer not to. She’s my safety blanket.
His large palm wraps around my neck, his skin still a little chilly from the outside. He promptly and without words drags me in for a lazy hello kiss. My body melts against him, in total disagreement with my overly loud brain. Curling my arms around his broad chest, I dig my fingers into the expanse of hisback. Jackson moans against my mouth, taking the kiss from chaste to sinful in one single millisecond.
As we kiss, he backs me up against the kitchen wall. My back hits it with a loud thud, but Jackson cushions my head with a gentle palm at the back of my head. I moan like a damn porn star right into his mouth, needing, wanting more of him. One hand is in my hair, the other beside my head; he kisses me with so much passion that my brain just turns right off. All I can focus on is the sweet, gentle slide of his lips against my own.
The taste of his mouth will be seared into my brain for eternity. God. He tastes like coffee and a hint of mint, as if he brushed his teeth and then downed a cup of coffee. Something about that is just so decidedly human that it somehow turns me on even more.
He tears away from my mouth with a pained moan. “You kiss like fucking sin, Harper. Jesus.”
I blink up at him in a horny daze. “Really?”
Jackson nods, gaze still a little glassy from our kiss. “Who taught you to kiss like that?”
I cock my head to the side in confusion. Doesn’t he know? “You.”
Jackson’s thumb pauses in its gentle rubbing of my jaw. “Me?”
“I told you…” I trail off, embarrassment burning through me.
“Fuck.” Jackson dips down to kiss me again, softer this time. This kiss is more of a flicker than a raging inferno, but it still sends my heart galloping. He pulls away to rain sweet kisses across my face, murmuring words I can’t decipher through the onslaught of his lips.
When he finally pulls away, his eyes are lit with joy, teeth glinting through his blinding grin. “You’re perfect for me. You really are.”
“Don’t be disgusting.” I shove him away while awkwardly clearing my throat. Jesus. He makes it hard to keep a grip on myself while he’s around. Something about him just makes me want to fall to my knees. I have no idea what I’d do then, but surely I’d figure it out. It can’t be that hard.
Jackson strides over to the couch to give Honey a sweet pat on her back. The dog has the gall to roll over, sweetly asking for belly rubs. Jackson acquiesces for a moment, then bends to press a kiss to her snout. A moment later, he’s hustling me out of the house, eagerness radiating off of him. My eyes immediately land on the gleaming motorcycle parked at the edge of my driveway. All the blood in my body rushes in my ears until I feel a little dizzy with it.
