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“I do not need to hear that.”
“You just told me you plan on having a one-night stand, so we’re even.” Dakota sipped on her lemonade, tilting her head. “Although I don’t think it will take you long to find someone.”
Jess squinted her eyes. “What does that mean?”
“Oh, I don’t know…there’s this guy you know who has not only made it possible for you to open a bakery but has weaseled his way into spending every single day off with you this summer. Seems like a great contender.”
Her mind drifted to the feel of his palm in hers. “We’re just friends.”
“You sure he knows that? Because the way he looks at you…”
“Dakota, come on. Let’s not talk about boys. They ruin everything.”
Her sister’s shoulders fell. “Yeah. They kind of do.”
The hidden meaning in her words hung heavy between them. Jess hunched back in her chair as she took another sip of her latte. Her skin felt too tight, the sun beating down on her making her break a sweat.
“I know…I know there’s a lot to be said here, and I want to get us there, I do,” Dakota started. “Just not today, maybe? We could just…enjoy this?”
The tension in her chest melted, the feel of the sun soft on her skin again. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Dakota lifted a hand in Jess’s direction, reaching for her. But her belly bumped against the table, limiting her movement. She huffed and strained for a reach anyway, then gave up. Jess laughed at her sad little attempt to hold hands, and her sister kicked her under the table like old times.
“So, tell me everything about this little one. Was the first trimester really as awful as people say? Do you know the gender? What’s been your weirdest pregnancy craving?”
“Yes. No. Chocolate-covered bacon.”
“Chocolate-covered bacon?! You’re a pescatarian!”
“This baby isn’t,” she grumbled. “I’ve eaten so much pork, I’m afraid I’m about to give birth to Piglet.”
Jess grinned, scooting her chair forward so she could reach Dakota’s hand, the gesture making her sister beam with happiness. “But it will be such a cute little Piglet.”
Kevin wasn’t kidding; physical touch was his thing. Telling him it’s okay the other day was like opening up the floodgates, granting him access to touch her in ways that surprised her. When she was hunched over receipts calculating expenses, he came up behind her and ghosted a hand across her back. When she couldn’t reach her recipe book on the top shelf, he grabbed it for her with one hand, the other brushing her shoulder. When she handed him his daily kanelbullar on a paisley-patterned plate, his thumb swiped across her pulse before slipping the plate from her fingers.
The old Jess would have screamed at him to back off, to keep his hands to himself. But this Jess…? She didn’t hate it. His warm hands and the bump of his hip against hers felt like that small comfort during a chaotic first week. Even if the way he looked at her made her think comfort wasn’t the only thing on his mind.
Dakota was right, he was looking at her. Tiny little lines crinkled at the corners of his hazel eyes every time he glanced at her from across the shop, the hint of a smile always on his lips.
But she was freshly single and he was very much off-limits. The last thing she wanted was to hop into another relationship and share a bed with someone again, let alone her boss (even though she used that term lightly). She slept so well now. She enjoyed star-fishing in the guest bed at the Balls’ every night.
Kevin never pushed or asked anything of her, though. His touches were sweet and nothing more. They were safe. He was safe. So she let it happen, even let herself lean into it.
Kevin swung an arm around her shoulders as they walked down Main Street.
“You’re not even going to give me a hint?” she grumbled.
“Think about it a little bit, Jessica, and I’ll bet you can figure it out.”
She scrolled through the list again in her head. “No one in town offers a professional baking class, so that’s out.”
“Very perceptive. You’re so smart.”
She pinched his side. He screeched and staggered back, feigning being hurt. But it only took him a few seconds to reach her again, fingers brushing back and forth on her tricep. “What else?”
“Haverport is too cute for a grungy underground concert, and we’re not near a TV to watch Frodo for twelve hours, so those are out. I can’t afford Lacey’s, so I doubt we’re going jeans shopping right now.”
“You’ll be able to afford Lacey’s soon. We’ll manifest that.”
