“Just making conversation, buddy.” Aaron shrugged. “So, the lovely Annie would like some iced tea. I’ll have some too and a couple of those chocolate things.” He pointed to the iced brownies that Maggie had sent over. He thrust some money onto the counter.
“Fine.” Jackson handed him the change and turned his back, not sure why he was annoyed. After all, in a way Aaron Tremain had brought him and Frankie together.
It wasn’t his fault that I screwed up.
He finished up the order, careful to get the brownies perfectly in the middle of the plate and count out the blueberries before scattering them on the cream.
“You know what your problem is, Lang?” Aaron said in a drawl as Jackson reached the table.
“You,” he retorted, trying to mirror Aaron’s smug expression.
“Well, yeah. It’s obvious that I’m a problem. Don’t think I haven’t seen you lusting after Frankie. Must have cut you up when she made a move on me.”
Jackson put down the tray. “If you mention her name one more time—”
“Whoa. Relax!” Aaron said in surprise as he held his hands up. “Seriously, I have some advice for you.”
“You should listen to him. Aaron is, like, totally smart,” the lovely Annie chimed in, and blew Aaron a kiss. He pretended to catch it, and Jackson considered vomiting. He turned to leave them to their sick lovefest.
“It’s color,” Aaron called after him. “You look like a freak only wearing black and white. Why would a girl like Frankie ever look at someone so dull?”
He spun around. “Seriously, you’re giving me fashion advice?”
“Sure, why not? Clothes maketh the man.” Aaron puffed out his chest to show off the pink polo shirt he was wearing.
“They also make the clown,” Jackson said before stalking inside. Behind him, he could hear the lovely Annie and Aaron giggling and what sounded like…face licking? He shuddered and got back to work.
By the time five o’clock hit, he’d packed away the awnings and tables and was just wiping down the counters.
As he worked, a piece of paper fell down from the back wall. It was a drawing that Chelsea had done of Frankie. She had glittery pink fairy wings and a purple magic wand, not to mention green hair and an orange dress. He suspected it had been drawn under Miss Sparkle’s evil influence.
Still, Frankie had adored it.
Then again, she adored all of Chelsea’s drawings and had carefully taped each one up on the wall, turning it into a riot of color. A rainbow explosion. Bright and—
He froze as his mind did a rewind to what Aaron had said.
Color.
Frankie liked color. That night on the beach when he’d finally noticed the streaky purple of the dying light, what was it he’d figured out?
That she’d taught me how to see the world in color.
Understanding slammed into him.
He grabbed his jacket and locked up for the night. He knew exactly what to do. He had no idea if it would work, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t try. At least one plan was better than none.
And yes, the irony wasn’t lost on him that Aaron Tremain might have once again helped him out. Next time he saw the guy, he might even try and smile.
15
“You’re going to do what?” Via yelped as Frankie walked toward the square. Tourists were milling around, and outside the surf shop Aaron was leaning against the wall chatting to a tall brunette wearing a bikini. By her tally it was about the tenth girl he’d tried to hit on since Sam’s party. Frankie’s taste had really been quite shocking.
Correction. Her taste in Jackson was great. Now she just had to let him know. Hence her genius plan.
“I’m going to ask him on a date.”
“No,” Via corrected. “A date is going for a soda together. You want to hire out an entire bowling alley for two hours? Did we learn nothing from Summerfest?”
“We learned that even when grand gestures backfire, they can still work,” Frankie said in her defense. Besides, it was cute. Wasn’t it? Then she frowned. “And why are you trying to give me dating advice? I thought you didn’t believe in boyfriends.”
“I don’t,” her friend replied, but it didn’t have the same venom that usually accompanied it.
“Via…are you sure everything’s okay? Is something going on? Is it because of Hudson?”
“Of course not,” Via quickly replied. “That’s crazy talk. I hate that guy, remember? There’s nothing going on here. You have something going on.”
“Okay. Just asking,” Frankie said in surprise. Via would be back in a couple of days, and they really needed to have a proper talk. In the meantime, she had to focus on her plan. Or the lack of plan. After all, she had the venue but still didn’t have a clue how to ask him out.
She said a quick goodbye to her friend and put her phone away as she reached the fountain.
Her palms dampened.
What if Via was right?
What if it was a bad idea?
Lo’s words flashed through her mind.
Your mom was brave.
“I can do this,” she said out loud as a piece of paper fluttered on the trunk of an oak tree. It was a painting of a girl. Okay, that was random.
She kept walking as her mind whirled with ways to ask him out. Then she stopped and turned back around. That painting was…familiar. She walked back to the tree and stood in front of it.
The girl in the painting was about her age and was wearing a very pink fifties-style dress that was belted at the waist and flared at the skirt. She peered down at her own pink fifties-style dress.
Her mouth went dry as she stepped closer to inspect it.
In the corner was the artist’s name: Jackson Lang.
Wait. Jackson had painted a picture of her? And he’d used color?
The world began to buzz. The picture was stuck on with tape, and her hands shook as she carefully took it down.
Her finger traced the figure on the page. Blonde hair hung down the girl’s face, and her mouth was tipped at the ends as she laughed. Her eyes were a soft blue with dark lashes.
It was beautiful.
Is this really how he sees me?
“Jackson?” She spun around, but there was no sign of him. Another piece of paper fluttered, stuck onto the next tree. Her heart pounded as she hurried over. It was her again. This time she was wearing cutoff denim shorts.
Her legs were tanned, and her arms were folded in annoyance.
So much for thinking he hadn’t noticed how rude she’d been on that first day.
Her hands shook some more as she took down the painting and increased her pace. Her breathing was thick as she reached Rosie.
The tables were all set up, and the serving window was open. The sugar bowls were even filled. He must have been there for ages.
“Jackson?” she said for a second time, but there was still no answer. She opened the door and walked inside, and her throat tightened.
The wall where Chelsea’s many drawings had been was changed. The bright crayon figures were gone, replaced with exquisite artwork. Some of her. Some of Jackson. There was even one of Lo and Johnny on the night of their engagement party, kissing.
All in color.
But right in the middle was a gap. A perfect rectangle. As if one painting had been taken down. The faint scent of pine caught in her nostrils, and she spun around.
He was leaning against the doorframe. Dark curls pushed back off his face, his navy eyes uncertain. “Hey.”
“H-hey,” she said. “These pictures…when did you do them?”
“Turns out you’re not such a tough boss as you think. I had a lot of time on my hands this summer.”
Her mind flashed back to the day at the beach when it had started raining. It was before they’d kissed. The first time she’d seen his art. But when she’d asked to see more, he’d clammed up.
She gasped.
“When I was at your house…you had all of these?”
&
nbsp; “Most of them. Some were sketched out. Including a couple of you. I guess I didn’t want you to think I was some creepy guy who likes to draw beautiful girls.”
Something loosened in her chest. “No one minds being called beautiful.”
His eyes caught hers, and he tilted his head. “So, can I come in?”
“You work here,” she reminded him.
“I promised I wouldn’t get in your hair.”
“Oh.” Heat hit her cheeks, and suddenly Rosie seemed far too small. But all the same, she nodded. “You can come in.”
“Thanks.” He stepped in, his eyes never leaving hers. Then his voice broke, raw with pain. “Hell, Frankie. I’ve got no idea what to say. How to do this. I thought I had a plan, but—”
He had a plan?
“Y-you’re new to this,” she stammered, her heart fluttering like a hummingbird. “It’s hard to cover all your bases first time.”
Still his beautiful eyes stayed on her. Her whole body was shaking as she caught sight of one of the paintings. The Cauldron. The place where he went to think. She knew better than anyone how special it was. And he was sharing it with her.
A sob caught in her throat. “I’m sorry I sold your sketch to a stranger. That I even showed it to her. I had no right. And when I dragged you to the party. I knew you were uncomfortable, and—”
Then he was next to her, his hand gently lifting her fingers away from the painting on the wall. Warmth flared through her, and the pain in her chest eased. She’d missed him. Really missed him.
She swallowed back a second sob, though tears were blurring her vision.
“Don’t cry.” His voice was hoarse. “I hate that I upset you. No one’s given me the time of day before. I got freaked out. This one’s all on me. I messed up so bad.”
“What happened that night at the party?” she said, not daring to look up at him. They were so close now. He leaned forward until his chin was resting in her hair. She never wanted to move.
“I heard some people wondering what you were doing with a guy like me.”
Annoyance flared through her, and she pulled back. “Who said that? They had no right.”
He broke into a smile. “You are so freaking ferocious.” Then the smile faded. “You want to fight everyone’s battles and…I just wasn’t used to it. Here I was thinking Aaron was a douche.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t worry, you’re not wrong. Yesterday I saw him kissing Cassie Dutch, and today he was hitting on someone else. I should be thanking you for saving me from being on his list.”
“You saved yourself,” he said before reaching past her and shutting the serving window.
“W-what are you doing?”
“I’m making sure we’re not interrupted. There’s one more picture and it’s either going to end well, or…not. I figured it was safer this way.” He unzipped his leather jacket. His T-shirt was navy. The same color as his eyes. And okay, it wasn’t really the most out-there thing she’d ever seen. But for Jackson, who only ever wore white and black, it was something else entirely.
Not to mention that his chest was clearly outlined. And it was a nice chest too. She let out a soft sigh as he slid a final drawing out of an inner pocket of his jacket. He passed it over, his mouth straight with uncertainty.
“Another picture?” Confusion filled her eyes. “All that stuff you were saying about being creepy. This isn’t X-rated is it?”
“I really hope not. The artist in question is only six,” he said.
She unfolded it. His little sister had drawn two stick figures in bright crayons. One with blonde curly hair hanging down around her face, and the other with black hair. They were holding hands, and if she didn’t know better…
“Are we kissing in this?”
“Either that or our faces are melting together,” he said, still not moving. “I might have told her that people who kissed were boyfriend and girlfriend.”
“You did not.” The tightness lessened in her chest as she took a tiny step forward. Did he really want her to be his girlfriend? “I’ve seen you around Chelsea. She has you wrapped around her finger. You probably promised her I was your girlfriend.”
A smile tugged at his mouth, and he stepped toward her, his eyes never letting her go. “I wouldn’t say I promised,” he corrected. “But I might have said I’d try. She and Miss Sparkles thought it was a good idea.”
“Love advice from a green-haired doll?” Frankie let out a little giggle.
“I’m bad at this stuff. I need all the help I can get.”
“I don’t know.” Frankie looked at the drawing Chelsea had done. “You’re not doing too bad.”
He seemed to take that as a sign. A smile played across his mouth. “I know I wasn’t part of your summer plans. And even if you did want to forgive me for being the biggest idiot alive, you probably already have a brand new plan sorted out. Like, in fine detail. But I’m crazy about you, Frankie Hargreaves.”
He was crazy about her?
He wanted her back?
Was it possible to even be this happy?
Then she remembered her own grand gesture. She peered at him through her lashes. “Will you still be crazy about me if I told you I hired the bowling alley for two hours? For the two of us.”
His eyes widened. “You booked out an entire bowling alley. Just for me?”
“Go big or go home,” she reminded him.
“Fortune favors the bold,” he replied as his breath brushed her cheek. “So, you were going to ask me out on a date?”
She nodded. “I still am. Though it’s surprisingly hard without a plan. I was going to wing it.”
“Now that I need to see.”
“Oh, really,” she said, a bubble of joy catching in her chest. “Jackson, would you please, please, please come bowling with me? I figured if I hired it out, then nothing could mess it up. It will just be us.”
“I’d love to go bowling with you. But I swear that nothing can mess it up, wherever we are. I’m not that guy anymore.”
She pressed her brows together as she drank in his beautiful face. “I hope he isn’t gone completely. I kind of liked him. Especially when—”
The rest of her words were cut off as his mouth found hers.
His lips were soft, and his faint stubble rubbed her skin. She let out a groan as his hands tightened around hers.
“Yeah…he’s still here,” she finally managed to say before he drew her back in again. Somewhere outside Rosie a customer was politely knocking on the door. They ignored it.
Kissing Jackson was better than anything she could have planned. So much better.
Epilogue
Two months later
“I’ve got to admit this was a great date idea.” Via joined Frankie at the table where boxes of pizza were laid out, along with plates of Lo’s mouthwatering baking.
“What is?” Frankie took a slice of pepperoni and cheese. “Going bowling, or inviting everyone to come with us, then plying them with food?”
“Both.” Via grinned. It had been two months since the first time Frankie had rented out the alley, and while initially it was just for herself and Jackson, like the best plans, their future visits had been different.
Chelsea had wanted to join them, and it would have been crazy to take her without Jackson’s mom. It had been so much fun they’d done it again the following week. By then, Lo was back on her feet, and she and Johnny had tagged along. Not to mention Via and Hudson Trent, who her best friend was now dating.
They both turned to where a tall guy with pale brown hair was watching intently as Johnny did his run-up.
“Well, it’s been pointed out to me that it was a bit over the top for a date,” Frankie admitted as she chewed on her pizza. “It’s just as much fun with everyone.”
The rattle of falling pins and bowling balls rolling down the lanes filled the air.
“And thank goodness. Who knew Hudson would like it so much? I thought he spent all his time studying.
” Her cheeks heated up as Johnny got another strike, and he gave Hudson a consolation pat on the back. “One day Johnny might even stop wiping the floor with him.”
“What would be the fun in that?” Frankie grinned.
“Yeah, it seems to run in the family,” Jackson said as he appeared. He was wearing faded jeans, and his T-shirt was a soft hue of green. He was never going to break out into loud prints, but he’d come a long way. He grinned at Via. “Frankie humiliated me the first time we came bowling.”
“Please, tell me about it.” Via rolled her eyes. “Did she do that dance thing?”
“Hey,” Frankie protested. “That’s a legitimate victory celebration. Not my fault neither of you can bowl.”
“I have other talents. Such as hiding up trees and kissing cute boys.” Via shrugged as she stood up and walked to Hudson, whose bowling ball promptly went into the gutter. He didn’t seem to care.
Once Via was gone, Jackson’s hand found Frankie’s. Her stomach fluttered. He was the same guy she’d first met, but there were differences. He smiled all the time. She’d even once caught him grinning at Aaron Tremain. Which, okay, was a bit weird, but it was the only blip. In every other way he was the perfect boyfriend.
“You know I was joking about that dance, right? I like it. A lot.”
“So you’ve been checking me out?” She leaned closer, breathing him in. “That could be seen as creepy.”
“Seems to be a side effect of dating you. Is that a problem?” His face inched toward her, a smile hovering on his mouth. She wasn’t going to get tired of it anytime soon.
“I guess you have to take the good with the bad.” She gave a mock shrug.
“Know when to pick your battles,” he countered, his breath now skimming her cheek. Her eyes fluttered, and Jackson gave her a wicked smile. “Are you even listening to me? I could be telling you something vitally important.”
“Then you shouldn’t do it while you’re so close,” she chided as his other hand found hers. The butterflies turned to fireworks.
“I stand corrected.” His laugh was a low rumble and this time his mouth found hers and she forgot how to spell her own name.
How to Kiss a Bad Boy Page 15
