He thought of the evening she’d removed the slivers from his arm. There’d been a moment where he felt he could kiss her—that she’d allow it, and kiss him back in return. Of course, he’d been pulled from that thought quickly enough, but the opportunity was presenting itself again. The dreamy, half-closed set of her lids. The way her gaze drifted like a feather down to his lips.
Too soon, he assured himself. Much too soon.
But then a voice crept in. The one that reminded him of what Jessie’s friend said at the auction: Jessie is not in the market for a man—she plans to stay single forever. Perhaps this was a moment that wouldn’t come again. A moment he needed to seize.
A muted buzzing sounded from … well, he wasn’t sure where.
Jessie backed up and tucked a hand into her pocket, retrieving a small phone. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s Charlotte. I’ll just be a second.” There was no better word for the look in her eyes than regret. Whether she didn’t want to hurt Trent’s feelings or she was genuinely disappointed by the interruption, he couldn’t say.
“Hello?”
She was close enough that Trent heard the voice coming from the receiver. “How’s it going?”
Jessie shifted her gaze to him, causing that heat to stir low in his belly. “Good.” She stood, resting the blanket on Trent’s lap, and walked a few steps toward the pond. But that didn’t stop him from hearing Jessie’s end of things.
“Um hmm. Yeah. Is that the only reason you called, or …” She glanced over her shoulder and cracked him an apologetic grin. “In the cupboard. Where they always are.” She laughed. “I don’t know. I’ll see … Not if I stay on the phone all night.” Another laugh—this one heartfelt and contagious.
Jessie ended the call and tucked the phone into her pocket, shaking her head as she spun back to face him. “Wow.”
“Big emergency at the inn?” he asked with the lift of a brow.
“Hardly.” She stopped walking, motioned for him to come her way. “Want to walk?”
He nodded and stood. “Sure.”
They headed along a trail, over the bridge, and past a busy family of ducks paddling in the water. Along the way, the two exchanged memories. Likes, dislikes. He learned that Jessie had never had a pet. Well, a goldfish, she had said, which is pretty much like owning a plant. He told her about the time they had to put his dog down. How his dad told him he could go wait in the car, but Trent refused. Instead he held him on his lap as he took his last breath.
“I can’t imagine that,” Jessie said, slowing suddenly.
The sun had taken its bow just moments before, leaving them caught between light and dark. And though he liked how the colors of the sun had accented her eyes, the pale light complemented the mystery in them.
“How old were you when that happened?”
“Thirteen.”
She frowned. “That’s awful. Thirteen is already a tough age. For a girl, anyway. What was thirteen like for you? Other than losing your dog, I mean?”
“I’d say seventeen was the toughest year for me.”
“So do you have any siblings—brothers, sisters?”
Trent’s heart was a jackhammer. Should he tell her now? Put a damper on the entire evening? At last he shook his head. “It’s just me.”
She held his gaze for a breath or two, adding to the chaos in his head. “Me too,” she said. “I always wished I had a sister, though.”
Trent let out a sigh of relief, but her eyes were still serious. No lines crinkling the edges—no smile at her lips. He couldn’t get himself to speak. Merely stood there, dissecting the shift that had taken place between them. Unless he was reading her wrong …
Jessie pulled on his arm, encouraging him to walk off the trail. With slow, backward steps, she led him toward a large tree.
His mind shot into race mode. No, he wasn’t reading her wrong at all.
Jessie leaned her back against the trunk, those seductive eyes locked on him. Her hands moved to his waist, a layer of fabric between her warm fingers and his skin. His heart shot into a race of its own.
Tentatively at first, he moved his hands to her waist, gave in to the urge to grip the warm curve of her hips, and sighed. What are you doing, Trent?
The answer came back louder than the question: Anything she wants.
Chapter 14
The twilight hour suited the moment perfectly, Jessie mused. Shades of gray all around. And this—whatever it was between her and Trent—was definitely a gray area. She wasn’t making any promises to him, and he hadn’t asked. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t give in to this, right? This incredible feeling of a man’s hands on her hips. The gentle brush of his nose along her cheekbone. The hitched sound of his breathing as he traced his lips over the lobe of her ear. The feel of his warm breath there.
During a rebellious bout in her late teens, Jessie had been in the company of guys who knew nothing of how to treat a girl. She’d endured their affection, believing it was all she’d ever know. All she deserved.
But this. This was different from any sensation she’d experienced. And whether it was wrong or right—closer to black or white—Jessie would experience what it was like to have the affections of a man. And Trent Lockheart was definitely all man.
“Thank you for tonight,” she whispered, lifting her chin the slightest bit.
“My pleasure.” The heat of his breath—so close it tickled her mouth—was an enticement all its own, reminding her just how near his lips were to hers.
The anticipation was more than she could take.
It was probably the guy’s place to move in for the first kiss, but Jessie knew that she’d given a lot of mixed signals. This was one he wouldn’t mistake.
With a slow but steady movement, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.
Gentle. Testing. Mmm …
“And thanks for donating to the fundraiser,” she said before giving him another exploratory kiss. She tipped her head back to inspect him, wondering if he felt the same hypnotic rush that surged through her like a life of its own.
Light from the streetlamp broke through spots in the canopy of leaves overhead, lighting his expression. Brows slightly furrowed, eyes narrowed, an aching look on his face. No, she realized as his hand slipped up the back of her neck, it was longing. Desire.
He came in this time, the blessed press of his mouth to hers. She wondered—just for a second—if he would offer the teasing sort of kisses she had.
He didn’t. His lips met hers with a certainty she hadn’t expected. Strong. Confident. Unbelievably good. And impossibly better than her dream.
A deep groan sounded in his throat. His grip tightened around her hip. All of it added to the bliss. The sheer thrill of allowing herself to give in to such a guilty pleasure.
A soft whimper fell from her lips. Passion. More than she’d known. It was hypnotic. Dangerous, even.
Jessie pushed the errant thought away. It would only be dangerous if she expected something from Trent, which she didn’t. This—this night, this kiss—was all she needed. It wouldn’t go further than that.
So this is what freedom felt like. How had Jessie gotten it so wrong in the past?
What had to be a silly-looking grin pulled at the corner of her lips for the millionth time that morning. Up until now, she’d had the idea that it was all or nothing. You either let a man into your life, or you keep him out altogether. Jessie hadn’t realized that she could have her cake and eat it too. And oh, what a delicious cake it was.
Trent Lockheart had allowed her to experience something she never thought she’d have—not without all the complications of a relationship.
Thank you, subconscious, for putting the dream in my mind.
And thank you, Trent, for making that kiss a heavenly reality.
The crepe makers let out a small beep, letting her know the batch was done. She snapped out of her daze, peeled back the delicate edges of each crepe, and added them to the batch. With little thought in
the action, she dipped the flat face of one crepe maker into the batter and then the next, eyeing the spread of toppings as the crepes set. Sliced strawberries, plump blueberries, and freshly whipped cream. Oh—She darted over to the cupboard, grabbed the Nutella, and set it on the counter. Perfect.
Like the constant pull of a compass needle, Jessie’s mind was drawn to the moments she and Trent shared beneath the oak tree. Talk about bliss! And the beauty of it was, Jessie wasn’t worried about when she would see him next. She didn’t care whether he chose to come down for breakfast or not. Whether he showed up for social hour or decided to work late. It wouldn’t bother her if Trent stayed out all night long and showed up in the morning, all tousle-haired and disheveled.
That last image wasn’t as easy on her as the others—the mere idea sparked something she did not want to engage. The word “jealousy” tried to eke into her mind, but she refused to let it in. No. He’d do what he wanted and so would she. If things ended between them now, that would be just fine. But if she and Trent happened to share a few more late-night kisses … she’d welcome that all the more.
Chapter 15
“How’s your breakfast?” Jessie floated around the brightly lit kitchen like some sort of culinary goddess. Fluffing the whipped cream with a serving spoon, adding berries to the dwindling bowl, and wiping the counter along the bar.
Trent removed the toothpick from his mouth. “Good,” he said. “Too good, in fact. If I eat so much as another bite, you’ll have to roll me on out of here.”
She rearranged a vase at the round table by the window where a small family had been. She took time to smell the flowers he’d given her; then she gave him a smile. “I love these,” she said.
He flashed her a grin. “I’m glad.” Fire stirred in his belly as she held his gaze, images of that kiss coming to mind.
Jessie walked toward him slowly—the brightness from the window lighting her up like an angel—and slipped a silky hand along the back of his neck. “You’ve got something right there,” she whispered.
“Right where?” Trent dabbed his mouth with his napkin.
“No,” she said, reaching down toward this plate. Before he knew it, she’d dipped a finger in the whipped cream on his plate and smeared it on his nose. “It’s right there.”
He left the dab of cream in place and cut another bite off his crepe. “Oh, that? I put it there on purpose. I look good like this, right?”
When she didn’t answer right away, Trent glanced back at her. Head tilted, the expression on her face thoughtful. “Yes,” she finally said, “you do look good like that.” She reached out and wiped the cream off with the tip of her finger, and popped it in her mouth. “Mmm …”
Trent shook his head with a laugh, eyeing the old couple at the table for two in the corner. “Check that out,” he mumbled under his breath.
The woman extended a forkful of food to the man with a shaky hand. The man—who Trent assumed was her husband—opened his mouth wide. The two laughed as a smear of chocolate marked his lips. She reached over and dabbed it with a napkin, and the two chuckled some more.
“How long do you think they’ve been married?” Trent asked.
“Just over fifty years,” Jessie said. She lifted his drink, smeared a washcloth beneath it, and continued to clean up around the island where he sat. “They come here for each anniversary. He takes her out on the paddleboats. On long walks around the pond. Stargazing on the veranda. He’s quite the romantic.”
Trent smiled, liking the idea. “It’s nice to hear about couples being happy together.”
Jessie nodded, pulling out a barstool and sitting next to him. “Are your parents still together?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m happy to say they are.”
“That’s lucky.”
He knew. Had seen plenty of dysfunction over the years. Trent wanted to know more about her, but sensed this wasn’t the time. “When can I take you fishing, Jessie?” There went his stomach again—roaring up with heat at the mere idea of being alone with her once more.
“When would you like to take me?” she asked.
Dang, those eyes of hers. They never quit. The hazel wonders seemed to have mastered the art of flirting all their own. He wanted to ask her for tonight. Seize the moment. It seemed something had come over her—something that had her more open to the idea of dating than she’d been before. Which suggested it could be gone just as quickly. But how were they supposed to fry up their catch at the inn, with social hour and all the guests?
Jessie cleared her throat. “Was that a tough question?”
He laughed. “No, sorry. Just thinking. Would next Saturday work?”
A spark of something indiscernible altered her expression.
“That’s a week from today,” he added. “Or Sunday. Whichever’s best.” He wondered if his place would be finished by then. The last time he checked, the crew had picked up speed. He’d have to stop by and see how things were coming along.
“Saturday is good.” Jessie spun around, putting an end to their conversation, and walked toward the couple in the corner. Whatever she said made the couple chuckle aloud, but Trent missed it, the kitchen growing louder as a woman entered with a babbling baby at her hip.
He watched as the mother offered the babe—a little boy in a baseball shirt—a banana half still tucked in its peel. The little guy gnawed on it with a budding tooth as his mother dished up a plate one-handed. By the time she was strapping the baby into a wooden baby chair, a man walked in, pulling a baseball cap snugly over his own head. He looked tired, disheveled, too, like he could barely keep up with what Trent assumed was his wife and child. And what was this? A little girl shuffled in, a head full of red, bouncy locks. She looked up at her dad with wide eyes and tugged at his arm before pointing to the bowl of whipped cream.
The father’s face brightened as he nodded a reply, setting a plate in her small hands. Trent continued to watch as he added food to her liking. One crepe, folded into a wedge. A pile of blueberries—no, strawberries, as the girl had insisted while glaring at the bowl of red fruit. And a hefty serving of cream.
Trent shifted his gaze as something stung within him. A deep, untouchable spot. Not his chest or his back—but somewhere right in between. Was he making a mistake? Had choosing to live life alone been a foolish decision?
Trent pulled his eyes from the small family, wondering why he’d paid any attention. First the old couple, years of give and take, laughter and love, etched on their faces. And then the young, growing family.
It was all because of Jessie. She was the reason he was second-guessing everything. It was just that she’d made a similar choice, and yet she seemed open to giving things a try; that kiss said it all. Perhaps that was reason enough for him to do the same.
“Hey,” he hollered as she walked by.
She glanced over her shoulder, adjusting the straps of her apron. “Yeah?”
The ache ramped up before morphing into some sort of high. “I’m going to head out to my place after work, see how things are coming along. Would you like to come?”
She grinned. “If you can wait until after nine, I would.”
New love, even just the potential of it, was a drug of its own. “All right,” he said, fighting the nervous edge in his voice. “I’ll pick you up then.”
Jessie wandered around the kitchen, straightening centerpieces and wiping invisible crumbs. “Think he’s going to show?” she finally asked in a whisper.
“Yes,” Charlotte snapped. “Don’t get your knickers in a knot. You told him to come after nine. Now that it is, I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”
Jessie nodded, unsure of how she felt about this whole thing. She wasn’t used to feeling anxious or excited or dependent on another person for … whatever this was. Entertainment? She groaned inwardly.
“Hey,” Charlotte said, voice softening as she neared.
Jessie shot her a look. It was never a good sign when Charlotte got quiet
. “I know,” Jessie said. “JD wants you to retire and travel the world in your Winnebego.”
“Well,” she said, “yes, he does. But that’s not what I want to talk about right now.”
She wasn’t sure which conversation she dreaded worse: the one that said Char would be leaving soon, or the one that said Jessie needed to let go of her single-forever attitude. Luckily, a small rap at the French doors cut things short.
Jessie knew—before even turning to see him on the other side of the glass—that it was Trent. “Sorry,” she said to Charlotte. “Later, okay?” She quickly walked around the end of the table, tugged open one of the doors, and grinned as the warm kitchen light spilled over his smile. Had she noticed that dimple before?
“Hey.”
Her face flushed with heat. “Hi.”
“You ready to go?”
Jessie had assumed she’d be opening the door to let him in, but as he stepped aside and motioned with the wave of his arm for her to join him, she did just that.
“Bye, Charlotte,” she said over her shoulder.
Trent gave her a wave.
“Have fun, you two,” she hollered. “Kissing in the moonlight is the only way to do it right …” Jessie was hoping to cut her words off as she tugged the door closed, but the woman had some sort of speaker-type voltage in her lungs.
“Hmm,” Trent said. “Wonder if that’s true.” He held on to her hand as they rounded the porch.
Jessie knew just what he was talking about. Her whole body seemed to know, but still, she played coy. “If what’s true?”
He stopped walking, glanced up at the moon in the sky and then back to her. Now it felt like that high voltage was in her own lungs, speeding her breathing and pulse alike. He lowered his head, brushed his mouth against hers lightly, and then pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her lips.
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