Marry Me, Jackson (Best Friends To Forever Book 1)

by Barbara Lohr

  Jackson had helped her out in that department too. When she’d dragged herself into the library one night, her eyes red from crying, he asked her what was wrong. She told her sad tale about finding Lyle Ransom making out with another girl in a corner of the main cafeteria. Jackson studied her as if he were wondering how much truth she could take. “From now on, don’t look at what a guy says, Emily. Look at what he does.”

  What a revelation. If a guy doesn’t return your messages, maybe he’s not that into you. Emily wished she’d known that sooner. In those days, she’d baked cookies for the man in her life. One date? She’d haul out the baking sheets in the dorm kitchen.

  Her stomach gave a sickening lurch. Eric. Maybe even after graduation, she’d never gotten past that point.

  Had Jackson ever had a steady girlfriend in college? Not that she recalled.

  Now his blue eyes darkened. “Come on, Emily. I’m as good as my word, right? When did I ever let you down?” The grin softened his words.

  “Never. B-but how do I know? Maybe you’ve changed.” Maybe now you’re taking up with gorgeous blondes like Victoria Pomeroy.

  “Not me. I never change. Sometimes I wish I could.” For a second it looked as if he wanted to say more, sitting next to her on the floor, his legs folded under him. But he got back to business. “We’re going to need some towels to sop up this mess.”

  “Coming right up.” Scrambling to her feet, she ran to the hall closet. By the time she returned with an armful of old towels, he’d made short work of the duct tape. The pinging in the metal bowl became a full orchestra, all striking a different note.

  Reaching for a knob in the back, he twisted. The dripping slowed.

  “I wondered what that was back there.” Emily had been afraid to touch anything. Her father had always told her, if you don’t know what a gadget does, don’t monkey with it. She hadn’t mentioned the leak to Daddy. No way was she admitting that she had a problem she couldn’t fix.

  “Well now, that there is your shut off valve, Miss Emily,” he said with an exaggerated southern drawl that got her smiling. For a second they laughed together. The tension relief quieted her mind. Then he got serious. “Why don’t most women know about this kind of thing?”

  “No one teaches us,” she said.

  But she stopped right there because no one had taught Jackson. His father had left the family when he was just a little boy. For Family Night in high school, only his mom would come, a pretty blonde who clearly adored her son.

  “So how did you learn all this stuff?” she asked softly.

  “Trial and error,” he said dryly. “Believe me, it wasn’t pretty. My mother is a very patient woman.”

  “She must adore you,” Emily murmured.

  His glance sharpened. “Sorry, what was that?”

  Somehow she found her big girl voice. “I’ll bet your mother really appreciates all the work you do for her.”

  His lips tightened while he twisted the wrench. “She deserves it and more. Can you get down here? I want to show you something.” He crooked a finger.

  “Sure.” She melted to the floor.

  Crouching next to him in the small space, she was glad she’d washed her hair last night. When Jackson turned, she caught a whiff of his toothpaste. Something minty.

  What was wrong with her? She better focus on the leak.

  “I’ll show you where the problem is.”

  “We have a problem?” she mumbled.

  “Yep. Let me explain it.”

  Of course he could fix it. Jackson could fix anything.

  The beam of the flashlight hit the metal hose that came from somewhere. “You see that? This hose leads from your dishwasher.”

  His fingers skimmed the metal ribs of the coil and her skin prickled.

  “It needs to be replaced.”

  Dazed, she sat there, all rational thought gone. “You’re here five minutes and you know what’s wrong?”

  Her relief was mixed with regret. One quick fix and he’d be out of here.

  “Yep.” Backing out of the cubbyhole, he got to his feet and helped her up. “Just follow the water to its source.”

  When he let go of her hand, she coiled her fingers into a ball to stop the tingling. “Okay, now I feel stupid.”

  “You’re not. Look, I don’t know anything about spinach, and you can’t know everything about all the stuff that can break in a house.”

  Hands on hips she studied him. Was his face slowly turning pink? Had he checked out her blog? “Have you been reading about spinach lately?” she asked casually.

  He studied her tile floor as if fascinated by the block pattern of black and white. “I looked up your Facebook page. Wanted to know what you’d been up to. I didn’t know all that about spinach. Maybe I should eat some.” The ruddy glow had spread to the tips of his ears.

  “Maybe you should.” Emily was enjoying this.

  “Okay then. Good. I’ll be right back.” He dashed out the door, stumbling on the top stairs.

  “You okay out there?” she called out.

  “Yes, ma’am. Just fine.”

  Her mind raced ahead. She had to work on her Facebook page.

  While he was gone, Sasha appeared. Glancing at the open kitchen cupboard with suspicion, she sat back and waited. The open door didn’t meet her approval. Neither did all the stuff scattered on the floor. “Don’t worry. He’s going to put everything back.”

  In no time at all, Jackson returned with a replacement hose. How amazing.

  “You carry these around, do you?”

  “If you go to my Facebook page, you’ll see that I pride myself on being ready.”

  This wasn’t the time to tell him that she’d already visited that page. “Sounds like a good plan.”

  With efficient movements, he removed the hose from its packaging. He ripped off that hard casing like it was plastic wrap. “My mother hated it when a guy would show up to fix something but didn’t have the right part. Ordering it always meant at least another week. She’d have to take off from work again.” The expression on Jackson’s face told her just what he thought of this. In her mind she imagined all the lucky women whose appliances he’d fixed.

  “Too much information?” His forehead wrinkled.

  “Not at all. I think it’s wonderful that you think of things like that.”

  Cocking his head to one side, he said, “Don’t you remember?”

  “Remember what?” Right now she was too dazed by his kindness.

  “Our project.”

  “Oh, right.” But I was on auto pilot back then.

  Picking up a wrench, Jackson got busy under the cabinet. “While we were pulling it together, we surveyed the market to see what was needed. Point of differentiation. If no one has filled that need, well, you step in. Bingo.”

  “All right then.” Sometimes she wondered where her head had been back in school.

  “Can you hold the flashlight for me?” He held it out.

  “Of course.” Flashlight in hand, she crowded into the small space.

  They were so close in the dim light. She could feel the heat rolling off his body. What kind of soap did he use? Emily wanted to slather herself with that fresh scent.

  How ridiculous. This was probably as close as she was ever going to get to Jackson Hart. The thought made her kind of sad. She jerked her head back abruptly and hit the casing of the cupboard. “Darn it all.”

  “What is it?” Jerking his head out, he bumped into her.

  She sank back on her heels. “Nothing. I hit my head.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Sure.” She rubbed the back of her head below the ponytail.

  “Let me see.” Oh, so gently, he tipped her head toward him. “I don’t see any blood.”

  “Good.” Since she didn’t have any health insurance, a trip to an urgent care was the last thing she needed. His fingers parting her hair sent shivers down her spine.

  “Anyone ever tell you that you hav
e a ton of hair?”

  “I think it’s been mentioned.” Her head was pleading for more time with his fingers.

  “You’ll be fine.” His hands dropped.

  When she turned, sweet Sasha was sitting there, taking it all in.

  Looking over, Jackson said, “What’s your cat’s name?”

  “Sasha. Somehow the name suited her. She’s a Himalayan lynx. See those brown ridges over her forehead?”

  Sitting on his haunches, he held out a hand. “Aw, look at that. Here, kitty, kitty.”

  “She’s really shy.”

  But instead of skittering away from his outstretched hand, Sasha crept closer. She sniffed his fingers. Jackson’s nails were cut straight across. His hands were clean and tidy.

  “What a pretty little girl.” Jackson threaded his fingers into her thick coat. To Emily’s surprise, Sasha didn’t seem to mind. What a trollop.

  “I can’t believe this. She’s usually so shy.” Watching those hands, Emily was struck by a surprising bolt of jealousy.

  This wasn’t like her.

  Sasha’s contented purring filled the room.

  “Man, she’s really soft,” Jackson said. “My cat has short fur, kind of scratchy.”

  “You have a cat?”

  “Don’t act so surprised. I’ve had Midnight for about five years now. Found him in an alley near my office. He wouldn’t leave the pickup so I took him home to the boys.”

  “Thought you said you didn’t have children?” Had she missed something?

  “No, two dogs. Maximillian and Spartacus. Most of the time they all get along. My mother always had a cat. They’re easier than dogs.”

  She nodded in agreement. “No getting up at six thirty to take them for a walk. Cats just want to curl up on your lap.”

  By that time Sasha apparently had enough. Tail held high, she turned and swept from the room with her regal walk. They watched her go. “Either she has an appointment with her litter box,” Emily said. “Or it’s time for a nap.”

  “Sasha has an attitude.” A half smile danced across his lips. “She’s a lot like you, Emily.”

  She didn’t know if she liked that. “What do you mean?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Sweet but with an attitude. Sometimes.”

  Right. And he was with Victoria, who, from what Josie and Bryn had said, was the queen of mean.

  Jackson snapped his toolbox shut. “I don’t think you’ll have any more problems. If you do, let me know.”

  He was about to leave.

  “Want some coffee?”

  Without looking at his watch, he said, “Sure. Where can I wash up?”

  “Restroom down the hall and to the right.” Her stomach knotted as she spoke. Had she cleaned the sink? In his spotless, gray henley shirt and clean jeans, he might be horrified to find hair in the sink. But he’d never mention it.

  By the time he returned, she’d smoothed her hair, reapplied her lipstick and turned on the coffee machine. She opened the drawer where she kept her individual cups. “Take your pick.”

  “I drink regular old coffee.” Smiling, he read off her flavors. “Coconut almond mocha. That sounds like something my mother would like. Raspberry chocolate espresso. There’s a chocolate theme here that doesn’t surprise me.”

  He turned and a light burned in his eyes. Or maybe she imagined it. “Remember when you made chocolate chip cookies for me?”

  “I did?” She thought back. “The cookies were a thank you after our economics project.”

  “Right. So you said.” The man’s face was unreadable.

  “Did you eat them or give them to your friends?”

  “Oh, no. Never shared those cookies.” His smile came slowly. “I ate every last one.”

  She searched for some meaning. Jackson went back to studying the cups.

  “Black.” He handed her a cup of Folgers. “I take it black.”

  “Right. Okay.” She could hardly get the words out.

  Breathe, Emily. This is just a cup of coffee.

  Ten minutes later they were sitting at her kitchen table that overlooked the alley and small parking lot below. Cardinals were having fun with the bird feeder she’d fastened to a tiny balcony with duct tape.

  “This must make Sasha nuts.” He motioned with his mug toward the feeder. But he didn’t mention the tape.

  “It does. Her tail moves like a windshield wiper while she watches.”

  “Do you like this place?” he asked. “Great location.”

  “I know. I was lucky. Mrs. Miniver lived up here but she spent most of her time down in the shop. I found a lot of candles tucked away in these kitchen cupboards.” She laughed. “How about you? Do you live near your mother?”

  “No, I live on the outskirts,” he said. “Wanted my space. I have a lot of clients in the smaller towns so I’m always out and about.”

  “Sounds nice.” But isolation wasn’t what Emily was looking for. Right now she needed to be near old friends.

  Friends like Josie and Bryn. And maybe Jackson.

  “Moving home was a temporary plan,” she said. At least she told herself that. Now she wondered. After her split from Eric, she’d been broken in a lot of places. Coming home to familiar places and faces felt as comforting as bingeing on a basket of fresh hush puppies.

  “Do you think you might stay?” Jackson appeared to be waiting.

  Would it matter? “Too early to tell. I work online so I could live anywhere.”

  But Jackson’s attention had gone elsewhere. “Quiet,” he said in a hushed voice, leaning forward.

  “What is it?” She glanced around.

  “Has your refrigerator always made that noise?”

  “What noise?”

  A light chugga chugga sounded. Actually, she found that sound comforting. Didn’t it mean the refrigerator was humming along? Now the look on Jackson’s face made her feel nauseated. No way did she want to replace an appliance.

  Setting his mug down, he drew closer to the harvest gold refrigerator. “I should really check that out.” He glanced at his watch. “But not now. I have a one o’clock and I don’t like to be late.”

  “That’s you. Dependable.”

  His head jerked. “Is that a bad thing?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I’ll be in touch.” Pulling on his boots and jacket, Jackson grabbed his toolbox and was off. From the kitchen window, she watched him back out in a shiny black pickup. She wanted to kiss that refrigerator.

  She’d be seeing Jackson again, and he hadn’t mentioned Victoria once.

  ***

  Jackson didn’t have an appointment. Peeling out of that alley, he knew he had to get away for now. His past had caught up with him, just when he thought he’d forgotten all that. The signals his body was sending him made him darned uncomfortable.

  She’d changed. Emily was different. In the past she’d always had a plan. This was a girl who could work out a marketing strategy that took their project to a new level.

  Hearing that she couldn’t find a job after graduation was a shocker. Maybe he’d been too busy, too worried sick about his mom. Where had he lost track? And when she’d left for the city, well, he thought that was it. He’d expected her to be living in some mansion by now with two perfect children already enrolled in private schools.

  Now things were different. Who was this woman? Emily had seemed unsure of herself in Buster’s. Although her website looked like the Emily he knew, polished and perfect, something was off. This wasn’t the same girl who’d tripped along behind him on Halloween, so confident in her Princess Leia bed sheet.

  After what he’d been through with Elise, he had enough of his own baggage. No way did he want to take on a steamer trunk full of trouble.

  But this was Emily. That nervous look in her eyes reached something so deep, it shook him. She’d tapped into feelings he didn’t know he still had.

  Chapter 4

  “I owe you a Sea Turtle Sundae,” Emily told Josie t
he next time they walked. Both of her friends hooted.

  “You’re going to wake up the whole town,” she warned them. But it felt good to have them so excited for her.

  “I’m not going to say I told you so.” Josie gave her a smug smile.

  “Don’t get any crazy ideas.” She couldn’t even look Josie in the eye. “This is strictly business, if you can call a leaky sink business.”

  “Leaky sinks are business for Jackson, right?” Bryn picked up her stride.

  “And he thinks something is wrong with my refrigerator.”

  “Better yet!” Bryn giggled and Josie elbowed her in the ribs.

  “He might be back.” A shiver ran through Emily, probably from the cool morning air.

  “Come on. Quick step.” Josie took off ahead of them.

  As Emily hurried to keep up, something inside didn’t feel right. She didn’t want Josie and Bryn to get the wrong idea. After all, Jackson was seeing someone. This felt like trespassing. And their time together hadn’t been at all romantic, more like a service call. He was just helping her out.

  In that tight area under her sink. Where the smell of his soap just about made her woozy.

  Snap out of it, Emily.

  About eight years had passed. They’d both changed. And she hadn’t decided whether that was a good or a bad thing.

  Tossing sly comments back and forth, they headed for the marina. The sun sparkled on the water, with not a cloud in the sky. Early risers strolled along the bulwarks on the brick walkway built in the 1800s.

  “Don’t you love these swings?” Breaking stride, Josie threw herself onto one of the broad wooden swings that lined the walkway. Emily and Bryn piled on next to her. Two swings over, a couple sat, enjoying coffee and the activity around the dock.

  “This was the best investment Sweetwater Creek ever made,” Josie said, a contented smile on her face as she rocked back and forth, one foot on the ground. Bryn and Emily sat back.

  Drinking in the damp air, Emily smiled. This was why she’d come home. The smell of the sea brought back all the wonderful times she’d enjoyed down here. When she was growing up in Sweetwater Creek, she’d taken all this for granted. Not anymore.