He set his beer on the coffee table and sat down on the other end of the sofa. “I see you’re looking at Miz Lucy’s hope chest. From what Flynn says, I may have to give it a home forever.”

“You just might.” Nessa turned her beer up and took a sip. Then she put the bottle on the coffee table and removed the towel from her hair.

“Just toss it on the table,” Jackson said. “You don’t ever plan to get married?”

“Nanny Lucy used to say to never say never.” She felt the corner of her mouth quirk up—what would she think of all their nevers now?

“Then there’s a possibility, but maybe not a probability?” He turned and locked eyes with her.

“I guess it all depends on what my heart tells me. I depend on it to steer me in the right direction in matters of love,” she answered.

“Fair enough,” Jackson said. “Think you’ll wind up with the hope chest?”

“I wouldn’t even begin to try to answer that.” She crossed her legs at the ankles and noticed all the red marks. “I didn’t ever have chicken pox. Do you really think this is how they look?”

“I didn’t have them, either,” he answered, “but my best friend in elementary school had them, and he sent me a picture of his legs and chest, so yep, that’s kind of the way they looked.”

“Then thank God for vaccines.” She picked up her beer and clinked it with his. “Now it’s my turn. Do you plan to marry, or are you going to follow in your uncle D. J.’s footsteps?”

He chuckled. “It all depends on how my heart advises me.”

“I guess I had that coming,” she said. “We probably should talk about whatever this is between us and decide if things will be horribly weird if . . .” She paused.

Jackson shook his head slowly. “Let’s live in the moment for a few weeks and promise not to let things get awkward if we decide that we don’t like each other.”

“I’ve done passed that point. You’re my knight in shining tennis shoes. You saved me from fire ants,” she said.

“If I’d been a true knight, I would have saved you before you got bit.” He glanced down at her legs.

“I’m not arguing at all, but you did save me from being scarred forever, so it could have been worse,” she told him. “What about you, Jackson? If you were in the running to keep that hope chest, would you get married just to get it?”

“Probably not, but”—he gave her a slow, sexy wink—“since it is one of the first ones that Uncle D. J. ever made, I might think about it.”