Jackson was going to be kind of like a partner in her craft business, and she could not mess that up. She would not fantasize about seeing him without that shirt on at the falls. She couldn’t start something up with him. That was as far as she got with her vows, because she did visualize him without a shirt on—his broad chest muscles under her hands, the soft black hair that had to be on his chest tickling her fingertips.

“Nessa!” April’s tone brought her back to the present.

“What?” She came near to jumping out of her skin. The adrenaline from the shock of April’s voice sent her heart to pumping double time.

“You were staring off into space like you were high,” April said. “Flynn asked you to pass the butter.”

“I’m not high.” Nessa’s face suddenly felt hot. “I was trying to remember exactly what time the apple pie comes out of the oven.” Yes, it was a lie, but she had forgotten to set the timer.

“In ten minutes,” Flynn replied. “Apple pie is one of my favorites, so I won’t let you burn it.”

“Thanks.” Nessa sent the butter dish around the table to Flynn. “So, Jackson, what have you been working on this week?”

“Three more hope chests,” he answered between bites. “I could use some part-time help, but . . .” He shrugged and went back to eating.

“What’s the problem?” Nessa asked.

“I bet getting people to come out here to the sticks for just part-time work would be tough, right?” Flynn asked.

“Yep.” Jackson nodded.

“I’ll take the job,” Flynn said. “I don’t know a lot about building anything, but I can fetch, and I can learn. I’ve been wondering what I’m going to do now that the house is painted and rewired. I can be over there right after dinner tomorrow and work until five or six, whatever time you quit.”

“Are you serious?” Jackson asked.