Carefully, I unwound them from the rearview mirror, clasped them tightly within my hand for a moment, then put them in the glove box and clicked it shut. A little less him…but it needed more me. I slipped my sea-glass pendant from my neck, then secured the chain carefully around the mirror. The glass swayed like a pendulum.

That was better. Now I was in here, too.

And so was Jackson.

I parked the truck in my driveway, gathered what supplies I could carry, and trudged up my steps.

“Oh, thank God,” Paisley drawled from the deck chair. “I took a cab from the airport, and when you weren’t here, I thought I was going to end up sleeping on your porch for the weekend!”

I dropped the bags and enveloped my best friend in a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

And I meant it.

…

“You want to explain that giant basket of bath bombs that arrived this morning?” Paisley asked as she sipped her tea.

I glanced toward the obnoxious gift basket that took up at least three feet of counter space. “Nope.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Jackson.”

“I said I didn’t want to explain.” I gave her a sweet smile.

“Uh-huh. And that giant teddy bear taking up the corner of your living room?” She motioned her head sideways.

“Not talking about that behemoth, either.”

“What about the three boxes of classroom supplies on your dining room table?” She arched a blond brow.

“Maybe I bought those myself.” I shrugged.

“Maybe, but you didn’t.” Her mug clicked on my granite as she set it down. “That man is in love with you.”

“Well, then that’s his fault, now isn’t it?” And speak of the devil, my phone buzzed.

Jackson: Taking a bath yet?

I snorted.

Morgan: I wouldn’t tell you if I was.

Jackson: That’s okay, I have a great imagination.

Morgan: You know in some states, they’d consider this stalking.

I tapped my fingers on the granite, waiting for his response and blatantly ignoring the way Paisley watched me with a that’s-what-I-thought grin on her face.

Jackson: The minute you feel harassed, call the station and tell Captain Patterson.

Jackson: I’ll get the message. Trust me.

I frowned. Was he being ridiculous and a little obsessive? Yes. Did I want him to get in trouble for it? Of course not.

Did I want him to stop? That was another question entirely.

Jackson: Until then, I’ll just be over here, picturing you in that new bathtub.

Morgan: You are incorrigible.

Jackson: I think you might be catching on.

Morgan: Go save someone.

Jackson: I love you, Kitty.