Page 14 of Lessons in Lemonade

“Come here,” he all but demands, closing the last bit of distance between us then wrapping me in his arms. His smell intensifies as it floats around me, and I pick up scents of warm dryer sheets, a sporty-spicy body wash, and comfort . . . pure comfort. My eyes drift shut as I lean into him, returning the hug, and ask, “What? Are we friends now?”

“Best friends,” he deadpans.

“Ha, since when?” I ask, wishing I could stop time and just stay here longer than past the moment it becomes awkward.

He chuckles, and the vibrations under my cheek have me tightening my embrace just a little bit. “Since the moment you met me.”

“Is that so?” I’m now grinning along with him.

“Yep, I decided,” he states, pulling back.

“What about our current best friends?” I pop an eyebrow up.

“They won’t mind. You and me—it’s brilliant.”

How do I answer that? And do I even want to?

He remains silent for a moment, his eyes drifting over my face like he’s trying to memorize it, and then he asks, “How was the drive?”

“Easy, relaxing.” I reluctantly pull away from him and take a step back to create some space. “I’m usually up early in the mornings because of the restaurant, so this was nothing.”

“Well, that’s good.” His hand drags down my arm and lingers at my wrist before he finally breaks the contact between us.

“Will you help me bring some things in? My car is just out front.” I point my thumb over my shoulder.

“If you mean help you bring in all the food, that’s a definite yes.” He smiles, and I exhale at the sight of it.

Together we turn and walk back toward the tasting room, through the foyer, and out the front door. The cool air clears some of the Jack-induced fog in my brain, and I glance over at him. Even with my heels on, he’s so much taller than I am, and I realize I like it. I like it a lot.

“How was the flight?” I ask as we head toward my car. My feet wobble a little as my heels stick in the gravel, and he reaches for my elbow.

“Short. It didn’t take me hardly any time at all once I landed in Atlanta.”

His hand is warm, and I have the odd sensation of wanting him to reach for my hand and slip his fingers through mine. I don’t remember the last time I held a guy’s hand, but with him I think it would be nice.

“That’s good. I’m surprised Bryan didn’t come with you.”

He looks over at me and his eyes brighten as he smiles. “Not this time. He’s too busy driving to Lexi’s today.”

“What?” I stop and turn to stare at him. Lexi never mentioned him coming over for the holiday, so I don’t think she knows.

“Yep. Poor guy’s whipped and couldn’t stay away.” He says this as if it isn’t a world-changing revelation.

“I don’t think she knows,” I say, more to myself than him, but he shrugs anyway.

“Well, she’s about to.”

A breeze blows by and ruffles the top of his hair. The sides are kept short, but it gradually transitions to being longer on the top. It’s styled and looks perfect with his face.

“Huh.”

Moving again, I walk to the trunk and pop it open, and Jack groans next to me.

“Damn, how did you drive all the way here with these delicious smells swirling around the car? I would have pulled over, found a fork somewhere, and dived in.”

His eyes are scanning over the dishes and the box of uncooked food. After we closed yesterday afternoon, I decided to get a head start and went ahead and made a butternut bisque soup, mashed potatoes, and a few desserts.

“And that’s the difference between you and me—I have self-control.” I grin at him, and he groans again.