“Her penguin?”

  “Her soulmate. They were meant to be together. I’ve never been that upset by the ending of a relationship. Sure, I’ve been sad and looked to Ben & Jerry’s and margaritas for comfort, but it wasn’t the kind of heartbreak that took months to recover from. Take that guy I was going out with earlier this year—Daniel. The part I was dreading wasn’t being alone, it was hurting his feelings. I kept putting it off, thinking maybe something would change and that spark would suddenly happen, but it never did.”

  “Ah. I see. So, if you’d broken up with him sooner, you might have taken my phone number.” I can’t tell if he’s serious or poking fun at me.

  “And then you would have found out firsthand just what a relationship train wreck I am.”

  “Or maybe we would still be here, and going to this estate sale under different circumstances.”

  I laugh, but it’s high and a little reedy. “Do you want to know what my sisters call me when I’m not in a relationship?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Fun London.”

  “And what do they call you when you’re in a relationship?” He glances at me out of the corner of his eye.

  “Serious London.”

  “And what are the key differences between Fun and Serious London, apart from the obvious?”

  “I don’t know, but apparently when I’m in a relationship, I’m a real drag.”

  “Hmm.” His tongue peeks out and his lip curls up in a half smile. “Well, you’ve been pretty fun to be around as far as I’m concerned.”

  “That’s because I’m not in a relationship.” I cross my arms, feeling like I’ve just proven my point.

  “I suppose as long as you don’t go out with any random guys, you’ll remain Fun London.”

  “Works for me, since I have no intention of dating anyone.” I roll my head on my shoulders, trying to figure why everything feels suddenly tight.

  “I’m in the same boat, so this should work out well. Especially since I very much enjoy Fun London, and Serious London sounds like she wouldn’t be up for surprise estate sales.”

  “Now you’re making fun of me.”

  “Not at all. I just wonder if it’s not necessarily you who is the issue, but the guys you’re dating. It’s possible that this Fun London is authentically you, and that this serious version is a result of poor matches, but that’s a topic for another day.” He pulls down the Spark House driveway. “I have a business associate that I’d like to introduce you to next week if you have availability, say on Wednesday? It would be a dinner meeting, and they are very big on networking and conversation, so it would be preferable that you don’t have engagements first thing in the morning on Thursday. Do you think that would be something you could manage?”

  “Next weekend we have a birthday party on Saturday night, so midweek works perfectly for me.”

  “Excellent. I’ll have Mitchell set everything up and let you know what time on Wednesday.”

  “That’s great. Thank you again for a fun morning.”

  “Thank you for indulging me.” We exit the car, and Jackson retrieves my box of teacups and walks me to the door. “Please extend my apologies to your sisters for keeping you so long. I’d wish you good luck for tonight, but I don’t think you need it. I’ll see you next week, Fun London.”

  10

  SNEAKY SNEAKY

  LONDON

  “Are you sure you’re okay with me going to this dinner meeting and coming in a little on the later side tomorrow?” I ask for what must be the hundredth time. The question is directed at Avery. I already know Harley is more than fine with it.

  “We’re sure,” Harley replies.

  I stop leafing through the stack of papers on my desk and glance at my sisters, focusing on Avery.

  “I’m sorry I freaked out last weekend. It won’t happen again, and I’m one hundred percent sure that I’m okay with this whole thing.” Avery has the decency to look chagrined. “Including you not being here first thing tomorrow morning.”

  We had a bit of a blowout when I got back to Spark House after my morning with Jackson at the estate sale. Avery was angry that I’d gone at all, and I reminded her that she’s been taking off plenty of time for emergency wedding stuff. My meeting with Jackson was meant to help our event hotel and make things easier for us, not more of a challenge. I once again suggested that we need more help on the admin side of things, which, as expected, did not go over well.

  We had to put a pin in the argument because of the event that was starting, and I got the cold shoulder for the rest of the night. We haven’t come back to it since then, but we’ll have to eventually. Part of me hopes that while I’m at this dinner, something happens to make her see what Harley and I already know—we’re getting too big for just the three of us to manage.

  “I’ve left a list of the things that need to be tackled this afternoon, but you can message or call if you need anything or if anyone has questions.” I slide a folder to the edge of my desk with all the files on our weekend event.

  “We’ve got it handled,” Avery replies. She’s determined to prove we don’t need extra help.

  “Yup. We’re good to go here.” Harley gives me the thumbs-up while grinning at Avery.

  “What’s this about?” I motion to their faces. They’ve been acting strangely all morning. “Why are you being all weird about this?”

  Harley drops her arms to her sides. “We’re being supportive, not weird. You’ve pretty much taken care of everything, so Avery and I are going to look at bridesmaid dresses that aren’t in team colors.”

  Avery rolls her eyes. “Blue and maroon aren’t a bad combination.”

  “On a jersey,” Harley and I say at the same time.

  “The flowers could be in team colors,” I suggest. “And the centerpieces. I can mock something up for you tonight when I’m back from the meeting,” I offer.

  “You probably won’t have time for that tonight,” Avery says.

  She has a point. I’ll be at a dinner meeting this evening, and I’ll be missing this afternoon to prepare for the meeting and go over some paperwork, so there will be emails to tackle later. “Tomorrow night, then.” I slide the folder into my bag, along with my laptop and tablet, then I glance at the time. I should be leaving for Denver shortly.

  “How do I look?” I smooth my hands over my hips. I’m wearing a simple, classic black dress paired with rose-gold heels. I have one of my versatile and functional oversize purses, also in rose gold, which holds all the things I’ll need for this meeting.

  “Fantastic,” my sisters say in unison.

  My phone pings, and I pick it up off my desk and check the message. It’s Jackson, letting me know there’s been a slight change of plans and that he’ll be at Spark House momentarily.

  “Why in the world is he coming here?” I mutter.

  “What’s going on?” Harley asks.

  “I have no idea. Jackson is apparently coming to pick me up, which doesn’t make a lot of sense if the meeting is in Denver.” I sling my bag over my shoulder and blow out an anxious breath.

  “Maybe he wanted the time to brief you?” Avery suggests.

  “Maybe.” It still doesn’t quite add up. “I guess now I’ll have time to get information out of him about the company we’re meeting with.” Jackson has been vague about who exactly we’re having dinner with. He mentioned that they’re in the hospitality business and that it would be informal, more of a preliminary introduction, but that they’re interested in learning more about Spark House.

  Every time I asked for more information, he would tell me not to worry about it. That I’m a natural and I should just relax. Easier said than done.

  My sisters flank me down the hall. “What are you doing?”

  “Walking you out.” Harley slips her arm through mine.

  I narrow my eyes at her. “Why?”

  “Because we’re just as curious as you.” Harley smiles up at me and bats her lashes innocently.

  “You just want to check out Jackson.”

  “We absolutely do,” Avery agrees.

  “You get to spend most of the day with him. We should at least get a hit of the eye candy,” Harley agrees.

  It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “You two are ridiculous.”

  “Are we really, though? Declan will always be a ten in my book, but I feel like it should rain glitter every time Jackson enters a room.” Coming from Avery, that’s high praise. She hates glitter and thinks the sun rises and sets on Declan.

  We step out onto the front porch just as the driver’s side door of a very nice hybrid SUV opens and out steps Jackson’s driver. His nametag reads Clint, and he greets me as Ms. Spark and opens the rear passenger door. Jackson’s head appears, followed by the rest of him.

  “Good grief, he’s yummy,” Harley mutters.

  “It should be illegal to be that delicious,” Avery murmurs.

  “Okay! Time for me to go!” I say in a high-pitched squeaky voice more fitting to the mice in Cinderella. Which is sort of how I feel right now—not like the mouse, but more like Cinderella. Except I’m being swept off to a meeting in an environmentally friendly SUV, not a pumpkin-turned-horse-drawn carriage. And I’m not wearing a ball gown either.

  My sisters wave hello to Jackson, hug me again, and tell me to have fun and knock ’em dead. I cross the driveway and greet Jackson with a nervous smile and a stomach full of excited hummingbirds.

  “Sorry about the change of plans.” Jackson smiles and slips his finger under the strap of my purse, lifting it from my shoulder.

  “It’s fine. Is everything okay?”

  His gaze moves over my face, and I feel it like gentle fingers brushing over my skin. “Everything’s fine.” He passes my bag to Clint and offers me his hand.

  This time, I anticipate the jolt of energy that passes through my body when I slip my fingers into his palm. In fact, I breathe out an inaudible sigh at the contact. It’s like drinking liquid chocolate—a double dose of caffeine and sinful sweetness.

  “I’ll see you later!” I call out as I duck into the SUV.

  “Don’t rush back!” Avery says with a wide grin.

  “Take care of London for us!” Harley shouts.

  I shake my head and shimmy over to make room for Jackson. The SUV has double bench seats. Jackson slides in and takes the seat opposite me, so we’re facing each other.

  I buckle in and brace myself as Clint sets my purse on the seat beside me and closes the door, shutting me into the confined space with Jackson.

  “Does the change of plans happen to include another estate sale?” I smooth my hands over my thighs and cross my legs.

  “I’m afraid not, but I promise this should be just as much fun.”

  His smile makes my insides feel like a gooey toasted marshmallow. I really need to get a handle on this teen girl style crush I have going on.

  Clint turns the SUV around, and we head down the driveway, turning right onto the road leading toward Denver.

  I try my best not to fidget, or stare at Jackson, or inhale too deeply. His cologne is mouthwateringly delicious, his crisp dark suit tailored to fit him like a classy second skin, and his dark hair is parted at the side and styled perfectly. Not a hair out of place. Everything about him screams sophistication.

  What I like most about him, though, is that under that very polished exterior is a man who likes to genuinely have fun. Estate sales have always been something I enjoy, but with Jackson, it was that much more of an adventure. He’s an adventure. I’d forgotten what it was like to authentically enjoy spending time with someone who wasn’t one of my sisters. It feels effortless, natural. Which makes the fact that we’re stuck in the business associate friend zone that much crappier. Maybe it’s better that way, because my romantic relationships tend to fizzle like sparklers in the rain.

  We make idle chitchat, with me waiting for an opportunity to ask him to explain what the change in plans are and why he picked me up instead of me driving to Denver.

  “Oh, I don’t think you ever responded, but the flower arrangement made to look like a soccer ball seems to be perfect for Avery’s wedding,” he says.

  Jackson and I routinely message each other when we’re working in our Google Doc. I find it’s the one place where I don’t feel all awkward about our conversations, and we can have easy chats, and I can poke fun at him with comments about our lists. This morning, he sent me a picture of a bouquet that looks like a soccer ball.

  “I’m not carrying a soccer ball down the aisle.”

  “It’s not a soccer ball. It’s a bouquet that looks like a soccer ball, and Avery’s wedding isn’t about you, London. It’s about her and her love of sports.”

  “It’s also about Declan. Why in the world were you looking at flower arrangements this morning, anyway?”

  “I was looking at some of the centerpiece options from your Etsy site, and I went down a rabbit hole that included soccer ball flower arrangements.”

  His phone pings with an alert, and he apologizes while he checks the message.

  I pretend to look out the window when really, I’m staring at Jackson’s profile in the dark glass. At least until I realize that we’re no longer headed toward the city. We pass a sign indicating that we’re about five miles from a private airfield. “Where exactly is this meeting?”

  “Hmm?” Jackson slips his phone into his inside pocket and smiles distractedly.

  “I thought the meeting was in the city.”

  “It is.”

  “Then why are we heading toward an airfield and not Denver?”

  “Because we won’t make it to the meeting on time if we drive.” He clasps his hands in his lap and smiles innocently at me.

  I narrow my eyes. “What city is the meeting in?”

  “New York.” He busies himself with buttoning his suit jacket. It makes the muscles in his arms flex distractingly.

  “Is this the minor change in plans?”

  “No. I thought I told you about the location.”

  “Uh no, Jackson, you failed to mention this meeting was halfway across the country. If this isn’t the change in plans, what the heck is?”

  “Hmm. Are you sure I didn’t mention it? Maybe you weren’t paying attention? You have had a lot on your plate recently,” he muses.

  I’m somewhere between flabbergasted and offended. “I always pay attention. Always. I’m meticulous when it comes to details!”

  His smile widens and his eyes twinkle. I want to poke him in one, because he clearly enjoys seeing me flustered. “This is true most of the time. It must have slipped my mind. It’s a short flight, and we’ll be back early tomorrow morning.”

  “Early tomorrow morning?” I need to stop repeating everything he says to me. “All I have is my purse. I don’t have a change of clothes, or makeup, or a brush. Or anything.”

  “All of those things have already been taken care of.” He’s so matter of fact. I can’t decide if it’s alluring or infuriating or both.

  I cross my arms. “What do you mean they’ve been taken care of?” I ask, attempting to imitate his voice.

  “I cleared it with your sisters ahead of time. Harley packed you a bag with all of the things she thought you would need for an overnight.”

  “Wait a second, you pulled my sisters into this? They already know? And you had Harley pack me a bag? That means she had to go through my underwear drawer!”

  “Does she have a particularly strong aversion to your underwear drawer?” The way his gaze moves over me is both stimulating and frustrating.

  I don’t know why I felt the need to mention my underwear, but now that we’re on the topic, I can’t seem to stop. “She’s my sister. We live together. There are boundaries, and touching my underwear should be one of them. And my underwear drawer has other things in it.” Oh my God, London, shut up about your underwear drawer. I wave a hand around trying to erase my words. “That’s not the point. They know I hate surprises!”

  “To be fair, I was unaware of your extreme dislike of surprises.”

  Now I know why my sisters were acting so weird this morning, and why Harley was up so early and told me to go on ahead to Spark House without her and that Avery would pick her up. “What if all she packed were pajamas? What am I going to do then?” I can see her doing something like that. Packing lacy business, thinking she’s being funny.

  I can tell he’s fighting a smile. “Whatever you need, I can have picked up for you. I gave her a list of things I thought you might need. We can go over it right now if you like.” He plucks his phone from his pocket again. Apparently he’s serious about reviewing the list.

  “You made her a list? Were underwear even on it?” I need to stop coming back to that point.

  “I thought they were an unspoken essential,” he says while smirking. “And like I said, if you don’t have something you need, it can be picked up for you.”

  I pin him with what I hope is an unimpressed glare. “You do realize this isn’t how it works for the rest of the world, right? We don’t just make phone calls and things magically appear.”

  “Well, to be fair, London, there won’t be any real magic involved. I’ll have Aylin go to an actual store and pick these items up.”

  “Aylin?” What is this hot feeling creeping up my spine?

  “My personal shopper. Since our meeting is this evening, I suggested Harley pack you casual wear for the trip home. Is there a store that you’d prefer I send Aylin to?”

  “You don’t need to send her anywhere if Harley packed me a bag.”

  “Well, you seem concerned about her packing skills. I want to make sure you have what you need, so I don’t think it hurts to be extra prepared.”

  “I don’t see the point in sending Aylin shopping just to be extra prepared,” I grumble.

  “Would you like to check your bag to make sure you have what you need for the evening?”

  “Sure. Yes. I can do that.”