“My life isn’t typical, and it can be a challenge to be my partner.”

  “Everyone can be a challenge.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  I nod. I do know what he means. Or at least I’ve had a taste of it with this whole hate-message shitshow. “I promise I’ll tell you if I’m struggling in any way with the attention.”

  “I have a team watching social media and addressing the threats. I don’t know how you’d feel about additional security measures, but if you’re okay with it, I’d like to have your system looked at to make sure Spark House is secure enough. And I think it would be wise to make sure visitors provide identification if they’re working on site.”

  “Is that really necessary?” I ask, taken aback.

  “I’d rather err on the side of caution when it comes to you and your safety,” he says gently.

  “I don’t know if additional security would be in our budget,” I reply honestly.

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ll cover everything since I’m the reason this is happening. And if there are any more negative messages or backlash, I need you to let me know so we can address it immediately.”

  “Okay. I can do that.”

  He lifts my hand and kisses my knuckles. “I was very worried today, London. I have to tell you, a three-hour flight has never seemed so long before. I wanted to be here the moment you called, and I hated that I couldn’t fix things right away, or that you felt unsafe. I didn’t like that you were kept waiting and wondering. I know how awful that can be.”

  “It wasn’t my favorite either, but we’re fine now.” I realize he needs the reassurance in much the same way I did.

  “Good. That’s good.” He takes my face between his hands and tips my chin up, covering my mouth with his. “I missed the way you taste.”

  We don’t make it to the bedroom before we’re naked and I’m wrapped around him, absorbing his apology through touches and moans.

  20

  INTO THIS LOVE I FALL

  LONDON

  Jackson has to head back to New York early the next morning, and my night off means I have more Etsy orders I need to catch up on. I’m definitely burning the candle at both ends. I immerse myself in work, preparing for our event this weekend. It’s a bachelorette party, so it’s intimate, with only thirty guests.

  That should mean less work instead of more, but the bride-to-be keeps changing her mind on linen colors, so I’ve had to change the tables three times. On Saturday morning I arrive at Spark House extra early so I can manage a few last-minute things and spray a bunch of picture frames for my Etsy orders.

  Harley finds me passed out on the table, streaks of gold and silver spray paint on my face. “You need to get more than three hours of sleep a night.” Her fists are on her hips, her lips mashed in a line.

  I scrub a hand over my face and blink several times. My eyeballs feel like rusty eggs. “I think we need to put our foot down and go with majority rules on hiring extra administrative help. This isn’t reasonable. We can’t even have outside interests or hobbies anymore without sacrificing sleep. It’s ridiculous.”

  “I know. You’re right. Maybe if we find someone first, it’ll force her to agree,” Harley says.

  “Maybe. I get that this is her baby, but she can’t run it without us. If I have a freaking nervous breakdown, she’s going to find out real fast how impossible this place is to run with no backup.”

  “We’ll be fine after this weekend,” Harley tries to convince herself, but we both hear how hollow her words are.

  “Really? Because my eyes are so bloodshot, it looks like I was hotboxing a bathroom and eye toked an entire blunt.”

  “They aren’t that bad.”

  I give her a look that calls out her blatant lie.

  “Fine. We’re spending tomorrow morning sleeping in, and then you’re letting me help you tackle whatever orders you have left.”

  “Okay.” I could use the sleep and I could also use the help.

  “And we’re getting you some eyedrops so you don’t look like you’ve been frolicking in a field of burning marijuana.”

  “That’s fair.”

  * * *

  I make it through the bachelorette party, but it’s a struggle. I’m very glad that Avery is the face of these events, although I’m getting a lot better at the whole peopling thing considering the number of events and dinners I’ve been to with Jackson over the past few months.

  As soon as Harley and I get home, she confiscates my phone, gives me a dose of melatonin, and sends me to bed. I pass out hard. So hard, it’s nearly eleven by the time I finally open my eyes.

  I pop out of bed, horrified that I’ve wasted those important hours on sleep. Despite all the hours I’ve spent unconscious, I’m still bleary-eyed. If I didn’t have a pile of orders to tackle, I could probably go back to bed and sleep for another six hours.

  I rub my eyes and amble down the hall toward the kitchen, yawning all the way. I need coffee, and then I need to get my ass in gear. Thankfully there’s already a fresh, mostly full pot on the counter. My mug is sitting beside it. I drop in a spoon of sugar and a dash of cream and fill it within half an inch of the rim. The first sip is always the best.

  I sigh, wishing I could go back to bed with my coffee and lie there for the next hour, answering emails, but I have orders that need my attention.

  I head to the living room, which is where I usually set up when I’m filling orders and come to an abrupt stop when I find my sisters in there. And my stuff is already set up.

  “What are you guys doing?” I ask and then yawn. I clearly overslept.

  “Harley invited me over for blueberry cream cheese French toast, but it was all a ruse to get me to help out.” Avery motions to the empty plate with blueberry smears on it and the mountain of puffy stars.

  “The brunch was incentive, not a ruse.” Harley gives Avery the side-eye before turning back to me. “We printed all your orders and the shipping labels. All the boxes are ready to go, and we set up an assembly line so we can help put things together. If you want us to.”

  “You didn’t have to do all of this.” I feel a little guilty that they’re picking up my slack.

  “We know we didn’t have to,” Harley says with a smile. “We wanted to. Well, I wanted to, and Avery wanted French toast casserole.”

  I glance around the living room, which is literally covered with my craft supplies. “You know, I sort of expected business at Spark House to pick up, but I didn’t realize my Etsy store would too with this Holt Media connection.”

  “It’s great all the way around.”

  “We’re booked all the way into late fall next year. Maybe now is a good time to look at hiring on someone to help with the administrative stuff,” Harley says absently.

  “We don’t need to do that. We’re handling it.” There’s a bite to Avery’s tone. “Maybe you should hire someone to help you with this stuff if you’re feeling too overwhelmed. Like a student or something.” Once again what I want or what I enjoy doesn’t matter.

  When we took over for Grandma Spark, she left Avery in charge, despite our unanimous decision rule, but there are times—like right now—when it feels a lot like she’s abusing that power. I don’t want to start a fight when she’s here to help, so I leave it for now. “Yeah, maybe.”

  “Did you know you have over two thousand reviews and a four-point-eight-star rating?” Harley interjects as she curls another flower petal with a pair of sheers and sets it with the others.

  “I do?” Last I saw, I had a thousand reviews, although I’m usually looking at my orders and everything else takes a back seat.

  “You totally do. You should have some French toast and drink your coffee before you start tackling this stuff,” Harley suggests.

  “Wanna cut me another piece too?” Avery calls out as I head back to the kitchen.

  I cut two pieces and return to the living room, dropping into one of the chairs that isn’t covered with my projects. “Can I have my phone back? I should probably check for new orders.”

  “I did that an hour ago, so you should be up-to-date. Also, Jackson messaged early this morning, so I messaged him back to let him know you were sleeping in and we were hoping you wouldn’t be up until closer to noon.”

  “You messaged him back as me?”

  “No, I messaged him on your phone, but told him it was me. Don’t worry, I didn’t read your text messages. Although, I did see the preview and from that one sentence it seems like that man is a smitten kitten.”

  “He’s a smooth operator, I’ll give him that.” I balance my plate on my lap and slide my fork through the crunchy, buttery, French toast concoction. I hum in contentment as the flavors hit my tongue.

  “Things are okay, though? You believe him when he says there’s nothing going on between him and Selene?” Harley asks.

  “I can’t imagine that he would still want me to come to the charity event if they actually were together. He gave me the option to skip it, but I have that piece going up for auction, and honestly, I think it would drive me batty if I didn’t go, knowing that Selene was going to be there.”

  “You don’t trust him?” Avery asks with a frown.

  “It’s not that.” I stab another bite of French toast with my fork. “I just don’t like that they have a history, and he would be at the event and she would be there, and I wouldn’t. I can see someone taking pictures and posting them on social media of the two of them together. And then there would be all this speculation, so I told him I’m going. Which I think is the right thing to do. I’m nervous, but I’ll deal with it.”

  “So basically, you’re jealous and you’re willing to deal with whatever media crap comes your way so you can stake your claim on him.”

  “I’m not jealous.”

  “Haven’t we already gone over this before?” Avery cocks a brow.

  “I just don’t understand how that woman could be happy sleeping with Jackson and it not being anything more than that!” And now I sound indignant. Maybe because I am. “I find it offensive that this woman has been with my boyfriend and never truly appreciated what she had. He’s the whole package and more! He’s kind, caring, attentive, understanding, and he’s the first man to give me multiple orgasms. Who willingly sleeps with other people when they already have someone so amazing? Someone who takes what they have for granted! That’s who.” I stab the table with my finger and leave behind a sticky fingerprint.

  “Tell us how you really feel.” Avery grins.

  “I want to make sure that woman knows he’s off-limits.”

  “So, like I said, you’re jealous.”

  I pause my ranting and frown.

  “There’s nothing wrong with being jealous, London. It doesn’t make you a bad person. It just means you have strong feelings for this guy. And it seems pretty mutual,” Avery assures me.

  “Is this how you felt about Declan and all of the women he brought home? I would have lost my damn mind. Or at the very least torched their shoes.”

  That makes Avery laugh. “I didn’t love Declan bringing home all of those women, but we were both lying to ourselves about how we felt. And neither of us were in a place mentally or emotionally to make it work, so it’s a lot different. But yeah, there were times I wanted to scratch a woman’s eyes out. But mostly I was glad that none of them stuck around long enough for Declan to get attached.”

  “I don’t get how you managed to stay just friends for so long. Every time I’m in the same room as Jackson, I want to tear his clothes off. The two months of being business associates was pretty much torture, and now that I know what he’s like in bed…” I sigh. “It’s like there’s this constant … ache for him?”

  Avery smiles and so does Harley, but she looks a little wistful.

  “Oh yeah, that’s normal. At least that’s how Declan and I are. It was so much more intense at the beginning when we started sleeping together, because, well … we were exploring this new side to our relationship, and we’d spent a lot of years forcing each other into the friend zone even though the feelings were there already. When we finally gave in to them, we were ravenous for each other. Like you can never really get enough.”

  “Yes! That’s it exactly! I can’t get enough of him. Every time we go out for dinner, I want to rush through the meal so we can get back to his place and into bed.” Just thinking about it makes my body warm. “When I’m not with him, I’m thinking about being with him, and I would gladly forgo sleep in order to get more time with him.”

  Avery nods knowingly. “It sounds like you’re falling for him.”

  And I realize, in this moment, that she’s right.

  That’s why my heart pounds when he calls or messages. Why my stomach flutters every time he calls me beautiful. Why I crave him so desperately.

  What’s even more startling is the knowledge that based on how intensely I feel for him, this is the very first time I’ve ever been truly, hopelessly in love with someone.

  It’s as elating as it is terrifying.

  21

  THE BITTER CRACKLE OF TRUTH

  LONDON

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t come get you, but I promise as soon as you land, I’m all yours for the next twenty-four hours.” Jackson’s voice holds both apology and excitement.

  “You don’t need to be sorry about not wasting an entire day on a plane so I don’t have to fly alone.” I think it’s sweet and slightly ludicrous that he would have even considered doing that in the first place.

  “Time spent with you is anything but a waste, London. I’ll meet you at the airport at noon, then I have big plans for you.”

  If I wasn’t in the back seat of a car on the way to the airport, I would most definitely ask if those plans entail being naked and horizontal, but since I’m not alone, I bite my tongue. “I can’t wait.”

  “Me either. I’ve missed you this week. I’m clearing my schedule in New York so I can spend a week in Colorado.”

  “I can’t wait for that either.”

  Jackson blows out a breath. “Okay. I need to go. I have meetings and I need to get a handle on myself. Have a safe flight. I’ll see you soon, London.”

  “See you soon.”

  * * *

  Four hours later, I’m in the back of another SUV with Jackson beside me. “We have a bit of a busy afternoon ahead. I’ve scheduled a little pampering for you when we get to my place.”

  “Oh? What kind of pampering?”

  “A massage, facial, hair, nails, makeup.”

  “Oh. How long will all of that take?”

  “Probably a few hours. Are you okay with that? I can cancel if you’re not interested.”

  He looks disappointed by the prospect, and it’s clear that he wanted to surprise me with something nice. Wanting to give him the satisfaction of doing something sweet is the only thing that outweighs my need for alone time with him.

  “How soon after we get to your place will the pampering start?”

  “The massage therapist is scheduled to arrive at one.”

  I check my phone for the time. It’s already noon, which means we won’t have much time alone, if any at all. “How long is the trip back to your place?”

  “At least thirty minutes with traffic.”

  “That’s enough time,” I murmur.

  “Enough time for what?” Jackson’s brow furrows.

  I hit the release button on my seat belt and straddle his lap. For a moment, he looks shocked, but I fuse my mouth to his and he responds quickly. His hands slide up the outside of my thighs, under my skirt, pushing it up.

  “Can the driver hear us?” I whisper-groan.

  One of his hands leaves my thigh and music filters through the speakers. He turns up the volume a few notches. “Not anymore.”

  “Excellent.” I unclasp his belt buckle and pop the button on his pants. “Do you have a condom handy?”

  “There’s one in my wallet.”

  “Perfect. I have a great way to keep ourselves entertained on the way back to your place.”

  His eyes darken with lust. “I see Frisky London has come out to play.”

  “Is she your favorite?” I slip my fingers under the elastic of his boxer shorts, skimming the head of his erection.

  His nostrils flare and his eyes flutter closed. He tips his chin up and exhales a low groan before he cracks a lid. “Every version of you is my favorite, but this one is particularly enticing.”

  “Hmm.” I wrap my palm around him and smooth my thumb over the crown. “You know, after that time you took me to the estate sale at Harmon’s, I fantasized often about what it would have been like to make out with you in your car.”

  “Did you now? Tell me more about that.” He unfastens the buttons on my blouse, one at a time, fingertips skimming the edge of my lace bra.

  “It was hard to focus on the conversation and I kept wondering how much of a pretzel I’d have to turn myself into to get into this exact position.”

  “We can absolutely find that out the next time I’m in Colorado.”

  I continue stroking, my rhythm faltering when he reaches the last button on my shirt and cups my breasts in his palms, thumbs brushing over my nipples, the sensation muted by the lace. “You are exquisite.” He drops his head, lips sweeping along my collarbone, teeth nipping at the swell of my breast before he covers the peak with his mouth and sucks gently.

  I thread the fingers of my free hand through his hair, holding him to my breast. “I’ve never had sex in a car before,” I admit.

  His gaze lifts, eyes hooded with desire. “That’s about to change.”

  He tugs my blouse free from my skirt and carefully removes it, hanging it from one of the hooks on the window.

  “You are beyond sexy,” he murmurs, fingers drifting along the edge of my bra, then dropping to my thighs and running up the outside of them, pushing my skirt higher until he exposes my matching panties. His hands shift course, and I suck in a gasp when his thumbs sweep along the seam of my panties.