Page 35 of Wishing for a Picture Perfect Love

“Absolute favorite. Give me some bread, some peanut buttah, and grape jelly and I am one happy camper.”

It’s seemed like a superficial reason to pledge undying love, but Jack was pretty sure he was going to marry this woman.

The conversation was every bit as engaging as any of their previous conversations, and they finished their meal just as the sky turned dark purple. Jack repacked the basket and set it to the side.

They laid back, shoulder to shoulder, watching the stars and pointing to different constellations.

“Thank you again,” she said, rolling to her side and propping herself on her elbow. “This was hands down the best day ever.”

He mirrored her and smiled. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“I did,” she whispered.

An immediate need to kiss her hit him with such force he didn’t even think. He cupped her cheek, brushed his thumb across her lips, and brought her lips to his.

A fireworks display fit for a king exploded behind his eyes. A kiss that was every bit as incredible as he thought it’d be. Her soft lips moved in a rhythm with his, almost like they’d practiced it a hundred times. More exciting than anything he’d ever experienced.

He pulled her closer and pushed her back against the blanket without ever breaking the kiss. Her fingers tangled in his hair, one of her legs wrapped around his, and it felt like her need equaled his.

A withering thought flashed in his mind. Jo was leaving as soon as her grandma’s house was fixed. She’d leave town, return to New York, and if he wasn’t careful, she would drag his heart with her.

Jack broke the kiss, breathing ragged. When his lungs were no longer demanding oxygen, he kissed her nose. “I think I need to get you home.”

“Yeah, I think so too.”

The hook in his mouth pulled a little harder. He didn’t want to stop kissing her, but his head was winning this argument. Until he was sure where she stood, he needed to keep himself in check.

CHAPTER 13

Jo

Three days later, Jo was still reeling from the kiss she’d shared with Jack. It’d been the perfect end to a perfect day. She’d suspected he was going to kiss her again, that it would be incredible, but what she experienced with him was life-changing. She could see herself falling in love with him so deep and wide that she’d be ruined.

Any chance she might have for future romance would be gone with no hope of ever finding anyone that would hold her heart like Jack.

To say the thought scared her was an understatement. Not only did she have a life in New York, but if he was feeling anything remotely like she was, there was a possibility she could hurt him, and she couldn’t do that.

She hadn’t even had a chance to talk to him about it. To share her concerns… for him, of course.

He’d texted her the next morning, letting her know that one of his dad’s real estate clients had a pipe burst, and they’d just put the house on the market. The young family was trying to avoid foreclosure and they desperately needed the damage from it fixed. Because of the circumstances, Jack didn’t feel like he could decline the job.

Jo agreed, and in the meantime, it’d given her all the time in the world for her brain to play tennis with her emotions. One minute, she was sure leaving Wishing Well, and Jack, behind was the right thing the do." Then, the next minute, guilt would hit, and she’d be reminded that she needed to stay and help her grandma. She ignored the little whispers about Jack—the way her heart ached at the thought of leaving him.

To keep herself busy, she’d decided to makeover the inside of the owner’s suite. The rooms needed a good deep cleaning and sprucing up with fresh paint. She’d started with the spare bedroom and would move to the bathroom once she was finished.

She’d run out of paint an hour ago, and she’d taken the opportunity to grab lunch while her grandma ran to the hardware store to buy more paint. Just as she took some sandwich meat out of the fridge, a knock came from the door.

Frozen midway, she wondered if it was Jack. No, he would have pushed open the door and said something.

Sitting the food down, she crossed the house and opened the front door, snarling. Craig. She went to slam the door in his face.

“Wait!”

“What, Craig?” she asked as she abruptly stopped.

He held up his hands. “I just want to talk.”

Her gaze drifted from his head to his toes. Typically, he was dressed in an expensive suit and nice shoes, but he’d chosen jeans and a polo shirt for his visit. She swept her hand up and then down. “If this is your way of getting me to let my guard down, it isn’t going to work. You’re never not working, even when you say you aren’t.”

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