Page 47 of Forget Me Knot

“Justyouand me. Both versions of you.”

Jack closes his eyes again, like he’s in pain, and nods his head. I can’t help but reach up, brushing the stubborn lock of hair from his forehead. “You should get more rest. I can make up some eggs for you, or I brought Bacon Bites with me in case you’re in the mood for those when you wake up. Owen said…”

“What did Owen say?”

“Owen said he thought my Bacon Bites might make you… propose.” I grin wide and proud, though Jack’s eyes are closed. They are really stinkin’ good.

“There’s still time, Dinah Belle.” There it is again. Dinah Belle. The moniker Jackson uses, slipping off Jack’s tongue, and he doesn’t even seem to realize. “Come on, Polly. Sit with me.”

“I am sitting with you,Just Jack.”

He opens one eye and a familiar, flirty smirk ticks up one side of his face. “You’re sitting in a chair a world away.” He pats the empty place on the bed beside him. “You’ve been here for hours, and that old chair can’t be comfortable. Come sit, Polly. I won’t bite.”

I roll my eyes, but acquiesce, sinking on top of the fluffy comforter and crossing one leg over the other. Chipper pounces onto my lap before Jack scoops him up, laying him to rest on his bare chest and abs. Thank goodness he isn’t wearing his glasses right now. I’d spontaneously combust. The image of this man cradling a kitten against carved pecs and a light dusting of hair across his tan skin is going to be burned into my brain for all eternity. I’ll undoubtedly wax poetic about it to Emory over ice cream in the days, weeks, and years to come.

This moment. This man. This adorable, rambunctious kitten—who’s no fool—curling into Jack like he knows a good cuddle spot when he sees one. It’s all far better than any romance I’ve ever read. And it’s real.

“You have so many books.” The green of the lamp casts the floor to ceiling pipe-shelves covered in books, baseballs, and potted plants in a mysterious shadow. If I weren’t so comfy, snuggled up toLibrarian Ken, I’d go see every title on that shelf for myself.

“You droolin’ over my books, Dinah?”

“Maybe,” I say, shrugging and biting my lip. “Tell me what you’re reading right now.”

He pulls the cold mask over his eyes and takes a deep breath through his nose. “Romance, of course.”

“Liar.”

He’s been holding my hand since I sat down, but gives me a tug to lie closer to his side, curling me into his chest where Chipper greets me with a wide yawn and meow like he owns the place.

Yeah, yeah. You’ve got the best spot in the house, my dude. Move over.

Jack makes a contented sound as he nuzzles his face against my hair and shifts deeper into the bed. Wowza, this version of J. Jones is quite the snuggler, and I am not complaining one bit.

“I’m reading the Bible, a book on cultivating unique floral designs, and a medical journal on the success rate of psychotherapy for patients after a traumatic brain injury.”

“Wow. So, pretty sexy stuff.”

“What can I say? I like to keep things spicy.”

“Anything poignant in those non-fiction bangers?”

“You’re sounding pretty judgy, there, Dinah Belle.” He gives my hand a squeeze. “The Bible’s always a banger. Texture and the rule of three keep floral designs poppin’.” He takes another deep breath through his nose. “And from what I’ve read so far, most patients see cognitive and emotional improvements when psychotherapy is offered as rehabilitation after a brain injury.” He squeezes my hand, and without missing a beat asks, “What are you reading right now?”

“A contemporary marriage of convenience between best friends who won’t admit they’ve been in love with each other for their entire friendship but are obviously just achin’ to make out. It’s a banger, too.”

He chuckles softly. I feel it reverberate across my skin and down to my bones. “Have it with you?”

“Course I do. What kinda romance reader doesn’t have a book at their fingertips at all times?”

“Read to me while I drift?”

I’m not sure how long I managed to stay awake, reading through the delicious tension of two characters who obviously want to be together but won’t just take the leap and admit it to themselves. Jack laughed softly at the right times and grew quiet during the more romantic.

At some point, I got up to get him more meds and water, and we must have fallen asleep because I just woke up to a warm weight wrapped around my waist. I’m curled in on myself, surrounded by the scent ofJust Jack.He should probably bottle that aroma and sell it in the shop downstairs… And,whoa,I slept over at Jack’s house. In Jack’s bed. Beside Jack!

My heart takes flight, and I’m just positive that my rapidly increasing BPM is gonna wake up the man currently pretzeled around me. Just as I suspect, one of his thumbs takes a gentle, grazing tour over the stretch of skin where my shirt has risen just slightly above my jeans. He pauses and pulls my shirt down. For some unforsaken reason, my mama’s voice flutters through my mind reminding me tosave room for Jesusand thatmodest is hottest.

I snort against my better judgment, close my eyes and turn over, feeling the rush of heat fill my face. I so did not mean to sleep over. I anticipated taking care of Jack and sleeping on the couch, not a slumber party where we wake up next to one another and one of us acts like she belongs in the loony bin. Especially not when we have yet to define the relationship.

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