Page 32 of A Touch of Spring Magic

“I wanted the farm, the land to have someone love it again.”

Her eyes welled, and she pressed the knuckles of her index fingers against them lightly—one more advantage of not wearing makeup—no more worries about smears.

“I’ll think about the pickles and other items to sell—not just plants.”

She was more intrigued by the idea than she’d imagined but needed time to sort out how it would work. There was only one of her.

“I am going to serve my own branded tea blend, and sell loose leaf tea, along with tea plants. That’s first. Eventually I was hoping to make a couple of botanical blends that people could buy for cock or mocktails.”

Storm coughed and bent over, definitely trying to cover a laugh or a smile, and Jessica felt a bit more on even ground.

“Are you okay?”

“Peachy.” He took a deep drag on his sweet tea, and she watched his throat work and squirmed a little in her seat.

What was wrong with her? A man drinking tea at her table was not sexy. She tried to think back to her last date and came up empty. She’d been busy. Full of plans. And now Storm sat on the edge of his chair, leaning forward, poised like a hunting dog for the command to go retrieve the dead pheasant. She finally took a bite of her sandwich and chewed thoughtfully.

“Tell me more,” Storm encouraged. “We can make these working lunches.” He pulled out his computer and also a large drafting tablet. “I will better understand your now goals as well as future, and future-future, almost fantasy goals.” He popped the last piece of sandwich in his mouth and pulled out his tablet.

Jessica knew he was not flirting with her, but her mind got caught up in the word ‘fantasy.’ She was really going to need a leash for her libido. What was wrong with her? So many eligible men in Charlotte, but she’d been bored, bored, bored. Every man had seemed so caught up in selling themselves—what made them great, successful, interesting, a high-on-the-shelf reach for her. None had expressed much interest in her, and now Storm wanted to take notes.

It was heady and intimidating. She’d been in the dreamy stage of her business plan, but she was going to have to rocket her timeline.

“Do you want to start drafting out the areas for the party first?”

Jessica flinched. She knew she had to trust someone with the dreams she’d held so tightly in her fists for so many years, but protecting them from scorn and outright ‘never going to work,’ attitudes was a hard habit to break.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said. “And doing my own sketches—probably different from yours because I didn’t study this in college.”

“Jay, there’s not one way to process things. It’s called brainstorming, spitballing, processing, dreaming for a reason. Everyone does it differently.” He leaned into her space, his expression sincere. “This is your business. Your vision. I want to help. I want to be a part of it. I’ll have ideas, doesn’t mean they’re right, and by working together, collaborating, we can springboard somewhere that perhaps we never would have gotten to alone.”

It was hard to breathe, harder to believe.

She blew out a breath and edged her two untouched quarters of the sandwich onto his plate.

“I like order,” she admitted. “I don’t process quickly like you do. I mull.”

“News to no one,” Storm said, but his gold-brown eyes glinted with humor, not derision, and again she saw those two dimples. How had she forgotten about those? He’d always been playful until…

Don’t think about that. Don’t remember how hard you shut him down.

“Do you have a naggy voice in your head always critiquing your ideas?”

How the heck had she let that escape?

“Pretend I didn’t say that,” Jessica urged.

“It’s out there. Mrs. Bischell.”

“Huh?”

“English. Seventh grade. I just couldn’t get subjunctive clauses and pretty much everything else. I’d been skating by with reading and writing and middle school just…” Storm kicked out his legs, his stocking feet coming dangerously close to hers “…couldn’t keep up,” he admitted and placed the first quarter of her half of the sandwich she’d handed over after holding it up, eyebrows raised in an ‘are you sure’ look that shouldn’t be so politely charming.

“She really beat up my confidence. Detention. Failing grades. Conferences. Long letters home. I knew I was causing my grandparents more heartache. Lost a lot of lunches having to go to the office and work instead of eat. Extra work. Tutoring. Summer program. Nearly lost my place on every team when sports was my whole world.

“It was the first time something was hard. That I had to dig deep but still kept coming up empty.” He spread his hands out. “Shook me. I blamed her. I could hear her quiet disappointment in my head at the worst times. Took a student teacher in eighth grade who tried working with me before school using a new program she was studying and piloting. Leila Fulton. She had the sweetest smile and never once said anything nasty or missed one of our before school appointments, and she wasn’t even getting paid to help me. She said she wanted to help me find my learning style, and that by helping me, I’d be helping her so it was a win-win.”

He was quiet for a moment. And Jessica felt as if he’d cast a spell on her. His learning challenges might have been related to his parents’ death. His life had been totally upheaved, and Jessica wasn’t sure how she felt that Storm had shared something so personal.

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