Page 65 of A Touch of Spring Magic

Jessica sighed but stood up. All in all, this had gone better than she’d anticipated. Storm was right. Better to face your dragons or demons and turn them into allies. She wasn’t there…yet, but she would be.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Daddy. I am. But the four of us are closer than ever and if we have problems, we’ll solve them together.”

She hugged her father and was gratified that after he stiffened in surprise, he patted her shoulder, muttered something she couldn’t quite understand and then he hugged her back.

“Job’s there if you change your mind,” he said, not meeting her gaze.

She wouldn’t, but she didn’t want to break all the rules in one go. “I’ll keep it in mind. Should we have lunch?”

*

“You need helpwith anything tonight?” Storm asked.

“You offering to be my sous chef?” Jessica leaned against the rusted industrial grid fencing that already had roses, honeysuckle and jasmine starting to climb up the grid pattern. She’d added planters hanging off the top to add color and texture to soften the line, but what she really needed was time. The jasmine was a hold-out from before and would soon be battling for control, but for now, she wanted the greenery. She’d worry about pruning after the party.

It was early May, and she had been working full time on redeveloping the garden ‘far beyond its former glory,’ according to Grandma Millie, for more than two months. And even though she’d been working every day, the changes still gave her goose bumps, chills and all the ‘feels,’ as Chloe would sing out, clap her hands and jump around every time she came over after a full day of teaching to help out.

Her sisters had also put in hours, and Jessica was used to Rustin coming over on his days off to help Storm and his crew build the ambitious new river-style water feature that added cohesion to the garden design. It was a gift that she could see him now and talk to him and feel nothing but happiness for Chloe. No more regrets. No more awkward.

“I probably wouldn’t be half bad,” Storm drawled. “I’ve watched you in kitchen since late February, and I’ve been using the recipes you gave me for my grandparents, so I’ve been eatin’ good.” He stretched and patted his still-taut tummy, and she wondered if the rush of hormones and longing would ever stop. Seriously if she touched him once for every ten times she stopped herself from reaching out, they’d be in a permanent lip-lock.

“You make yourself sound like a feral animal.” She hip-checked him.

He pretended to stagger. “Seriously, I know you’ve got a night of cooking some mysterious concoction for Chloe and Rustin’s shower tomorrow.”

“Several mysterious concoctions,” Jessica admitted, “since the engagement party has morphed into a shower celebrating the couple. The guest list has expanded and is a bit more party now that we have a couple of food trucks setting up as well as a cocktail hut in the gazebo that will even teach a few vintage craft cocktail demonstrations, in keeping with Chloe and Rustin’s theme of ‘Belmont Community Roots.’”

“So you don’t need help?”

She didn’t need it, but she wanted it. She was hyperaware that her time of seeing Storm daily was winding down. She’d come to rely on his knowledge and skills, but also his calm and ever-present sense of fun. He balanced her intensity and tendency to hyper-focus and spitball all the things that could go wrong, without making her feel dismissed. But one line in one of the recipes she was prepping and baking tonight had her convinced she needed to be alone.

She was still hyperaware that he had shut her interest down a couple of months ago because he felt she was just playing. She wasn’t sure how he felt about her now as the dang man exuded good cheer and contentment while she was seething with sexual frustration. But she wasn’t willing to risk casting a spell. Who knew how the book worked—if it did.

Mix the filling ingredients into the torte pastry, watched by an unbiased eye.

She wasn’t sure what that meant if anything—if one of her sisters was around, would the savory mini tarts not taste good because none of them were unbiased? Or if she found an unbiased eye—definitely not Storm’s—would someone fall crazy in love with her at the party?

It could be anyone, and that had unmitigated-disaster potential slathered all over it.

“No, I’m good.” She smiled brightly.

“I’ll be here early for touch-ups in the garden—there’s a few areas in the maze that need to be filled in. Want to walk it with me—and you can boss?”

She laughed. “I do love a good boss-up opportunity.”

“Your strong suit?”

“Too much?” she asked, suddenly curious. She’d always been head of every committee starting in middle school through college. Joining her accounting firm at her father’s strong recommendation had felt daily like she was being slapped down for too many ideas and enthusiasms and told to wait her turn, listen and be a team player while sidelined.

She hadn’t realized how she’d let her corporate career impact her personal self-esteem, even as her professional confidence blossomed until she’d been cut loose.

“This is your business, Jay. You’re building your future. You damn better stay in the arena.”

She felt like a light bulb went off in her body. He got her. She got herself. She didn’t have to explain.

She reached out and touched his hand. She wanted to say so much, but she needed to keep her head and heart on straight so Chloe and Rustin could have the engagement party/bridal shower of their dreams. She didn’t want to start her own drama that would impact putting on the perfect party.

“Thank you, Storm. Thank you for these past few months—your work, your ideas, your help, your steady presence…” She was getting teary. “Thank you.”

---