Page 21 of A Whisper of Summer Magic

So, Jackson should stop looking for a recipe to make right now.

“He’d been in love with her since high school,” Jackson said, distinctly as if he had no doubt.

“They were always arguing,” Meghan remembered.

“Exactly,” Jackson looked up at her, blue eyes burning. “Live dangerously.” Jackson laughed and stood up. “Up for a little dinner date, risk taker?”

“No one who knows me would ever assign that epithet to me.”

“Live a little.” Still holding the book, he stalked out of the room.

Meghan lasted all of one minute on the couch. She didn’t want to be alone with her own company. And Jackson effortlessly made every encounter interesting.

Grabbing her crutches, she hobbled into the kitchen.

“Maybe Storm was in love before, or maybe it only works with the first person to taste-test,” she posited. “Not all the recipes have a weird instruction, do they? I’ve only looked at the jams and jellies and sauces, and most of those are pretty straightforward,” she admitted.

He turned around from the stove where he’d been adding olive to a pot.

“Yeah, like the one for elderberry wine.” He grinned. “Blow a kiss in the direction of your true love’s birthplace. Super straightforward.”

Meghan stifled a laugh. “Okay, maybe I haven’t read everything closely. I’m more the corner office than the apron and stove type,” she admitted. “But still, I want to help. I’m tired of feeling useless.”

“So, now you’re feeling brave?”

Damn, no dang, how did he look so hot just teasing her? It was unfair.

He reached out and brushed his knuckle under her chin. “Let’s make something or somethings, but we won’t do any of the weird directions that might have the whisper of magic.”

“I like that, a whisper of magic,” she repeated, charmed. “We’ll each choose a recipe—something we want to eat for dinner, but keep it straightforward, and that will be our control group,” she stated, wanting to sound in control of something to salvage this disaster of a weekend.

“Look who’s into science now. Makes me want to get out my high school beaker and Bunsen burner.”

“I am not responsible for any ensuing results,” she excused herself. “This cooking withSouthern Love Spellswas your idea.”

“Should I sign a waiver, counselor?”

“And an NDA.”

“Now we’re having fun.”

*

The weird thing—beyondthe book—was that Meghan did have fun cooking with Jackson. They had an easy synergy and while he made accommodations for her injury, he didn’t treat her like an invalid. And he knew his way around the kitchen.

“I don’t think I’ve laughed this much in a long time,” she commented as they plated their corned beef hash, salad, and corn relish. Later, they would indulge in homemade vanilla ice cream and boysenberry syrup they’d made from some frozen boysenberries she’d found in the garage freezer.

“Me too,” Jackson said, pulling out a chair for her.

Meghan stared at the chair and his expectant look. She couldn’t remember a time any man had done that except perhaps at prom and a debutante ball her mom had insisted she participate in between high school and college.

“Thanks,” she said, limping over.

He took her crutches, and she sat. Jackson propped the crutches against the pantry door and brought the plated food to the table. She poured out the herbal unsweetened sun tea she’d made yesterday that had been in the fridge.

“So, ready? Want a drum roll?”

“Definitely not.”

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