Page 37 of A Whisper of Summer Magic

“First was this kiss. I’ve wanted to kiss you since I settled your grumpy and edgy injured ass on your sister’s couch after the ER.”

She pulled away from him, not believing. “And the second?” she challenged.

“Well, there’s three things.”

“Really? That’s a bit greedy.”

“I’m a total grasper. I always push and want more. You should know that up front.” He ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “Second I want a shot with you.”

“And third?” She could barely speak through the thrill.

“Full disclosure. I borrowed the book one night. Jessica lent it to me when I stayed for dinner after helping hang the antique chandeliers in the shed that’s been transformed into the shop. And I saw a recipe I want to make with you after we kiss again and then pluck some juicy blueberries that give me ideas that have nothing to do with jam.”

She giggled. Covered her mouth. She was not a giggler, and he caught the sound with his lips again. “This jam not jam have a name?”

“Hero’s Summer Surprise Strawberry Jam.”

She’d seen that one. It had a few unusual directions. “You do like playing with fire,” she marveled, her heart jumping with alarm or excitement, but she felt alive—so nerve-hopping, skin-sparkling, blood-surging-and-popping alive.

His smile lit her up. “Another one of my many superpowers.”

The air felt heated and thick, and Meghan flushed, wanting just to lean into this moment—it might be the only one they had, but she wanted to savor it, much like her warm buttery biscuits with a touch of jam.

“I remember that recipe,” she said. “The first step is to think of your heart’s desire and pick the berries before sunset, so the fruit is warmed by the kiss of a June day.”

He looked smug, and she lightly smacked his chest, though he covered her hand with his larger one.

“You plan ahead,” she said remembering what he’d told her about his working for his colleague today but only until six.

“When it’s important.”

“The second step is to wash the berries and spread them out on tea towels facing west to catch the last of the sun’s rays to warm and dry.” Her heart felt like it was jumping in her throat. “The book’s not really magic,” she warned.

He smiled. “Prove it.”

Chapter Eight

“How did youget up earlier than me?” Jessica demanded the next morning, skidding to a stop in the kitchen in her pink and white polka dot socks. “You were still jam queen when Storm and I finished for the night.”

“Bow to the mighty jam queen,” Meghan intoned in a dramatic voice. “I don’t even know that I slept,” she said in a normal voice. “Jackson and I were cooking up a new strawberry jam recipe when he got an emergency text, which I didn’t even know was a thing.”

“Is everything all right?”

“There was a fire at a dairy processing plant out near Gastonia and apparently they use some kind of very combustible gas that could level five city blocks or something equally apocalyptic, so multiple units were responding, and that left several fire stations unmanned for other calls, so the volunteer teams were called in.”

“Jackson’s not a volunteer.”

“But he was off yesterday. He’s pulling a twenty-four-hour shift today.” She tried to keep the worry out of her mind and her voice. “But he says that he’ll come by the open house tomorrow for moral support and to help if we need it.”

“He’s already acting like the employee that we don’t have,” Jessica mused. “Chloe calls my volunteer brigade FAFO-C-M.”

“That’s an awkward mouthful. What’s it stand for?” Meghan felt punchy tired.

“No idea. You should have heard her playing with potential acronyms. So weirdly funny. Everything okay at the dairy? With Jackson?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t text.” Even Meghan heard the worry she was trying to ignore.

“Text him.” Jessica’s tone was a familiarno duh.

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