“It was late, and now it’s early.”

Jessica stared at her as if she’d lost her mind, and Meghan was leaning in that direction. Jessica quickly tapped out a text.

“Wait, you’re not texting him. You’re not…” She lunged for Jessica’s phone, just as Storm entered the kitchen, hair wet from the shower and wearing a collared sage green T-shirt with a Cramer-Maye Farms Nursery and Design logo.

Jessica laughed and tossed Meghan’s phone to Storm, who caught it, while Meghan goggled at the logo—a sketch of the barn with open barn door and magnolia branch in full bloom across the top.

“You got shirts?”

Of course her sister had. She’d had T-shirts made for whatever group she was in or project she was heading since high school.

“Wait are you two teaming up—like officially, officially?”

They both stared at her as if she’d started speaking French or Italian.

“I’m the design,” Storm deadpanned and then strutted across the kitchen like a supermodel on a catwalk to pour a coffee first for Jessica and then himself. He waved the pot at Meghan.

“Why didn’t I know that?” Meghan demanded.

Had she been that focused on her own life and angst and new plans that once again she’d been ignoring her sister?

Jessica sipped her coffee and looked at the collection of sixty or so new jars of jam.

“What’s up with the different-colored bows?” Jessica asked. They’d bought the white bows with little strawberries on them together at the fabric store. “We still have dozens of rolls.”

“Yeah,” Meghan said, embarrassed. “Just thought I’d change it up.”

“How?” Jessica darted forward and looked at the jars then theSouthern Love Spellsbook open to the recipe. “You didn’t. You did.”

Jessica stepped back, like Meghan was contagious.

“It was Jackson’s idea.”

“And did you both indulge in a little jam play last night?” She stuck her tongue out like she was licking something.

“That’s a little lewd for this early in the morning,” Meghan noted.

Storm snorted a laugh. “I’m out of here, ladies. Big day today. Too big to think about you and Jackson kissing—or should I say licking berries.”

The silence when he was gone thrummed like the air conditioner switching on.

“He got paged before we finished,” Meghan said. “And really the recipe’s similar—I didn’t use my lavender-infused sugar, so I am curious, but I wanted to use the different ribbon on the jars and maybe call it Heritage Strawberry Jam or something since it is from a family cookbook.”

“Smart.” Jessica pointed at her and then took another sip of coffee. “Even if it’s not a family cookbook.”

“Pretty sure it is,” Meghan said stubbornly, and for once, Jessica didn’t push back.

“You’ll want to be careful with that. Was there a weird thing to the recipe or do you think it’s safe?”

“I’m sure it’s safe,” Meghan said with more confidence than she felt, but maybe that was just excitement or wishing that bubbled through her blood. “The only odd part of the recipe was totaste the jam’s sweetness under a hero’s loving gaze.”

Jessia laughed. “Right. Did Jackson flex and offer to make googly eyes at you?”

“He’d been called away by that step,” Meghan said. “I vacillated between which actor I could bring up on my phone—does the book literally mean a hero like Jason Momoa inAquaman, or could it be Timothée Chalamet because he is an artistic hero in movies like the Bob Dylan movie. Or a classic hero like Harrison Ford in the earlyStar Warsmovies?”

“Who’d you go with?”

“Chris Hemsworth.”