Page 65 of Size Doesn't Matter

“And the chocolates?”

“You mean the artisanal chocolates with the seasonal fillings that they only make at certain times of the year? The ones he got them to make specifically for me even though they’re currently out of season? Not exactly cliched.”

“And the cheese basket? You didn’t eat that.”

“Only because my refrigerator had already gone into storage and there was no way I could have eaten that much cheese before it went bad. I mean, really. Unrefrigerated dairy in Queensland in summer? I don’t think so.”

Anna chuckled. “Good point.”

“And it’s not as if I didn’t eat any of it. When I gave it to my neighbours, they invited me in for fivesies, and that blue vein camembert—” She lifted her fingers to her mouth and kissed their tips. “—to die for.” A small smile tugged at her lips as she remembered how she’d felt when she’d received the gifts. Irritated, yes, but the consideration Jack had put into his gift giving game made her feel as if he knew her, saw her. Understood her. “I will admit though, as bossy as Jack is, he’s very sweet, and I’ve never been with a man who’s sweet before. Or thoughtful. Or just so damnnice.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” she said, defensively. “It’s an unexpected thing, but it’s definitely not a bad thing. And to be honest, I could use a little more nice in my life. My romantic partners, as you know, have not always been very nice.”

Anna raised her mug in salute. “You and me both, sister.”

“I don’t know, maybe—” She sighed heavily and rubbed at the sudden tension squeezing her forehead. “Maybe I’m just so used to dating shitheads that I can’t recognise what love is supposed to look like. And maybe it looks different with different people and at different ages. Like when I was seventeen, love looked like wearing a boy’s footy jersey and making out in the back row at the movies where his mates couldn’t see him snogging the fat girl.”

“Teenage boys are idiots.”

“And in my early twenties, love looked like fringe gallery openings, seedy clubs, too much cheap wine, bruised ribs and a concussion because he didn’t like my brattitude.”

Anna reached across the island and grabbed Sophie’s hand. “You know that wasn’t your fault. That guy was a walking red flag.”

“It didn’t look red up close,” she said, savagely dumping the rest of her tea in the sink. “Not until it was too late.” She scowled at the memories assaulting her brain, at the harsh realities of then and now and the realisation they brought with them. “And what I felt for that jerk pales in comparison to how I feel about Jack so why couldn’t I tell him I love him? Because… I do. I love Jack. Which I know is insane because I barely know the man.” She cast an anxious glance at Anna, the ache in her head increasing to a steady pounding rhythm. “Or maybe it’s just baby hormones.”

“Or maybe we should get to know each other better and find out.”

Sophie spun towards the kitchen door and saw Jack leaning against the doorjamb, his arms folded, one foot crossed over the other and a lopsided grin decorating his handsome face. “You’re home,” she said, his presence sucking all the air out of the room and leaving her breathless.

“How long have you been standing there?” Anna asked, her eyes narrowed.

His grin widened. “Long enough.” And then to Sophie, he said, “Come here.”

Without hesitation, she walked towards him, his command like an invisible string pulling her into his orbit, and the closer she got, the more she noticed the heat burning in his sapphire eyes. A heat that threatened to engulf her in flames and eat her alive.

Behind her, Anna cleared her throat. “I think that’s my cue to leave.”

Sophie barely even registered her friend slipping past them and uttering her goodbyes as she disappeared from view, but she noticed Jack’s hands on her body well enough, pulling her close as he enveloped her in his warmth and stole a kiss.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked, the heat in his gaze cooling into concern as he focussed on her face. “Are you nauseous again?”

Choosing to ignore the insecurities at the back of her mind telling her she looked like shit—why else would Jack assume she felt ill?—she decided to lean into foreign territory and trust he was being sincere. “A little bit,” she said. “And I have a headache.”

Jack kissed her forehead. “Okay, first we take care of you,” he said, directing her through to the lounge room and seating her on the couch. “A little food, a lot of fluids, and maybe a foot rub?” he said, his eyebrows raised. When she smiled and nodded, he continued. “Good, because then we’re gunna play twenty questions.” The smile fell from his face. “And you can bet your spectacular arse one of those questions will be the name of the fucker who hit you.”

25

Ilove Jack.

He’d heard her say it, clear as day. Sophie Bennett, the woman Jack had fantasised about for longer than he was willing to admit, loved him.

Now he just needed her say it to his face.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on her conversation with Anna, but when she’d mentioned the arsehole giving her a concussion, fury had consumed him, and he’d needed a moment to calm himself before going to her. But then she’d admitted her feelings for him. And then she’d tried to pass it off as baby brain.

No. He wasn’t settling for that.

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