Jesse chuckled. “Yeah, I just need practice, right?” But deep down, he knew he was playing with fire. Gemma was not the kind of woman you dabble with and then forget. Though she’d left his place early this morning, the residual glow still clung. If he was woo-woo like her, he’d call it a good vibe, one he yearned to explore.
“Gemma’s special, for sure.” He couldn’t help smiling at the memory of her teasing, the way she breathed in the beauty of the greenhouse and exhaled—what? Possibility? Optimism? “She’s one of those women where, once you look at her, really look at her, you can’t look away.”
Ryan clapped Jesse’s shoulder. “My friend, sounds like you’ve got a bad case of insta-lust.”
“Insta what now?”
“Like in those romance books Daphne’s always pushing.” Ryan’s older sister ran the town’s bookshop, catering to tourists and locals alike.
Jesse chuckled. “Maybe I better start reading those.”
Chapter Five
Fridayevening,Gemmapausedon Jesse’s front porch. Host gift? Check. Wine? Check. Hole-free lingerie and condoms, just in case? Check.
What she really ought to check was her expectations. Hard to imagine a worse match for her free-spirited self than taciturn, close-minded Jesse Del Toro. And yet, her intuition kept nudging her toward him. Okay, less a nudge and more of a shove. She’d learned the painful way that ignoring these messages was a bad idea. So she sucked in a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and reached for the doorbell.
The door opened before she could ring, revealing Jesse’s teasing grin. “Wondered how long you were gonna stand out there. Saying some kind of magic spell?”
“Maybe.” Easier to tease back than admit her nervous dithering. “You look nice.”
Awkward thing to say to a guy, perhaps, but wow. His soft, chambray shirt molded to his broad shoulders and muscular chest, with the top buttons undone to reveal a shadow of dark hair below his collar bones. Her fingers twitched with the urge to touch him there—and to follow the firm curves of his arms, to tug that shirt free from his belt and—
“Here.” She pulled a polished, blue-black stone from her pocket. “From Zora’s collection. Black tourmaline. Good for masculine energy.” She dropped it into his palm. “Not that you need any help in that area.”Is my face as red as it feels?“It also repels negativity and helps ward off your fears.”
He glanced from the stone to her face, brows contracted. “So you know exactly which rock I need to repair my aura? Or chakras? Or whatever?”
She hadn’t considered the possibility he’d be insulted by her gift. Way to make sure their first date was their last.
“No, of course not. I mean, I hardly know you, Jesse. But I’d like to.”
Yowza.She also hadn’t counted on this awkward truth avalanche.
“Hmmph.” Lips scrunched to the side, he turned the stone over and over with long, nimble fingers. “So you give me a magic rock to persuade me to go into business with you and Zora?”
She lifted her chin in an attempt to recapture a little dignity. “No. I was reorganizing Zora’s crystal display, and this one felt right for you.”
Still silent, he raised an eyebrow.
She sighed. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
The corners of his mouth hitched upward. “Well, I don’t, but I appreciate the thoughtful gesture.” He rubbed the tourmaline with his thumb, then slipped it into his front jeans pocket. “It’ll make a good worry stone.” His grin heated a few degrees. “Or should I not keep it so close to my, erm, masculine energy?”
Heat flooded her face.
Inching closer, he touched her cheek with his fingertip. “You’re pretty in pink.”
“Ha ha.” She lifted her other offering from her bag. “Aunt Marquetta’s blackberry wine.”
Jesse’s expression softened as he took the bottle. “My gramps used to make this stuff.”
Well, at least one gift landed.
“Come on in.” With his hand on the small of her back, he led her into the kitchen where they’d shared coffee last week. Tonight, the antique dining hutch and sideboard flickered with tea candles in mason jars, old-school jelly jars, and cut-glass tumblers. In the center of the table, a bouquet of fragrant, fresh herbs. She leaned over it to inhale their scent, then peeked from behind her curtain of hair at the enticing shift of Jesse’s muscles as he moved around the room. His hips swayed ever so slightly to the soft, bluesy guitar wafting from a speaker on the counter.
She sighed, mesmerized by the sight of this big, burly bull-man in his home element. All too soon, he hefted an enamel Dutch oven and carried it to the table. “Let’s eat.”
With a dented ladle, he filled rustic pottery bowls with hearty lamb stew. “Organically raised meat from my buddy’s farm.”
