Page 75 of Don’t Go Stealing My Heart

Okayyyyy. He could have made her a cup, but he stepped away, his cheekbones rosier than they should be. If he’d filled those pods with dirt as a practical joke, hellfire would rain.

She approached the pods warily, narrowing her eyes as she neared them. One sat higher than the others. It had a sticky note on top that read Open Me. She tried not to grin. She tried to scowl and pretend this game wasn’t the best morning-after fun she’d ever had.

Bottom lip trapped between her teeth, she peeled back the tab and gasped. “What is this?”

“A gift.” Jack was suddenly behind her, his hands brushing her hair over her shoulder.

“I can’t accept it.”

“You can and you will.”

“It must have cost a fortune.” The teardrop chocolate diamond wasn’t a fake. Six carats, easy. Its gold chain and the small clear diamonds surrounding the stone were real, too. Fortune was an understatement.

Jack reached over her and tipped the delicate necklace out of the pod. “It belonged to my grandmother and was left to me, so it didn’t cost me anything. But even if it did, you promised not to judge my spending.”

She’d also promised herself to never get greedy with her money, to always use the excess to help others. “Really, Jack. I can’t. It’s too much.”

Ignoring her, he laid the stone over her sternum and fastened the clasp at her nape. Goosebumps erupted along her neck.

“The chocolate diamond reminds me of the darker flecks in your eyes,” he whispered. “I decided to give it to you before our encounter at the estate. It means more to give it to you now. I hope the necklace reminds you of me.”

She was in his T-shirt, in his house, wearing his family’s invaluable jewelry against her thudding heart, even though he knew all her secrets. She didn’t need baubles to make her think of Jack, but the gesture clearly meant something to him. Maybe one teensy, excessive gift wasn’t so bad.

She turned and flattened her palms on his chest. “I hated waking up without you next to me, but I loved your game, and this”—she pressed her fingers into the diamond—“is beautiful.”

He kissed her nose. “You’re beautiful. How about some breakfast?”

She definitely needed something to soak up the soppy feelings filling her belly.

They moved around each other in his kitchen, like a regular couple, while they gathered fruit and she learned his space. He kissed and touched her at every chance. She kept fingering her new necklace, couldn’t believe Jack cared enough to gift it to her.

She held his kitchen knife and attempted to focus on slicing melon for their yogurt bowls. “Do you always eat this healthy?”

He sipped his coffee, one hand on his mug, the other tracing circles on her shoulder. “As often as I can, but I’m not strict about it. You know I love Whatnot’s turnovers.”

“Apple,” she said. “Strawberry when frisky.” She smiled to herself, then she remembered she’d first learned that fact from Lucien’s file on Maxwell David the Third. Her smile slipped.

“What’s your favorite color?” The softness of his voice turned the mundane question intimate.

“Green.” She looked up at him. “Where’s your favorite place you’ve ever traveled?” She needed new details. New likes. Things she discovered for herself.

“Paris. Yours?”

“Outside of the States, I’ve only ever been to India. Just that once to see the orphanage, but I fell in love with it.”

He tilted his head, a spark of something lighting his eyes. “It’s a fascinating country.”

“Why Elvis?” she asked, eager for more. “Did you fall in love with his music because of your grandfather, or was it more than that?”

Jack left her briefly and returned with two bowls of yogurt. He placed them on the counter. As soon as his hands were free, he stroked one down her back, eliciting a contented sigh from her.

“My granddad introduced me to the music and encouraged me to sing, along with my speech therapist. I also had lots of free time, seeing as I didn’t have a full social calendar. I spent a lot of those hours building models and mucking around outside, and playing with that super cool yo-yo, but I’d also research Elvis on the internet. I learned he’d never taken a guitar lesson, couldn’t even read or write music, and I think that stuck with me, how a man could do something great with nothing. He made rock and roll an international language, brought people together. He made me feel whole and invincible when I listened and sang his songs, not like a loser who couldn’t form a sentence.”

Elvis had rehabilitated him, the way Jack yearned to rehabilitate others: birds and frogs as a kid, his beautiful reptiles now. Clementine. Maybe that was where his compassion came from, wishing to banish that damaged feeling from his youth. Helping others see the best in themselves. “You make a wonderful Elvis,” she said, hoping he saw her understanding and how hard she’d fallen for him.

He stared at her so long her cheeks heated. Then his brow furrowed. “Do you know how to swim?”

She sputtered out a laugh. “Why would you ask that?”