Chapter 18

"Is this too much butter?" I ask Abigail.

"Those words are just sinful. There is never too much butter." Abigail laughs. I love the sound of it.

Every time I'm here I'm filled with so many emotions that it becomes overwhelming at times. It's so much different being around a real family. It makes me both sad and happy at the same time. Sad for what I never had and happy that I'm getting to experience it now.

"Especially when it's Irish butter," June adds, waltzing back into the kitchen. She has a way of disappearing when it's time to cook. To prove her point, she picks up a piece of fresh bread and smears butter all over it, shoving half of it in her mouth. No one can eat like June. It's impressive.

"Then, I think these are done." I put the lid on the mashed potatoes to keep them warm for now.

"So how is it staying over at Jackson"s? I don't think he's ever had a guest before." I know Abigail has been fishing for information on Jackson and me. I've been doing my best to dodge the questions because I'm not sure how to answer them, even if I wanted to. I don't want to say the wrong thing or speak for Jackson in any way.

"He has a guest room, though. Doesn"t he?" June looks to her mom. I open my mouth to say no but Abigail beats me to it. Except her response is different than mine was going to be.

"Yes, but there isn't much to it." Abigail lets out a small huff. "I tried to get him to let me do more, but the boy really is a minimalist. I was lucky to get a bed, nightstands, and a dresser in the extra room. There are four other bedrooms completely empty."

Only a mom could get away with referring to Jackson as a boy. If I hadn't stopped to admire some of the pictures around the house, I don't think I could have imagined him as such. Everything about him is so gruff and manly.

"Spare bedroom?" I ask. I regret the question as soon as it leaves my lips. Both of them swing their full attention to me.

"Are you not staying in the spare room?" Abigail fights a smile, clearly happy with the idea of this.

"I thought I was but I guess he gave me his bedroom," I admit. I really did think it was the spare room at first because of how bare it kind of was, but going off his mom, that's his style.

"Oh." The one word drips with disappointment from Abigail. At least I know she's fully on board if Jackson and I did become a thing.

I keep to myself that I checked all the other rooms being nosy and did not see a spare bedroom. Oh, there had been other rooms, but none had a bed in them. Interesting.

I'd been meaning to ask Jackson about it. I didn't want him sleeping on the couch. I felt guilty, but one thing led to another last night, and we shared the bed. Something I hope we repeat in the near future.

"I got it," I announce when the timer on the oven goes off. Before opening the oven door to grab the macaroni and cheese, I grab the pot holders. "Oh!" I yelp when I'm pulling it out and my forearm brushes against the metal rack. The dish falls from my hand. I cringe, closing my eyes, preparing to feel the splatter of hot, melty cheese all over my legs, but instead, an arm wraps around me, yanking me back.

"Let me see." Jackson turns me toward him to inspect my arm. There is a thin red line. I'm sure my face is just as red with embarrassment.

Of course, I messed up in front of everyone. Memories of my mom chastising me for always doing things wrong come to the forefront of my mind. I want to run and hide, but I know that's not possible while Jackson is this close to me.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. A knot forms in my throat. Both Abigail and June rush to tell me it's okay, but I can't help but still be self-conscious. Maybe I should stay out of the kitchen like June does. I'm more trouble than I am help.

"Come on." Jackson scoops me up into his arms, carrying me out of the kitchen.

"What are you doing?"

"The first aid kit is in the bathroom."

"I can walk." The man is always picking me up. I kind of love it, but right now I want to hide in the bathroom alone until I'm not embarrassed anymore.

"And I can carry." He sets me down on the counter in the bathroom.

"They're all going to think something is going on with us if you keep manhandling me." Since we got here, if Jackson and I are near each other, he is always touching me, and everyone is noticing. There is no missing their eyes on us.

"There is something going on between us." Jackson leans down to grab the first aid kit. I watch as he gently tends to the small burn. I don't think it's going to blister, but with how Jackson treats it, you'd think it is a first-degree burn.

"How's it feeling?" he asks when he puts the bandage over it.

"I'm good." To try to reassure him, I give him a smile. Jackson puts everything away. I start to slip off the counter, but he stops me. His hand comes down on both sides of my legs, caging me in. He leans in, his face getting closer to mine.

"Is there a problem with people knowing about us?"

"I don't know," I admit. His eyebrows rise. I can tell from his expression that he doesn't care for my response. "I mean, you don't even live here. If we're a fling or whatever?—"

"I came inside of you," he says bluntly.

"Jackson!" I hiss, burying my face in his chest. He wraps his arm around me, keeping me pinned against him.

"Don't call us a fling."

I peek up at him. "Then what is this?"

"You're mine." I open my mouth to ask him what that fully means, but Abigail lets out an excited squeal. Jackson didn't close the bathroom door. "Mom, can you give us a second?"

"No, food is done." A smile lights up her whole face. Jackson's hands go to my hips to pull me off the counter. Abigail grabs my hand to lead me away.

"Did I ever tell you I used to be a wedding planner when I was younger?" I glance over my shoulder at Jackson, who is smirking while shaking his head. Are we really talking about weddings right now?

This all seems too fast but right. Too bad I think I might still be engaged to another man.