Chapter 7

Jo

I'm being too forward, but I'm feeling bold today.

I've essentially said the equivalent of "Hey, sexy, do you want to get out of here and go someplace private?" My cheeks are on fire. Who am I?

But still, I wait for Jakob to follow up.

"I'd love to see your village," Jakob says. "If you'd like to show it to me."

And there it is. Is this really happening? Am I really going to bring a suitor back to Mirror Lake and have him interrogated and examined by all the nosy villagers?

"I would put myself up in a hotel tonight, of course," he says, misreading my hesitation.

"It's not that. I'd love to take you home with me. I mean—oh gods." I shield my eyes, laughing at my choice of words.

"Relax, Josephine. If you're not ready for me to see your village and where you live, we can try this another day," he says.

I move my shielding hands and study that rugged face. So much has changed, but I feel that same spark, that same connection. And I feel that my awkwardness is leading him to think I feel pushed.

He's trying to hide the disappointment in his face, but I feel it in his entire demeanor. Jakob likes me. He really wants to spend time with me. Knowing that a man—a handsome, smart, gentle, interesting friend—wants to see where I live and is willing to put himself up in a hotel to make me feel more comfortable? It's too good to be true.

Or maybe it's exactly as good as things should be. Maybe this is my time, and I deserve good things.

I deserve to have someone like Jakob in my life, and what better time to start our time together than right now?

"What I meant to say, Jakob, is I would love to show you where I live."

And oh my gods, the creases that frame his eyes may as well be Cupid's arrows flung straight to my heart.

"You would?"

Feeling lighter all of a sudden, I confirm, "Yes, absolutely."

"Excellent."

I crane my neck to take a look at the timetables and see that there's a shuttle leaving for Mirror Lake in ten minutes.

If that's not a sign that we should leave now, together, I don't know what is.

We quickly purchase our tickets and board the shuttle bus together. Jakob's comforting hand on the small of my back as we move through the Salska station and onto the shuttle adds a layer of sweetness I've never experienced before. He's so gentle and protective with me: paying for my ticket, insisting that I go first on the bus, checking with me before choosing two seats together near the rear. I feel as if I'm walking around in his own personal warm bubble of protection.

Is that what it would feel like to be his girlfriend?

I wish. I really, really wish. I know it's so soon since we met again, but my mind and my heart are in alignment.

The bus is mostly empty, save for us and the driver and a family of four heading to the village for what looks like an epic vacation, judging by the amount of luggage they've stowed down below and in the overhead compartment.

One of the children, about the age of four, runs to the back of the bus and shows us a picture she's drawn of a popular cartoon character.

"That's a very good likeness," Jakob says.

"Thank you. You can keep it!"

"What's your name?"

"I'm Julia."

Jakob gasps and slaps his forehead in pretend shock. "The famous artist Julia?"

The little girl giggles and shakes her head. "No!"

Jakob studies her and looks at the crayon drawing he holds in his hand once more. "Are you sure? Because this looks like a Julia that I saw at the Louvre!"

"No, I'm just regular Julia!"

Jakob eyes her skeptically, stroking his beard. "No, no, there's nothing regular about this. You must autograph this for me, Julia."

The child clearly thinks Jakob is bonkers, but she shrugs and says, "Okay, I'll sign it for you."

Just as the girl is scribbling orange crayon on the back of the page, the girl's mother comes huffily down the aisle.

"Julia, honey, are you bothering these people?"

"Not at all!" I say.

The girl hands the paper back to Jakob, then turns to her mother, hands on her hips. "I was giving him my autograph, Mother!"

The harried mom chuckles and rests a hand on the girl's head.

"That's very nice, but you should come back to the front of the bus and stop bothering the other passengers."

I try to set her at ease. "She's adorable."

"And very talented," Jakob says.

"I think so too!" says the chubby-cheeked cherub, nodding emphatically.

We laugh and wave goodbye as her mother corrals her back to their section at the front of the bus with her brother and sister.

Beaming at him after the way he conducted himself with the little girl, I watch as Jakob carefully folds the picture into fourths and tucks it away into his back pocket.

I don't know what comes over me, but I have the overwhelming urge to grab him by the front of his perfect white shirt and plant my lips on his.

But I don't do that. I want to, but I don't do it.

The bus weaves through the countryside, and my anticipation builds as the environment grows more wild. And I'm kicking myself for thinking of little else but kissing him when we have so much catching up to do.

I reach over and grasp his hand. "I feel awful you had to stay at the group home, even up until you turned 18. If things were different, if my mother hadn't gotten sick, I know she would have taken you into our home in a heartbeat. She loved you like a son, Jakob, you know that. And…we might never have moved away."

Emotions well up over things I never had any choice about.

"Josephine, Josephine," Jakob sighs, compassion filling his eyes as he strokes his thumb over the back of my hand. "We can grieve about what we missed, but let's do that later."

I blink at him in surprise and confusion. "Later? Why later?"

The compassion in his expression changes to something darker. The look he gives me does confusing things to my body, and my skin prickles in anticipation.

"Because right now, I want to kiss you."

Our lips come together sweetly at first. Short, sweet, lovely kisses.

Holy hell, I'm being kissed. By a man. And that man is Jakob. My Jakob. After all these years!

My hesitation is set aside for now because kissing this man is not at all what I imagined. No one told me I would feel a good kiss everywhere in my body, including my lips. Places untouched and unseen by anyone except me. The pricking of my nipples makes me tremble.

As we kiss, Jakob takes one of my hands and turns it over, running his thumb over the inside my palm. That small sensation feels so exciting, so intimate, I let out an embarrassing little sigh. His tongue slips into my mouth, and I receive it wantonly.

This day may just turn into something better than curling up with wine and a good book—my usual day-off activity.

The noise of the engine, of the children arguing over snacks, and the squeaking of brakes all fade into faint background noise.

All I see and taste and smell is my sweet, hot, flirty, and sexy friend, Jakob.

Is this what friends with benefits is? Because I can see the appeal. Kissing Jakob is enough to get me to agree to anything, and friends with benefits appears high on that list.

And then I remember the sad truth that Jakob will find out if I let things progress any further.

That I'm a 29-year-old virgin with no experience in the bedroom. If he finds out, he's going to think I've been saving myself for our silly marriage pact, and that would be the ultimate humiliation.