Page 36 of Don't Fall for a Grump

“How’s Sarah?” I ask.

“She’s good. You should call her.”

I wasn’t too impressed with Sarah when I first met her. She appeared to be far too clingy. But as she and Jonathan grew as a couple, I realized it was just her way of showing affection. Jonathan was happy. And that was all that mattered.

“So, how’s the new digs?” he asks.

I sit up and lean against the headboard. “You should come out here and see for yourself. It’s about as isolated as you can get, but I like it.”

“I might just do that.”

I’m about to reply, when there’s a knock on the door. My first thought is that it’s Jackson. Is he back? Has he come over to see me?

“There’s someone at the door. Hang on a minute,” I say to Jonathan, practically throwing myself off the bed. I switch to loudspeaker and drop the phone on the duvet, while I scour my bedroom for a hoodie to throw over my thin strapped pajama top.

“Sure,” he says.

With the hoodie on, I pick the phone up again.

“I might have to call you back,” I say, as I skip down the stairs.

I can hardly believe my eyes when I reach the front door. Jonathan is on the porch with his phone still to his ear, and a big smug grin beaming all over his face. I yank the door open, while he opens the screen door, and we’re now both standing there with our phones still in our hands.

“Is it anybody you know?” he says, beginning to laugh.

“What are you doing here?” I squeal, dropping the phone onto a nearby table. I don’t give him a chance to answer, and launch toward him, throwing myself at him. He’s still laughing when he catches me, grabbing me tight, before spinning me around right there on the porch. My legs are wrapped around his body, my feet off the floor. Jonathan has no difficulty lifting me with his huge muscular build and, still laughing, he carries me into the house.

When he finally puts me down, he gives me a long and tight hug. He then takes a step back and looks me up and down. “So, you’ve been up from five this morning, have you?” he smirks.

“You knew that wasn’t the truth the minute I said it,” I reply with a grin.

“Yep. You always did love your Sunday lie ins, even when you were a kid.”

“Yes, well,” I quip back. “Unlike you, who’s up at a sparrow’s fart and hitting the gym, I am not a morning person. At least, not on a Sunday.”

I’m so happy to see him here, I can hardly think. Spinning around aimlessly, wondering what I should be doing, my eyes land at the kitchen.

“Coffee?”

“After that drive, you bet.”

I stare at him. “You drove?”

“Sure. It’s only a few hours.”

I shake my head and laugh. “You’re quite mad, you know that?”

“For years.” He smirks.

We settle on the porch holding steaming hot cups of coffee and enjoy the morning birdsong. Jonathan already took a good look at the cottage. He’s now scanning the area round about.

“Well, what do you think?” I glide my hand through the air in the general area of the garden.

“It could do with a mower,” he says, then grins.

“Oh, give me a break. I’m still unpacking. The garden is the last thing on my mind.”

He looks at me with a warm smile. “It’s actually quite nice here,” he says, before looking back out at the garden and the rolling fields that tumble beyond. “A lot quieter than the city.”

“That’s why I like it here so much.”

Jonathan doesn’t speak for a long minute, like he’s considering something, and then he turns to me again. “So, you’re staying? You’re not coming back to the city? Ever?”

“I’ve only just got here,” I deflect.

“You know what I mean, Bree.”

Of course, I know what he means. He knows my reasons for being out here. He also knows, because we talked about it before I left New York, that once I got my head straight, I had a few options. I could either sell the cottage or keep it and rent it out, if I ever wanted to go back. The move out here was never meant to be permanent. I was going to give myself a year, and then reassess my options.

But in all that planning, I had never expected to meet someone like Jackson. Now, as I try and think about how I want to answer Jonathan’s question, Jackson Scott does little but muddy the waters of my mind.

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