Page 96 of Ashes of the Past
“I’m aware,” he says smoothly. “I’m a very lucky man.”
My stomach flips.
Gah, why does he have to be so sweet?
I can feel my cheeks turning pink again, and I can’t stop smiling. He walks past me, brushing up against me gently. His hand seeks out mine and he briefly squeezes it before he walks back outside.
The party continues in full swing, with kids darting in and out, tearing into their presents, and running around with excitement. Olivia is off playing with Ava, and I watch as Jack mingles effortlessly with his family.
Joanne and Rick get the kids all gathered outside on the back porch while Mrs. Renfrew carries the cake out with the candles on it. Ava blows them out and then starts opening her presents. When she’s through all of them, Jack hands her a card.
“Thanks, Uncle Jack.” She smiles as she opens it.
She rips into the paper, her eyes widening as she opens the card.
“What is it?” Joanne asks, leaning in.
Ava’s mouth falls open, and then, in a high-pitched scream, she shouts, “UNCLE JACK GOT ME TICKETS TO SEE MIDNIGHT HORIZON! VIP PASSES! I CAN MEET THEM! IS THIS REAL?”
The room erupts with excitement. Ava practically launches herself at Jack, hugging him so hard he stumbles back with a laugh.
“I figured you and a friend might like to go,” he says, ruffling her hair.
She jumps up and down, screaming in delight. She keeps running over and hugging Jack. She grabs Olivia and hugs her, and the two of them jump up and down some more.
“Man,” Bret says, shaking his head. “You really stole the show, Uncle Jack.”
Jack chuckles. “That was the goal, kid.”
Watching him with his niece and nephew, seeing the way he softens, the way he makes them feel special, it’s a side of him I really like. A side I can’t help but fall for a little more.
I’m in trouble.
The kids all run off to play and gush over all of Ava’s new clothes and presents, and all the girls are dreaming about the concert. The remnants of her birthday party are scattered—wrapping paper crumpled on the patio, half-eaten slices of cake abandoned on paper plates. The adults are gathered around, sipping sweet tea and chatting, their voices a comfortable hum in the background.
Jack is standing next to me, relaxed but present, his fingers occasionally grazing my lower back in quiet reassurance. It’s subtle—nothing overt that would catch Olivia’s or the kids’ attention—but it’s enough to keep my heart beating a little too fast. Every accidental brush of his hand against mine sends a rush of awareness through me, and I have to remind myself to stay focused on the conversation, not on how badly I want to pull him somewhere private and relive last night all over again.
Joanne shakes her head at Jack, a mixture of exasperation and affection in her expression. “You really didn’t have to go all out like that, you know.”
He chuckles, lifting his drink to his lips. “I wanted to. I’ve got the money to spend, and that’s how I wanted to spend it. I’m excited to take her and whoever else.”
She narrows her eyes at him. “You do realize you just volunteered yourself to sit through a concert full of screaming preteens, right?”
Mrs. Renfrew, sitting across from us, lets out a soft laugh. “Oh, honey, I give you ten minutes before you start regretting that decision.”
He shrugs, completely unfazed. “I wasn’t around a lot when Bret and Ava were little. That’s on me. But now that I’m backin Hicks Creek, I plan on being here for them. So, if that means enduring a few hours of chaos and high-pitched shrieking, I can handle it.”
Mrs. Renfrew’s expression softens, and she reaches over, pulling Jack into a quick hug. “I’m so glad you’re home for good.”
He returns the hug easily, his voice quiet but sure. “Me too, Ma.”
I watch the exchange, feeling a warmth settle in my chest. This side of Jack—the devoted uncle, the man determined to make up for lost time—is a contrast to the rugged cowboy who had me pinned against the post in the barn a few days ago. And yet, both versions of him feel undeniably like Jack.
His eyes meet mine as if he knows where my brain is right now. The air between us tightens for a moment, and I have to force myself to break eye contact before I get completely lost in him.
The conversation shifts, Joanne moving on to talk about the latest town gossip, and I take a sip of my drink, trying to ground myself. Jack’s presence is a constant, his fingers ghosting over my hand when no one is looking, his palm resting briefly on my lower back as he leans in to murmur something about how ridiculous the latest rumor is.
And through it all, my mind keeps circling back to one undeniable truth: I am in deep trouble with this man.
