Oh shit.” I slam my laptop closed and try to clear all the bottles off the counter. “Is it five already?”

“Seems that way,” Jackson says, ambling toward the guesthouse door. It takes me a second to realize he intends to answer it, but by then it’s too late to stop him.

“Abigail and Nico,” he says, an announcement and a greeting all in one. He makes a grand gesture, cocky and pompous, and steps back to let them in.

I reach the door just as Nico barrels through. “Hi Aunt Nat,” he says and then slams on the brakes. He turns to Jackson. “Who are you?”

Jackson sticks out his hand for Nico to shake. “Jackson Wirth. Dinosaur hunter and pirate.”

Abby’s eyes flash wide with surprise and it’s not just about the dinosaur hunter bit. I haven’t told her about Jackson and me and this business deal. The last time she saw us together was at Holy Grounds, and the time before that I was actively trying to run away from him.

Shit. My best friend will think these are pretty key details to have left out and I know I’m going to hear about it.

“We’re just wrapping up here,” I tell Abigail now, nodding my chin at Jackson.

I’m so worried about her reaction that it takes me a minute to notice she’s dressed up. She’s gone beyond the usual lip gloss and low-cut shirt to lipstick and glamour curls and a slinky dress.

“You look hot.” I smack her butt playfully as she steps through the door. “What’s the occasion?”

“Don’t sound so suspicious,” she grumbles, but she preens over my compliment. She looks at Jackson, who’s still talking to Nico, before lowering her voice. “I’ve got a date.”

I haven’t heard Abigail talk about a date in a long time and I’m so excited for her I almost squeal. “My baby’s all grown up,” I say and we both laugh because Abby has her shit together way more than most people I know. She’s a single mom. She kind of has to.

Abigail hands me an Easter basket stuffed with markers and glue and no fewer than three rolls of tape. “He’s really into building stuff right now,” she explains. “Should keep him occupied for a while.”

“We’ll have a blast,” I assure her. “Go have fun, okay?”

She gives me a squeeze and blows a kiss to Nico before heading back into the night.

I turn back to Jackson. “I’ve got it from here.”

“But Jackson and I are going on a dinosaur hunt in the backyard,” Nico tells me. “He can’t leave.”

Jackson nods his agreement.

I press my lips together. I’m not entirely convinced that Jackson doesn’t have an ulterior motive for wanting to stay, and I need some space from him. I can’t believe how close I just came to saying yes to his insane proposition. I can’t even begin to think about the consequences.

Fuck me. I need to get back to Boston, and get away from the chaos Jackson causes in my life. I want my world easy and ordered again. I want a routine and time to dream and a business that works. But as much as I don’t want to need Jackson, I have to admit that he’s a big part of this business now. Which I guess means, for now, that he can stay.

I sigh. “Okay, fine.” Nico cheers.

The three of us spend the next thirty minutes poking around Gayle’s garden and collecting stones and sticks and leaves and curls of bark. The syrupy spring air smells like cut grass and lilacs, and somewhere inside Gayle’s house, a vacuum comes to life. Down the street I can hear kids playing witches and wizards, and I imagine them riding around on tree branches that came down in the last storm. The whole night feels like something big is coming down the line, something sweeping in with the changing seasons.

It reminds me, swiftly, of the way Abby and I would lie out on her trampoline on nights just like this, waiting for the stars to come out. It’s actually kind of what all of high school felt like. Being happy to be right here, while also looking forward to when everything would change.

The second we dump our basket of garden treasures on the kitchen table, Nico pokes my elbow. “I’m hungry.”

Right. Food.

I’ve been so caught up in my day that I don’t actually have a game plan, especially not for dinner.

“Grilled cheese?” I offer. I’ve developed quite the habit the last few weeks. Easy, quick, and delicious. I just pretend the calories don’t exist. My face compresses. “Oh wait. I’m out of bread. We could order a—”

“Mac and cheese.” Jackson looks at Nico. “I bet you’d like my secret dinosaur hunter pirate recipe.”

“Jackson, if your secret recipe comes from a little blue box, I’m fresh out.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jackson walks to my refrigerator and calls over his shoulder to me. “You guys can just build me a pirate ship while you wait.”

“A pirate ship!” Nico crows. He looks up at me, his eyes sparkling. “Can we use the dogwood bark for the sails?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

I watch in surprise as Jackson pulls cheese and milk and mustard from the refrigerator and sets them on the counter. Apparently he’s been paying attention to more than just the beer in my kitchen.

Nico pulls me down to the table. “Come on, Natalie. I need you to help me.”

“I’ve got it,” Jackson assures me.

Okay then.

I help Nico make a rough frame for his boat and together we line the bottom with leaves. By the time Jackson sets down bowls of mac and cheese in front of us, the ship is almost done. My kitchen’s warm and filled with steam and the smell of butter.

The three of us gobble up Jackson’s dinner. He’s somehow made a miracle from my limited pantry items, creamy and salty and super comforting. He even sneaked in some peas which Nico doesn’t seem to mind. But then, anything coated in this delicious cheese sauce would turn to gold.

Jackson Wirth can really cook. How the hell is he always surprising me?

Jackson catches my eye and my stomach drops into my knees, heat pooling in my core.

I chose Boston, I remind myself. I chose the Commons and Fenway Park and sake in Chinatown. The things I don’t know about Jackson, I don’t know for a reason.

As the night goes on I keep expecting Jackson to leave, but he stays. I can handle Nico on my own for a little while, but it’s nice to have Jackson’s help. I can’t imagine doing this every day, alone. Abby is so brave. And probably so damn tired. I make a mental note to do way more babysitting for her while I’m here. Girlfriend needs a break.

After we eat, Jackson insists that Nico and I sit on the couch.

“Are you going to tell scary stories?” Nico guesses when Jackson turns off the lights.

I cut my eyes at Jackson. “Abigail will kill me if he can’t sleep tonight.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “She’ll kill me. And it would be a waste of a pretty face.” He arranges my plaid blanket around Nico’s shoulders. Then he flicks on a single lamp and sits on the floor.

“A tiger!” Nico says, watching Jackson’s hands cast shadow puppets on my back wall. “A duck!”

The guesthouse still smells like cheese and butter, and in the warmth and darkness I watch Jackson, the weirdness of this afternoon slipping away. I lose track of time as he creates magic, but I can feel a smile etched on my face the whole night.

“Asleep,” Jackson murmurs after a while. I blink in confusion before noticing Nico pressed against my side, his face relaxed as he dreams.

I slide out from his arms, taking care not to wake him. It’s just Jackson and me again in the growing shadows.

“How are you so good at that?” I ask. I don’t remember ever seeing Jackson with kids. “Tell me a story.”

Jackson shrugs and stands up. “When I lived in California my parents both worked a ton. I had a kick-ass babysitter who did shadow puppets for me when I was scared of the dark. Julie.”

I try to process this but all I can say is, “You were afraid of the dark?”

“Don’t laugh.” He reaches out a hand to pull me to my feet. “I was like five and a Californian. I was used to lots of sunshine.”

“Mhmm,” I say. I realize my hand is still in Jackson’s, and I let go quickly.

He looks at the space between us. “Let’s have a drink. Payment for babysitting.” It’s a dangerous proposition.

Should I share a drink with Jackson? I don’t know what’s a good idea anymore. The past few weeks I’ve been pushing him out the door like I’m Cinderella, but somehow it’s well past my cutoff time and he’s still here. There’s something fizzy about the whole day with Jackson, like the first time I had caffeine after four p.m. I was working a night shift and I called Jackson from the back room of Holy Grounds, sugar and caffeine spiking through my blood.

“It’s your fault,” I told him, demanding he take me somewhere after my shift. “You got me hooked on coffee.”

Jackson drove me to the park at the edge of town, the one with the giant amphitheater where the local theater put on plays and firework displays in the summer. There was no one there, so we could shout out and listen to our voices echo.

“Natalie Bloom,” he called into the crisp night, and hearing my name from his mouth a hundred times spoiled me.

“Jackson Wirth,” I called back, and we echoed around each other for a while. When our voices faded we lay with our heads together on one of the benches and watched the stars.

The park, for me, became another secret place. Another Jackson place.

“Okay,” I tell Jackson now, whispering so I don’t wake Nico. I’m bubbly and half-drunk on him and I want him to say my name like he did that night. Like I meant something to him. “But no caffeine or beer for me. I’ve got to work in the morning.”

“Fine,” Jackson says. “I’ll have what you’re having.”

I grin at him and make my way to the kitchen. “Hot chocolate?” I verify, raising an eyebrow.

“Only if there’s whipped cream.”

“Consider it done.” He clears the dinner table while I heat milk on the stove. I try not to notice the way the muscles in his arms look in the light, strong and able. But he’s there and he’s Jackson, so I notice.

When I hand Jackson his drink I take one last hesitant look at my sleeping godson. Then I make a decision that I hope I don’t regret.

“Come on,” I say as I lead Jackson out the door and into the cooling night.