After a long, relaxing shower of my own, and half a dozen treats for Roxy, we’re ready to head to Jenny’s. It’s only a two-mile hike from our door to hers. Along the way, I pick a bouquet of wildflowers, wishing I’d had time to drive to the store for roses. But making Roxy and myself presentable took longer than I’d expected.
I stop at the edge of the clearing of her backyard. The light is going golden through the trees, late afternoon sliding toward evening, and there's a light already on inside her place.
Roxy stops beside me, turning her face up to mine. She tilts her head, and I swear she’s saying, “We doing this or what?”
I take a deep breath. “Yeah, we’re doing this.”
I walk up to the door and knock once.
It opens immediately as if Jenny was standing there waiting for us.Maybe she was… ?
"You came,” she says, smiling. She’s wearing jeans that perfectly hug her hips and a spring green sweater that looks soft enough to sleep on. She’s curled her hair and swiped her lips with a pretty, pink gloss.
“Of course, we came.” I hold out the flowers for her. “For you, beautiful.”
She blushes, accepting the bouquet. “Thank you. You look amazing, Marine.”
I feel heat creep into my own face as I run a hand over my short hair. “Thanks, I—”
Roxy barks, interrupting me, demanding attention.
Laughing, Jenny kneels to scratch behind Roxy’s ears. “You look great too, girl.”
“She’s clean,” I say. “A task that took even more time than—” I wave a hand over my head and face “—this.”
She laughs. “You both clean up nice.”
I step inside. The place smells like delicious food again, something warm already on the stove. She moves past me toward the kitchen.
“I hope you brought your appetite,” she says.
“I always do,” I say, setting Roxy free as she makes a beeline for her favorite chair like she owns the place. I follow Jenny into the kitchen, drawn in by the smell. It’s something rich and savory—garlic, butter, and herbs—coming off a pan of seared chicken, with roasted vegetables and what looks like creamy mashed potatoes waiting on the counter. She moves around the space with that same quiet confidence, checking the stove, stirring, like she’s done this a hundred times.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” I say, leaning one shoulder against the wall.
“I wanted to,” she replies, glancing over at me with a small smile. “Besides, I had a little more time to plan tonight.”
Yeah. Me too.
She plates the food, handing me one of the dishes without hesitation like I belong here, like this is already something we do. I take it, our fingers brushing for just a second, and the contact sends a jolt of electricity through my entire body.
We sit across from each other at the small table, Roxy settling nearby with a satisfied huff. The first bite—juicy chicken, buttery potatoes, and perfectly roasted vegetables—is even better than the meal last night. I shake my head a little, looking at her. “You keep feeding me like this, I’m never leaving.”
Her cheeks grow pink, but she doesn’t look away this time. “That might be the idea.”
My eyes meet hers, and the attraction between us flares. I know now, with absolute certainty, that it’s not one-sided.
We clear the table together without discussing it. She rinses plates and hands them over, I stack them, and we work in a silence that's gotten comfortable in a way I didn't plan for.
She's standing at the sink rinsing the last of it when I step closer, wrapping an arm around her waist.
She freezes, and for a moment, I wonder if I’ve misread the situation. But then she leans against my side.
“Micah,” she says with a sigh.
"Jenny.” I turn her to face me. She comes easily, no hesitation, and when I look down, her face is already tilted up to meet mine.
So, I kiss her.