“Jesse. Yes. Now,” she panted, then curled forward as her pussy gripped him like a satin-gloved fist. He screamed her name, and his spirit soared into the night sky, dancing with hers while their bodies shuddered below.

  Slowly, his mind and body reunited, and he opened his eyes to find Gemma draped across him, her jacket and sweater twisted, her eyes closed in bliss.

  Okay, that was just sex, right? Really good sex, but not an actual out-of-body experience on the astral plane.

  But no matter how his rational mind scrabbled for an explanation, deep down where the truth lived, Jesse knew this amazing connection was meant to be.

  Chapter Eleven

  The next week flew by. Zora returned to the shop for half days, her body still fatigued from surgery but her mind buzzing with ideas for the expo, now just a week away. Gemma spent evenings huddled with her aunt over plans for their booth. Transporting all their goods and display materials down to Portland was a huge logistical challenge the likes of which she had yet to experience, since most of her previous work had more to do with herding people.

  Jesse came over most evenings. His eye for detail and insistence on back-up plans proved invaluable. But by bedtime, Gemma was wiped out, so their lovemaking dwindled to brief tumbles in his bed. A few nights, when she couldn’t even keep her eyes open, Jesse tucked her into Zora’s lumpy guest bed, gave her a sweet goodnight kiss, and left her to sleep alone. She missed him on those nights, and the next morning when she woke without his big, toasty body spooned around hers. But soon this expo adventure would be over, and they’d rediscover their rhythm, a process she was looking forward to with great anticipation.

  “See you tomorrow night?” He murmured as he tucked her in on Saturday. “I’ll make us something special.”

  “Sounds wonderful.” She wound her arms around his neck, kissed him, and nestled into her pillow. It had been a long day at the shop with an unusual number of customers, a broken toilet, a drunk, belligerent palmistry client, and unending phone calls to suppliers who made excuses about late shipments. She was wiped out.

  With a chuckle, he whispered, “Sweet dreams, fairy girl,” and walked to the door.

  “Jesse?” she croaked.

  “Yeah, babe?”

  “You’re a wonderful boyfriend.”

  He paused in the doorway, holding the frame. As she slid into slumber, she had the funniest thought—Jesse as a sculpted marble figure of Atlas, holding up the roof, keeping her safe and sheltered. Sweet, generous, dependable Jesse. She was lucky to have him.

  The next morning, she woke to the scent of pancakes. Confused, she rubbed her eyes and stretched. Jesse made the most wonderful pancakes, but she was in her own bed, not his bigger, comfier one. She slid into her slippers and robe and padded into the kitchen.

  A loud, goose-like honking made her jump.

  “Happy birthday, darling girl!” Wearing shiny paper hats and tooting party horns, Zora and Marquetta squeezed her in a hug sandwich.

  She yawned. “Oh yeah, it’s the thirteenth, isn’t it?”

  Marquetta beamed. “We made your favorite—chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream.”

  Honestly, she’d be happier with yogurt and granola, but it was sweet of her aunties to fix her childhood favorite. Since growing up, she didn’t pay much attention to birthdays, so a candle stuck into a stack of Marquetta’s pancakes was all the fuss she needed. At her age, she certainly wasn’t counting on a bouncy castle, a pile of gifts, or a pony, for goodness’ sake. Just another day like any other.

  “Say, you didn’t tell Jesse it’s my birthday, did you?”

  “Of course not.” Zora patted her shoulder. “Although if you ask me, this birthday avoidance quirk of yours is weird. The young man adores you. Let him spoil you a little.”

  She laughed and wiped whipped cream from her chin. “He spoils me plenty.” Not that she’d go into the details of how deliciously he spoiled her—not at her aunties’ breakfast table, anyway. “I’ll tell him when I see him tonight.”

  Marquetta shook her head. “Knowing Jesse, he’d want to bake you a cake.”

  “He always makes a dessert when I come over. We’ll just stick a candle in it.”

  “What about presents?”

  “His presence is all the present I need.” She batted her eyelashes and flashed a teasing grin. It had taken years to convince her family to stop buying her birthday and holiday gifts. While she appreciated the sentiment, with her itinerant lifestyle, where would she keep all the trinkets?

  Better this way. Jesse seemed to be at peace with their differences. He’d understand. And if he insisted on giving her a gift, she’d ask for another of his bone-melting massages. The man truly had magic hands.

  Still, as Gemma walked to the shop, an odd, fizzy feeling washed over her, prickling her skin into goosebumps. She froze and glanced around, but no clues presented themselves. The winter sun shone extra bright and sharp, and the ocean’s salty scent floated on a brisk wind that whipped her hair into her face. She scraped the errant strands back with both hands, closed her eyes, and focused inward.

  Something important was coming her way today. This sensation of premonition always heralded a turning point—but for good or ill?

  No answer came, so she continued down Main Street. She’d know soon enough.

  The shop was busy for a February Sunday, the fair weather having drawn tourists from inland. No sign of Jesse, who told her he’d be running deliveries to restaurants and markets all day. Had he somehow found out about her birthday? That would explain her hunch. A steady stream of palmistry customers kept her from pondering further.

  “Gemma, darling.” Zora poked her head around the wooden screen. “Your next customers are here.”

  She knuckled her eyes. “Customers? I can’t do a group reading.”

  “Surprise!” In a flurry of waving hands and flying hair, Margot, Sierra, and Olivia burst around the screen and lifted her in a group hug.

  “You guys!” She couldn’t believe her teary eyes. She hadn’t seen her girl posse from Eugene since she left Oregon a month ago. “What are you doing here?”

  “Celebrating your birthday, of course.” Margot blew into a party noisemaker that unfurled its paper tube and bopped her on the nose.

  “Bullseye,” Sierra squealed. “Here, you wear this.” She pulled a “Birthday Princess” tiara from her oversized bag and plopped it onto Gemma’s head.

  “We got a suite in Portland, baby.” Olivia smooched her on both cheeks. “We’re gonna paint the town.”

  Gemma straightened her crown and gave a mighty sniffle. “Goddess, I’ve missed you guys so much!”

  After a month of communicating only on tiny screens, seeing her friends in the flesh filled her heart with giddy warmth. So that’s what set off her inner radar. Somehow, she must’ve sensed their approach.

  “I can’t believe you drove all this way just to surprise me,” she squealed and threw her arms around them again.

  And then a chill slithered down her spine. “Oh, but I have a date tonight.”

  “Cancel it,” Margot said with a flip of her hand. “Sisters before misters.”

  “Now, now, be fair.” Olivia, ever the level-headed one, clucked her tongue. “If Gemma has a new fella, she can’t just blow him off.”

  “Right.” Sierra nodded. “He can come with us. We’ve got a table at this new vegan restaurant, and my cousin’s getting us into the best club, I swear. Your boyfriend likes to dance, right?”

  Gemma sputtered. “Actually, I don’t know.” Sure, they’d danced in his living room, but that only lasted a few minutes before they got horizontal. Somehow, she couldn’t imagine Jesse on a crowded dance floor.

  When she lived in Eugene, where she’d met this trio at an art festival, they’d get together at least a couple times a month for a girls’ night out. Sometimes, Margot’s boyfriend Elmer would come along, and they’d all dance around him in a giggling, bopping scrum of energy and alcohol.

  Jesse was a good sport, but she didn’t see him enjoying their kind of fun.

  “What’s that sour look?” Margot scowled. “You’re not going to cancel on us, are you?”

  She glanced at the clock above the door. Jesse expected her in an hour. He’d understand, wouldn’t he? After all, it was her birthday. Why shouldn’t she have some fun, a little taste of the life she’d left behind?

  She chewed a knuckle. “I just wish you guys had given me a heads up.”

  “And spoil the surprise?” Olivia pulled a wrapped package from her backpack. “We even brought you something to wear.”

  “Guys, come on.” This was spinning out of control.

  “Shut up with your ‘I hate presents’ bullshit.” Impossible to be mad at Margot when she delivered her bossy zingers with a sweet smile. “Besides, we got it at a thrift shop, so it’s good for the environment, right?”

  “Yeah.” Sierra nodded, her arms folded over her low-cut sweater. “It’s virtuous repurposing of discarded goods.”

  “Open it, already.” Olivia tapped her booted foot.

  Pointless to argue, so she ripped the wrapping paper and pulled out a diaphanous, sparkly tunic in glorious peacock colors of sapphire, emerald, and amethyst.

  Her jaw dropped. “This. Is. Gorgeous.” She couldn’t wait to show Jesse.

  Oh. Shit. Jesse.

  “Gimme a minute.” She tried Jesse’s number, but it went to voicemail, so she left him a text.

  Friends surprised me for my birthday. Can I get a raincheck for tonight? We’ll stop by on our way to Portland.

  She almost added Love you but froze, her thumbs over the screen. A strange tingle danced across her skin. Do I love Jesse? Was that why her intuition lit up this morning?

  She shook her head. No, her friends’ surprise was the obvious answer. Sorting out her feelings for Jesse could wait twenty-four hours. Maybe some time with her girlfriends would give her perspective. She hit Send and tucked her phone into her pocket, trying to ignore the sharp pinch of guilt.

  Olivia, an artist who painted on huge canvases, had brought her Chevy van, and the girls had decked it out in Happy Birthday balloons and streamers. She hopped into the Magic Bus, as they’d christened it, and they headed for Zora’s place where Gemma changed into velvet leggings, tall boots, and her new glittery top.

  After greeting Gemma’s friends, Aunt Zora pulled her aside. “Honey, are you sure you want to do this? Breaking a date with someone who cares about you invites bad karma. Knowing Jesse, he’s probably gone to a lot of trouble.”

  Her aunt’s warning layered on another scoop of guilt. “As far as he knows, it’s just another Sunday night.” Gemma’s eyes narrowed. “Unless someone told him about my birthday.”

  Zora raised her hands, palms out. “Of course we didn’t. We respect your wishes. But still, Jesse’s going to be hurt.”

  She closed her eyes and blew out a shaky breath. Aunt Z was right, but what could she do? Her stomach twisted at the thought of disappointing Jesse, but if they had any hope of a future together, he had to understand how important friendship was to Gemma—especially these three who’d comforted her after Caleb said goodbye. Her friends were the family of her heart.

  All sparkled up for a night on the town, she climbed into Olivia’s van and directed them to Jesse’s farm. Still no reply to her text. He must have left his phone in the greenhouse or his pickup.

  “Mega cute,” Margot said as they rolled up the gravel drive. “Elmer would love this place. Lots of nature, lots of room.”

  “And look at that sweet little house!” Sierra pointed. “It’s like a Christmas card.”

  In fact, he’d strung fairy lights on the porch. What was that about?

  “Are you serious about this guy?” Olivia asked.

  “I mean, he’s got potential.” Understatement of the year.

  “Is that him?”

  Gemma followed Margot’s pointing finger to the herb greenhouse, where Jesse stood in the doorway, a wine bottle in his hand.

  “Uh oh. Looks like boyfriend had plans for you tonight,” Margot muttered. “Guys, we shoulda called.”

  “It’s okay.” No, it’s not. How am I going to explain? Pulse fluttering in near panic, Gemma opened the passenger door and stepped down. “Let me go talk to him.” She wrapped the cloak she’d borrowed from Zora around her shoulders and trotted toward him.

  “Hello, new boyfriend,” Sierra called, hanging half out of the van’s window and waving her long arms.

  “Shut it, Sisi,” Olivia hissed.

  Jesse stared at the spectacle, his jaw tight. When his gaze turned on her, hurt and confusion shone in his eyes. “What’s going on?”

  “I texted you. Didn’t you see my message?”

  He shook his head. “Reception’s spotty out here. And I’ve been busy.” He lifted the wine bottle.

  “Shit and double shit. Zora told you, didn’t she?”

  “Told me what?”

  “About my birthday. I asked her not to.”

  Salsa music blared from the van. The girls were starting the party without her.

  “Let’s go inside.” She stepped around him and into the greenhouse, then froze.

  Jesse had transformed the space from farm to fairyland. Flowers bloomed among the herbs and spilled from a crystal vase on a table set for two. Soft music played. Twinkle lights blinked overhead, and paper hearts fluttered in the gentle breeze from the ventilator fans. The whole scene was so romantic…

  Holy cats, is he going to propose? Her knees locked. Her vision swam.

  Jesse gripped her shoulders. His brows contracted. “Help me understand. Today is your birthday?”

  “Yeah.” Her chuckle sounded phony even to her own ears. “The big three-four.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “I, uh, don’t like to make a fuss. It’s just another day, right?”

  “Bullshit.” His harsh tone jerked her backwards.

  “Your birthday is important to me, Gemma. After all we’ve shared, you should have told me.” His wounded stare bored into her, turning her knees to water. Then he turned away.

  That’s when she spotted the gauzy cloth hung from the rear of the greenhouse, draped like a canopy over—oh goddess—an air mattress, piled high with pillows and a fake fur throw. He’d arranged a whole romantic scene, just for her.

  She clutched his arm. “Jesse, if you didn’t know about my birthday, what is this?”

  She didn’t like the deep crease between his brows, not one tiny bit.

  He closed his eyes and massaged his temples with one hand. “It’s for Valentine’s Day.”

  “Oh.” Her stomach bottomed out. Of course she knew about that mushy holiday. She’d decorated the shop in pink, red, and purple. She’d arranged a display of love potions and charms, books about attracting love and finding your perfect soulmate, pink crystals and red glass roses and all manner of lovey-dovey merchandise. But she hadn’t figured Jesse for the type to make a big romantic gesture.

  She swallowed a huge, spiky ball of regret that threatened to choke her. “Valentine’s Day isn’t until tomorrow, right?”

  “I wanted to surprise you.” His voice rasped, dry as the Sahara. “I’m trying to give you what you want, Gemma. New experiences. A change of scene. And you like the greenhouse so much, I thought you’d appreciate this.”

  Outside, one of the girls leaned on the horn.

  His sigh twisted her heart. “Looks like you’re not staying.”

  She clutched his arms. She had to make him understand. “Jesse, I’m so sorry. I hate making a fuss about my birthday, but my friends drove up from Eugene to surprise me. They’ve arranged a whole night out in Portland. Back in Oregon, whenever one of us was down, we’d go out dancing to cheer her up. They helped me through my breakup with Caleb, and—”

  From his blank expression, she might as well be talking to a wall.

  She grasped his hand. It lay lifeless in hers. “If I’d known, I would’ve told them to come another time. They meant well.”

  His expression hardened. “And you never thought I’d want to do something special with you on the day set aside for lovers?”

  “Damn it, that’s not fair, Jesse. If you’d told me, this never would’ve happened.” She sank onto her haunches and pressed a fist to her mouth. Tears blurred her vision. “Now, no matter what I do, I hurt someone I love.”

  “Love?” He snorted. “Really, Gemma? This is how you tell me?” He pitched his voice in a mocking falsetto. “Thanks for all the trouble, but I’ve gotta go clubbing. By the way, I love you. Byeee.”

  She’d never seen his temper before. It had teeth. How to fix this?

  “I’ll tell them to come back later. You and I can celebrate, then they can pick me in a few hours.”

  His only response, a dead-eyed stare.

  She sidled closer and toyed with his collar. “Really, they can wait. We could enjoy this beautiful scene, maybe fool around a little—”

  “With you impatient to leave? No thanks. Go on. Be with your friends.” He gave her his back, muttering, “Should’ve known this would never work.”

  “Jesse, be fair.” She tugged on his sleeve. “These women are like sisters to me, and I haven’t seen them in ages. They’d love to meet you. Come with us? It’ll be fun.”

  A knock on the door interrupted her pleading. It opened a crack, and three heads peeked through. “Gemma? You okay?”

  Jesse didn’t turn as he whispered, “Just go.”

  So she did, though it took her leaden feet a thousand years to trudge to the door. Outside the green oasis, icy wind slapped her face. Too late to turn back now. She’d hurt him. He didn’t want her anymore.

  Her expression grave, Sierra wound her long arm around Gemma’s shoulders. “Damn, did we screw things up with your new guy?”

  Margot hugged her from behind. “Listen, we can go to Portland another time. Go back to him.”

  Olivia joined the huddle, tucking her chin onto Gemma’s shoulder. “If he cares for you, he won’t be jealous of your friends. That’s a red flag, babe.”

 

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