“I haven’t been bribed with ice cream since I was seven, but I guess I’ll agree to anything if it means you’re taking me out on another date.”
She pushed back a strand of hair that had fallen in her face. The move was cute, the slightly disheveled look suddenly doing all sorts of good things for her. Something inside his chest gave a little twist, something he tried to ignore as best he could. It didn’t work all that well, not even when she took the opportunity to throw out another insult.
“You asked me last night, and going out for coffee doesn’t count as a date. Neither does ice cream. And besides, we’re only going if you finish on time.” She glanced at everything he still held in his hands. “And right now, it’s not looking real good for you.”
He looked down, then back up at her. If he calculated right, he had nearly thirteen minutes left before time ran out. And he was Jack Vaughn.
Jack Vaughn never backed down from a challenge, especially not one thrown down by the most interesting girl he’d been around in years.
Nine minutes. Nine minutes, and he’d finished filling every last cup. Meanwhile, she had managed to complete less than half his total and still had to return to the reception hall to finish them before the rehearsal started in three hours. Not to mention she still wore the gym shorts and the tank she’d pulled on in a rush first thing this morning, her hair was still knotted at the back of her head, and she wasn’t wearing a stitch of makeup. She was a mess walking next to Jack in his perfectly manicured wedding rehearsal outfit.
“You have ice cream on your chin.”
And this lovely observation only confirmed it. April frowned and rubbed the ice cream away.
“Did I get it all?” she asked.
He tilted his head and studied her. “The vanilla, yes. But you still have a chocolate chip stuck to your cheek.” Before she knew what was happening, Jack reached out and brushed it away, the warmth of his fingertip staying behind long after contact had been broken. April willed her heart to settle and stared straight ahead, reminding herself to take one step and then another, one step and then another. It was the only way to make sure she wouldn’t trip and fall over her own feet, which currently felt like unset Jell-O shaking in a bowl of mixed-up nerves.
“I shouldn’t be allowed to go out in public,” she said. Beside her, Jack laughed.
“Every time I wear a white shirt—every single time, I’m not kidding—I drop something on it. Coffee. Chocolate cake. Once even a Sharpie when I was trying to write my own name. So I know what you mean. The affliction affects me too. Has since I was a kid.”
April couldn’t help the grin that stole over her face. “You know, you’ll be wearing a white shirt tomorrow night at the wedding. I’ll hate to see what you look like at the end of the night.”
Jack opened the car door for her and she climbed inside. For just a moment, he rested one arm on the passenger door and peered down at her. “Something tells me you wouldn’t hate it at all. Something tells me you’re secretly hoping I’ll be covered in filth before I even climb up onstage.”
“Busted. Although in my defense, seeing you a complete mess might be a good way to get Kristin to loosen up a little. Maybe I’ll do the same with my dress. Smear a little chocolate on it. Add a few rips to the hem. Who knows? We could start a hot new trend.” April smiled at her lap. “And then, of course, seeing you that way might ultimately help make me feel better.”
Jack stepped back. “Come on, April. You told me to get creative. To think of something to make everything up to you. Surely you think I can do better than that. And speaking of what we’re wearing, what color is your dress?”
It was the way he said it. It was the way he said it coupled with the excited gleam in his eye. That’s what began April’s unraveling, one tiny thread at a time. Jack had something planned. Jack had taken her words to heart and had actually begun to work on them. And as he stepped back and closed the car door, then took his time walking around to the driver’s side, the feeling stayed with her.
Jack Vaughn had a plan. Which could only mean one thing. Jack cared about her. At least a little.
“It’s yellow. My dress is yellow.”
April couldn’t keep the smile off her face the whole way home.
Jack slipped his arms through his tuxedo jacket and studied himself in the mirror. He hadn’t worn one of these straightjackets since prom, foregoing them even at awards ceremonies and other friends’ weddings in favor of tailored jackets, expensive tees, and black Converse. He was a musician; he could get away with anything and call it artistic expression.