Blue eyes settle on me, and I momentarily forget that I’m irritated.

“Why do you want to know about me and Corey?”

He shrugs. “Just curious.” His gaze slides down the violet tunic shirt that clings to my frame and my black leggings below. The look on his face is unreadable, and yet it makes my pulse quicken all the same.

I sigh heavily and try a more civilized approach. “Jonah, can I please have my stuff—”

“No.” There’s no hesitation, no teasing inflection anymore.

“Fine,” I say curtly. “I’ll have fun trashing your house until I find it.” Because he can’t stay home all day.

I move to march past him, but he stops me with a swift hand on my side, and then his other hand on my other side, gripping me tightly as he herds me backward, until I feel the cool wall through the back of my shirt.

My hands fly up between us instinctively to press against his chest, unsure of exactly what’s happening, my mind not registering much beyond how solid and warm his body is, how my palms curve around ridges.

Not until I dare look up, not until I see just how dark and intense his eyes have turned, do I begin to see it.

This newly found attraction might not be one-sided after all.

One . . . two . . . three beats hang as we seem to silently measure each other, as I struggle to grasp exactly how this has happened.

And then Jonah leans down and skates his mouth across mine, in a kiss softer than I could ever imagine him capable of. His lips taste like mint toothpaste and the brown sugar from my oatmeal, and the soft, freshly cut hair of his beard tickles my skin in an oddly intimate way.

I can’t breathe.

He pauses, and then makes a second pass. He’s testing me to see how I’ll respond.

“I thought you didn’t like my kind,” I whisper, my fingers too timid to venture over this massive canvas of chest.

He loosens his death grip on my waist, letting one hand drop to curl around my hip while the other smooths upward, over my back and shoulder blades, to wrap around my nape. His fingers thread through my hair, pulling at it gently, forcing my head back. “I guess I was wrong,” he admits, in a voice so deep and husky that I feel it in the depths of my belly.

And then he’s kissing me without hesitation, his mouth coaxing mine open, his tongue sliding against mine, his breaths melding with mine. Blood rushes to my ears as my heart pounds with an intoxicating, addicting thrill I haven’t felt coursing through my limbs in forever. Heat floods right to my core.

I’m vaguely aware of footfalls pounding up the steps outside, and then Mabel’s loud, excited voice calls out, “Calla? Are you ready?”

Jonah peels away and takes a step back, letting out a soft, shaky breath as he goes. It’s the first and only sign that I might be affecting him as much as he is affecting me.

“Hey!” Mabel stands in the hallway, dripping water from her canary-yellow rain slicker onto the floor, her wide-eyed gaze flickering back and forth between us. “What are you guys doing?”

“Umm . . . We’re . . .” I stutter. Is she too young to sense the tension in the air? To figure out what she just interrupted?

“I’m just giving Calla something she needs,” Jonah says, back to his normal, cool self, though with a hint of amusement in his voice.

I turn to stare at him, momentarily speechless. Well, if Mabel hasn’t already picked up on it . . .

With a knowing smirk, he reaches into his back pocket and pulls something out. “Here.” He tosses it in the air and I fumble to catch it. It’s my antiperspirant stick. “See? I’m not a complete dick.” He strolls away, playfully mussing Mabel’s hair on his way past. Moments later, the door closes with a thud.

Mabel’s face crinkles up. “Jonah bought you deodorant?”

I’m too overwhelmed to try and explain any of this. “What do I need to bring with me?” I ask, ignoring her question.

“Just yourself! I’ve got you covered.” She grins and holds up her arms. A yellow slicker dangles from one hand and a stack of baskets sits in the other.

“Perfect.” A morning of picking berries in the cold rain with a bunch of strangers is probably the best thing I can do right now, while I try to sort out what the hell just happened between Jonah and me.

And whether I want it to happen again.

Chapter 20

“Max has his heart set on ‘Thornton,’ after his grandfather.” Sharon’s lip curls in an unpleasant way.

I shrug. “It could be Thor, for short? That’s a cool name. Unique.”

“Except his mother would refuse to shorten it. Everything would be ‘Thornton’ this and ‘Thornton’ that.” She rolls her eyes. “I’ve given up a lot, already, being here and all. I am not naming my son Thornton.”

“I don’t blame you,” I mock-whisper. “Where are you moving to, anyway?”

“Back to Portland, Oregon. I can’t believe I’ll be home soon.” Sharon’s hand smooths over her belly in a slow, circular motion while the other reaches for another blueberry from the basket Mabel and I brought to the airport. After several hours of crouching in drizzle among an endless stretch of prickly bushes, my thigh muscles are still burning and I haven’t been able to shake this cold-to-the-bone chill. “I still remember the day Max came home three years ago and said, ‘Babe, guess what? I got the job! We’re movin’ to Alaska!’ I didn’t even know he’d applied.” She chuckles, shaking her head. “Don’t get me wrong, we’re going to miss the people like crazy, but everything is so hard up here. And now we’re going to have a baby to add to it.”