CHAPTER 39: MORE THAN A DREAM

"Do you like him?"

The words slipped out before JD could stop them.

Joanne barely registered the question, too absorbed in the message she was typing. A small smile tugged at her lips as she thought about Charlotte, that fiery little girl, and how adorable she’d look in a new dress.

[I’ll be delighted to. I’ll come get Charlotte at 10.]

She hit send.

JD’s stomach twisted.

He knew it was irrational. He had spent days telling himself to step back, to let her be happy with someone who could give her stability, a future, a life that wasn’t tangled up in uncertainty.

But knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less.

"You were saying?" Joanne finally looked up at him, her tone absentminded.

JD forced himself to shake his head. "Nothing."

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

Joanne blinked, caught off guard by his abrupt departure. Her brows knitted together as she watched his retreating back. She didn’t understand why, but something about it didn’t sit right.

And she couldn’t just let it go.

"Wait—" she called, quickening her pace to catch up. "You asked me something. What was it?"

JD didn’t answer.

He reached the door, his fingers brushing the knob when she stepped in front of him, blocking his way.

JD hesitated.

He could easily sidestep her, but instead, he tried to reach past her. In doing so, he leaned in slightly—too close.

His breath hitched.

Her face was right there.

Joanne’s pulse pounded in her ears. She hadn’t expected him to get this close, hadn’t expected the warmth radiating off of him, the way his scent—clean, woodsy, and something undeniably him—wrapped around her senses.

She should have moved.

But she didn’t.

And neither did he.

JD’s eyes flickered downward, landing on her lips for the briefest moment before he quickly averted his gaze.

"Are you going to move?" His voice was quiet, rougher than usual.

"Not until you answer me."

JD clenched his jaw. He still wouldn’t look at her, and Joanne found herself studying him instead. The sharp cut of his jawline. The slope of his nose—straight, well-defined. His thick, straight brows, always drawn together in deep thought.

And his eyes.

God, his eyes.

Oval-shaped, dark and intense, holding emotions he refused to say out loud.

Her gaze dropped lower.

His lips—full, perfectly shaped, soft-looking.

David Beckham. That’s who he reminded her of. But no, that wasn’t quite right. JD’s eyes were better.

She swallowed.

Then—

A flash of something.

A memory.

His lips. Glistening in dim light. Closer, closer.

A whisper of breath against her skin.

A tingling sensation that spread, warmth curling in her stomach, making her chest tighten.

She remembered going lightheaded, struggling to breathe—

Longing for more.

Joanne’s breath caught.

Wait—

Was that a dream?

Or did it happen?

JD’s fingers twitched on the doorknob.

She wasn’t moving.

She was standing her ground, staring at him, waiting—no, demanding—an answer.

And God help him, he couldn’t think straight with her this close.

Joanne had always been beautiful, but now? Now she was right there, her scent intoxicating, her lips slightly parted as she looked up at him. Her eyes—bright, searching, curious—locked onto his, then flickered downward.

JD’s breath hitched when he realized she was staring at his mouth.

His heart slammed against his ribs.

He clenched his jaw and averted his gaze, but that only made it worse. His peripheral vision caught the softness of her skin, the way her chest rose and fell in anticipation.

This was dangerous.

She was dangerous.

And the way her eyes darkened—like she had just remembered something—made him feel like he was standing on the edge of a cliff.

Her fingers twitched, like she wanted to reach for him.

JD swallowed hard.

His mind screamed at him to step back, to get away before he did something stupid.

But then she spoke.

"...Wait."

Her voice was soft, hesitant.

Her brows furrowed slightly, as if she were struggling to piece something together.

He braced himself.

And then—

"...Was that a dream?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "Or... did it happen?"

JD’s entire body went rigid.

He sucked in a sharp breath.

His fingers tightened around the doorknob, his knuckles turning white.

And then, as if against his will, his eyes met hers again.

She knew.

She remembered.

Shit.

That night, he should have left.

She had been out of it—feverish, dazed, barely aware of her surroundings. Patrick had handed him a bowl of soup and left with a pat on the shoulder, trusting him to make sure she ate.

JD had done just that.

He had sat beside her, carefully lifting her up so she wouldn’t choke as he brought the spoon to her lips. She had been compliant in his hands, her body warm from the fever, her breath soft and shallow.

She had taken a few sips before a slight tremor in her fingers made her slip. A trickle of warm broth slid down her chin, staining the neckline of her slip.

JD didn’t think. He acted.

Grabbing a napkin, he reached forward to wipe it away—just a simple, thoughtless gesture. But the moment the cloth touched her skin, everything changed.

Her breath hitched.

His hand stilled.

The silk of her slip clung to her fevered skin, the damp spot just above the curve of her breast darkening slightly. His pulse slammed in his ears as he realized where his fingers hovered, barely a whisper away from touching her.

He should have pulled back.

But then—

She looked at him.

Not hazy. Not confused.

Aware.

JD swallowed, hard. His throat was dry, his body suddenly wired too tight. His hand, the one holding the napkin, hovered there for a second too long.

And then she moved.

Not much. Just a slight shift, a small tilt of her head—but it was enough. Enough for her lips to brush against the inside of his wrist. Soft. Warm. Unintended.

A wildfire ignited under his skin.

JD sucked in a sharp breath.

She was looking at him like she could feel it too—the charge in the air, the unspoken tension, the magnetic pull between them that had always been there but never this dangerous.

His fingers curled.

Her pulse fluttered against his wrist, delicate and fast.

And then she whispered his name. Barely audible, yet it unraveled him.

Jeffrey...

Her whisper was a stark contrast to the feigned anger she used when playfully scolding her horse.

No.

It carried a softness, an intimate warmth that wrapped around him like a gentle embrace. The way she spoke his name was laced with so much tenderness that it left him breathless—almost daring to call it love, if he were bold enough to acknowledge it.

In that moment, the world faded, leaving just the two of them, connected beyond words.

JD was lost.

He leaned in, his breath fanning against her cheek as his nose grazed her temple. His lips hovered just over her skin, waiting—giving her a chance to pull away.