He’d memorized the way her soft skin felt under his fingers. He could easily recall the way her lips had moved against his. He could still smell her warm vanilla scent, but he knew everything about this fantasy was wrong. What if he’d mistaken his feelings for her? Had he taken advantage of her? How could he have been so careless? And yet, how could he not? The only thing he wanted was the chance to kiss her again. He wasn’t lying when he wrote those words on the paper heart. She did make him want to live again, in a way that he hadn’t since months before Gwen died. But admitting that, remembering that, made him feel like a jerk. What kind of man tires of taking care of the woman he loves? Jacob pulled into the driveway, mad at himself for buying that stupid building in the first place. He could’ve been up and running if he’d just settled on the space in the new mall on Dover Parkway. And he wouldn’t be distracted by this Abigail Pressman business. Before he turned his lights off, he caught movement up by the old shed.
