Jackson turned his glass in his hands. Past and present were poised to collide, but he wasn't ready for Rose to leave—not when they were finally finding common ground. He bit his lip nervously. Surely, Denny and Dally would understand if he asked them to keep a secret.

"Jackson!" hollered one of the twins. "Get your ass down here and help."

Denny burst into the kitchen carrying an armful of paper grocery bags, stopping short when he saw Rose. Dally bumped into him from behind.

Denny grinned. "I didn't realize we had a visitor."

He deposited his bags on the island, followed by Dally, and they crowded around Rose and shook her hand.

"I hear you're the mayor, now," said Denny. "Is it true?"

She ducked her head, looking shy. "Yes, I am. Denman, right?"

He smiled at her. "You bet. Good to see you again. You remember Dalton."

Dally pushed his glasses up on his nose and leaned against the island, folding his arms and peering at her curiously. "Hi, Rose. To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"

Jackson inhaled sharply, unsure what to say—or what Rose might give away—before he huffed lightly through his nose, amazed at his own hubris. He was getting ahead of himself. There was nothing to tell.

Rose simply shrugged and gestured to her glass. "Long day at the office."

Denny looked at Jackson pointedly. "At least someone works around here. Jackson's been moping around the house by himself for days. At least now he can mope with company."

Jackson suppressed a groan. "Give me a break."

Denny chuckled and addressed Rose. "Don't mind Jackson. He gets testy when he hasn't eaten. Jackson, why don't you fire up the barbeque. Rose, you'll stay for dinner, won't you?"

She looked at Jackson. He forced himself to smile encouragingly. He wasn't about to kick her out of the house just because of his brothers, though it was tempting to shuttle her away from Denny's prying eyes. He gestured toward the patio door before Denny could say anything else.

"Join me outside—uh, Rose?" He stumbled over her name, but it wouldn't do to call her pet names around the twins, who might let something slip to Dad. "I could use a hand."

Denny chuckled. "That's the truth. Why don't you make sure Red here doesn't blow his fingers off while me and Dalton unpack the groceries?"

Jackson grimaced and rounded the island so he could steer Rose away from his brothers. He ushered her outside and onto the back porch. Outside, the air was warm and humid, and the lawn beyond the deck's edge was still glistening from the morning's rain. Jackson took a steadying breath. It was a relief to be away from Denny's jibes.

"Sorry about them," he muttered.

"Oh, they seem friendly enough."

Jackson rolled his eyes. "To you, maybe." He strode over to the massive barbeque and tugged it into the centre of the deck. "They like to get a rise out of me whenever they can."

With his back to Rose, he opened the barbeque and surveyed the grill, then turned one of the dials. Rose stood beside him with her arms folded.

"I wonder when this thing was last used," he said, frowning.

"I don't think propane goes bad." She bent and opened the valve on the propane tank. "You may want to turn this on."

Heat rose in Jackson's face. "Thanks."

She bumped his shoulder with hers. "Do you want me to do this?"

"Could you?" Jackson chuckled. "I promise you my masculinity is not threatened by your prowess with a grill."

Rose smiled. "Right. I forgot you were a big city boy. Around here, barbequing is like a church."

While Rose fiddled with the dials, Jackson stepped back and watched. She made something click, and the grill flared to life. As the flames strengthened and licked the metal grate, she closed the hood on the barbeque, then turned to him.

"We'll just let that heat up."

He smiled at her. "Thanks. Do you want to—"

Before he could ask her to walk with him down to the creek, Denny poked his head through the patio door.

"Who wants to pound some poultry?" Denny boomed. "That's not a euphemism. We're having chicken."

Jackson's mouth tightened in irritation. There was so much to say to Rose. The words were crowding his brain, champing to be released—an explanation for all the years that had gone by, for the way he had left her, for the way he was sorry. But it wasn't the right time. Rose started toward the door, beckoning for him to follow before slipping inside. Jackson glared at Denny, who shrugged as he retreated into the kitchen, leaving the door ajar. Sighing, Jackson followed.

The twins had bought the makings of souvlaki. As Denny and Dally peeled and chopped potatoes on the island, Rose busied herself with the chicken at the counter, and Jackson stood with his hands in his pockets, feeling useless.

"Jackson," Rose said over her shoulder. "Could you turn on the water? I need an extra set of hands."

He joined her by the sink, and their shoulders brushed. The incidental touch sent a shock through his body that started in his arm and ended somewhere around his toes. He took a deep breath and willed his hands not to shake.

Denny mused from behind him, "Rose, I don't know if you know this, but Jackson is a pretty good cook."

"That's not true," Jackson muttered. "Don't listen to a word he says."

Rose nudged his side gently with her elbow, sending another spark of electricity through his veins. Jackson shook his head, willing Denny not to say anything embarrassing. Denny ducked his head and snorted back laughter.

"Don't be bashful." Denny raised his voice. "Rose, don't let him fool you. He knows his way around a kitchen. But he's a bachelor, so he only knows how to cook for one."

Rose was clearly suppressing a smile. As she turned toward the sink, Jackson turned on the water and tested the temperature with his fingers. He pumped a dollop of soap into her palm. As Rose rinsed her hands, he leaned his lower back against the counter's edge and returned to silently willing Denny to shut his mouth. Denny's smile was vicious and gleeful.

"Anyway," Denny said, his voice brimming with calculated humour, "I figure it's time Jackson learned how to cook for two. What do you say, Red?"

Jackson glared at his brother. "Very funny."

Denny snickered. "Oh, come on. Cooking for one is so lonely. Maybe you should try your hand at cooking for a family."

Jackson rolled his eyes, his cheeks heating.

"Ha, ha," he said dryly to his brothers before turning to Rose. "I'm starting to envy you, you know. Having a sister instead of these clowns."

Rose chuckled. "I don't know about that. Lily is almost as bad."

Denny came around the island and slung his arm over Jackson's shoulder. "I'm just playing with you, Red. You know how I love to make you blush to match your hair."

Jackson elbowed him in the ribs. Heat buzzed in his cheeks like a swarm of bees. Denny ruffled his hair, snickering.

At the island, Dally's voice was laced with pity. "Jackson, why don't you entertain Rose while Denman and I do the rest? We can take it from here."

Jackson almost wilted with gratitude. Dally always knew not to take things too far.

"I suppose Dalton is right." Denny gave him a push. "You should show Rose around."

Jackson looked at Rose. "I don't want to bore you to death."

"Actually, it's been a while," she said. "I could use a tour."

Denny piped up. "Then it's a date. We'll call you when dinner's ready."

Jackson glowered at him as he passed.

***

Rose couldn't help the smile that curved her lips as she followed Jackson. He was blushing so hard his ears were red. The good-natured ribbing between him and his brothers was endearing. Although he was obviously embarrassed, it was clear they loved each other fiercely.

"Siblings, hey?" she said as she caught up to him in the wide hallway that led back to the foyer. "What would we do without them?"

Jackson glanced at her. "Well, I would have spent far less time locked in closets as a kid, I can tell you that much."

She laughed. "Right. The youngest. Must have been a pain."

"Well, they were a lot bigger than me. It was always Denny and Dally against the world, but we get along great now." He paused. "Most of the time."

They entered the foyer where the grand staircase curved up toward the second level.

"Come on," he said. "I'll show you the old homestead."

As they mounted the steps side-by-side, Jackson put his hand under her arm as though to guide her. It was a warm, familiar gesture, much like when he'd helped her up the stairs at the Trib. The contact made Rose's stomach flutter.

As they topped the stairs, Jackson dropped his hand. The absence of his touch was like a vacuum, and Rose's thoughts rushed in to fill the void. Suddenly, she wondered if he was like this with all women. She glanced at him obliquely. He caught her gaze and smiled. Her face flushed hotly. His smile was dazzling.

Jackson swept his arm through the air. "You remember the upstairs? Mostly bedrooms." He stopped outside a room and poked his head in. "I would turn one into a gym if it were up to me. Who has this much company? Honestly, I'd forgotten how big the Creek House is."

Rose peered into the bedroom. A stately, king-sized bed took up much of the room, and the dark-paneled walls were obscured by wall hangings. With the heavy curtains open, afternoon sunlight streamed into the room. She could see the land rolling away from the house through the window.

"Isn't this where your nanny used to sleep?" she asked as she withdrew.

Jackson nodded. "One of them. If you'll recall, it took a village to raise the McBride boys."

"I remember. You guys had a whole entourage."

"It was overkill," he said dryly, then his voice dropped. "I think maybe Dad thought we needed a whole staff to replace Mom. You know, while he shunted us off on Dogwood so he could work all summer."

Rose cocked her head. "I thought you liked coming here."

He shook himself and smiled, but his shoulders drooped. "Of course, I did. But I missed him when I was here. I always felt like I was split in two, no matter where I was in the world. There was Dad, and then there was...you."

A lump of emotion lodged in Rose's throat. "You never told me you felt that way."

Jackson looked down. "Yeah, well. I didn't want to admit that I missed him."

She studied him. He tucked a lock of copper hair behind his ear and licked his lips.

"Rosie..." He trailed off, then fixed her with a gaze that tried to be bright and cheery but failed. "Hey, do you remember my room? You'll love it. Trust me."

He took her hand and led her down the hall to the last room on the left. As he paused in the doorway, he squeezed her hand tighter. Her heart skipped a beat, falling over itself to keep up with the rush of blood in her ears.

"Check it out," he said with a grin. "Nothing has changed."

Rose tore her gaze away from his profile and searched the bedroom. A smile tugged at her lips. He was right; the room was much the same as it had been when they were kids. Band posters littered the walls, and there was a Star Wars blanket on the unmade bed. She laughed and tugged him into the space.

"This is like a time capsule," she said. "Did you always have a lava lamp?"

"I really did."

"I don't remember that." Her breath hitched, and she looked down at their clasped hands, suddenly shy. "We never spent a lot of time up here. We were always outside. But I guess no one had to encourage us too hard to get out of the house. We were like wild things, tromping all over the grounds."

Jackson chuckled. "Actually, I think maybe the nannies were more concerned about us spending too much time alone in my room."

A blush crept into Rose's cheeks. "I never thought of it that way."

"Of course, you didn't." His voice softened. "You didn't notice me like that until...later."

She took a deep breath that made her chest tremble, her heart pounding. "That's not true."

He ducked his head and caught her eye, and his voice was a whisper. "Rosie—"

One of the twins hollered up the stairs. Rose couldn't tell which one it was.

"Hey, kids. Dinner's almost ready!"

Probably Denman.

Rose looked up at Jackson, her lips parted on the edge of speech. He raised their clasped hands and pressed them against his chest. She inhaled sharply and held her breath, her blood rushing in her ears. The plane of his muscular chest was warm against the back of her hand. She could feel his heartbeat, up-tempo and strong.

"I guess we're still not allowed to be alone in my room," he said with a wry smile.

She laughed breathlessly. "I—I guess not."

He tilted his head toward the door. "Shall we?"

Rose nodded, not trusting herself to speak. As Jackson led her out of the room, she let out a bated breath. They strode down the hall together, hand in hand. As they reached the top of the staircase, he let go of her, then brushed his fingers against her arm, the look on his face almost regretful.

She blinked at him, dizzied by the electric spark that charged the air between them, then grasped the handrail and started down the stairs on legs that wobbled.

He was like a beacon. She was aware of him, of his movements and mood, his closeness. As he descended the steps beside her, his hand flexed against his thigh, and she caught herself before she sighed. She wanted him to touch her again, to feel that frisson of energy dance over her skin.

As they entered the kitchen, he broke away from her, striding forward to help Denman set the table. Rose hung back, lingering by the island, watching him move. As he set down a knife, he glanced at her, his eyes warm as a sun-kissed sky. He smiled a small smile.

"That's not where the knives go," Denman interjected. "Jesus, man, who taught you how to set a table?"

Jackson looked away as Denman shouldered him aside and rearranged the cutlery. While they argued over the place setting, Rose clasped her hands and leaned on the island. Jackson's touch lingered on her fingertips, the pad of her thumb, the back of her hand. Her upper arm tingled. She felt marked, as though she were a canvas he'd painted with his hands.

She felt lost. For fourteen years, she had remembered him as the callous boy who had broken her heart. But there was a familiarity to this side of Jackson, to this softness in him, this man who held her hand and pressed it to his heart—this was the boy she'd fallen in love with under the treehouse. Tears pricked Rose's eyes, and she looked down at her hands as she blinked them away. She didn't know what to make of it.

"I hope you brought your appetite, Rose," said Dalton as he came inside with a steaming plate of souvlaki. "We made enough to feed a small army."

Rose lifted her chin and smiled. "I sure did. I'm starving."

Dalton set the plate down in the centre of the table. "Good. We're so glad you joined us."

She looked at Jackson. "Me, too."