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I inwardly cringe again at the theme of the card and gift I chose. “Was I supposed to?”

As he tears the envelope open, he turns the card over, and his shoulders begin to shake. “No, and this is way better than a soppy card. I love it.”

I stare down at the crown-wearing British bulldog. At the time, I thought it was cute, and now, not so much.

Walking over to the kitchen island, he sets the card on the side and then begins tearing at the paper as he makes his way back over to me.

“Kendra, these are awesome.” He opens the box of Union Jack coasters and begins taking them out; each one is in a different color.

He’s about to toss the paper in the trash when I hurry over and stop him.

“Wait, there’s something else tucked inside.”

Tearing the paper open further, he pulls out a twenty-dollar gift card for Rise Up.

My cheeks flush again. Jesus. I’m also twenty-three next Sunday not sixteen.

Jack shakes his head as his eyes find mine. With my back against the countertop, his close proximity would easily allow him to take a single small step, and his body would be pressing into mine.

The flutters make a return, but this time, they’re joined by a tingling in my core.

Several beats pass between us as I wait to see what he’ll do next.

“Thank you, Kendra. This is probably one of the most thoughtful gifts I’ve ever gotten.”

The second his soft, full lips find my right cheekbone, my eyelids flutter closed.

“You ready for me to take you out?” he whispers against my skin, his breath and cologne firing off sparks all over my body.

I can’t help the whimper as it emanates from my throat. “Yeah, sure.”

As Jack pulls away, the darkness in his eyes—the same as on the night he returned from Colorado—is unmissable as he reaches up and runs a hand through his hair.

“Okay, Hart. First stop, breakfast, then the boutiques.”

I feltsure I’d find something in this store. The first two places we’d tried had nothing that suited my curvy and muscular figure. That’s the one drawback with being an athlete—trying to squeeze my quads into tight-fitting dresses.

I unzip the latest dress before I even pulled it up fully, and the black gown pools around my feet. I picked out six different options here, but again, nothing looks or feels right.

“Everything okay?” Jack asks from where he’s been patiently waiting for the past half hour. Just like he has in the previous two stores.

“Ugh.” I huff out a breath and step out of the gown before picking it up and hanging it back on the rail. “Nothing works in here either. Maybe we should just give up and go for lunch or something.”

“Then what will you wear on Saturday?”

“I don’t know,” I reply with a frustrated breath. “My robe.”

I’ve got one leg in my jeans when the curtain behind me moves.

“Could you do me a favor and try this one on?” Jack’s voice sounds a touch nervous, and he pokes a light-olive satin dress through to me.

I look back at the rack of dresses I picked out—three ofthem black, one light blue, and two more in a baby pink. “Green?”

“Matches your nails. Plus—I dunno—I saw it on the model out front, and I immediately thought …” He pauses, and the dress slowly withdraws.

“Let me try it. Nothing to lose, right?” I say, stopping him from taking it back and immediately pulling it off the hanger, ready to try it on.

“Jack?” I say, my jaw agape as I twist and turn in the surrounding mirrors.