Page 17 of Sweet Deal (Honeysuckle, Texas #4)

The Sweet kitchen hummed with its usual evening chaos—a symphony of sizzling pans, clattering plates, and overlapping conversations.

Hours had passed since the terrifying incident at the Benson apartment, hours filled with police reports, concerned check-ins with Kathy, and a quiet, almost numb drive back to the ranch with Jim.

Now, Rachel stood at the counter slicing tomatoes, the familiar rhythms of dinner preparation a welcome anchor after the day she’d had.

“Pass the salt?” her mom called from the stove, barely looking up from the sauce she was stirring.

Jim, who had somehow been seamlessly absorbed into the family’s cooking routine, reached for the shaker and handed it over, his fingers brushing Rachel’s arm as he moved past her.

The brief contact sent a warm flutter down her spine, a reaction that had nothing to do with the day’s adrenaline and everything to do with the man himself.

She’d given a brief, sanitized version of the day to her family—a difficult case, a teen in crisis, resolved safely—and left it at that.

No one else in this busy kitchen knew what they’d experienced hours earlier—the terrifying moments on that ledge, the desperate relief of safety, the kiss that had changed everything.

Stepping aside, Jim leaned against the counter, not saying much, but every few minutes, his eyes would find hers across the busy kitchen, reminding her of his earlier unwavering support.

Not just his physical presence at the Benson home, standing as a silent guard, but the absolute, unquestioning belief he’d shown in her ability to handle Michael—it had been a lifeline.

“Earth to Rachel.” Jillian nudged her with an elbow. “You’re butchering that poor tomato.”

Rachel glanced down, realizing she’d been mindlessly slicing the same spot. “Sorry.” She readjusted her grip on the knife, pretending not to notice the way Jim smiled at her sister calling her out on her distraction.

“Rachel, honey, can you grab another can of diced tomatoes from the pantry?” Her mother waved toward the far corner of the kitchen. “Maybe two.”

“Sure.” She set down the knife and headed toward the spacious walk-in pantry that the family joked held enough food to support half the town if Armageddon struck. Flipping on the light, she scanned the shelves, quickly spotting the tomato section.

“Need help finding something?”

The soft creak of the pantry door opening behind her made her jump slightly. She turned to find Jim in the doorway, his tall frame nearly filling the space. Holding up a can, she shook her head.

He stepped inside, closing the door partway behind him. “I…I wanted a minute alone with you. This seemed like my best chance.”

The pantry suddenly felt much smaller, the air between them charged with unspoken words. Rachel set the can down on a shelf, her pulse quickening.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low, meant only for her.

She managed a small nod, her throat suddenly tight. “Yeah. Just… processing.”

The space suddenly felt charged, electric. “About earlier…” he began, his voice even rougher than before.

She knew he wasn’t talking about Michael, or the ledge, or the police. Her own heart began to hammer a frantic rhythm against her ribs. “I was okay, Jim. Really. You didn’t need to worry.”

Jim stepped closer, the space between them narrowing to inches. “It didn’t worry me. It terrified me. Not because I doubted you,” his gaze dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes, “because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”

“Oh.” Her heartbeat just a little faster, her mouth went suddenly dry, and try as she might, words simply didn’t come.

His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from her face, the gesture achingly tender.

Rachel leaned into his touch, her eyes closing briefly.

“About earlier. The kiss.”

“I understand.” Her eyes opened to meet his. “People do unlikely things in stressful situations.”

“Or when they’re in love.”

Her breath caught. “When what?”

“When they’re in love,” Jim repeated, more firmly this time. His gaze remained locked with hers. “I didn’t kiss you because of the stress or the relief or any of that. I kissed you because I’m in love with you.”

The vulnerability in his eyes undid her. All these weeks of careful distance, of reminding herself that this wasn’t real, that his heart belonged elsewhere—and he’d been falling just as surely as she had.

“Funny thing,” she tried to keep her tone light, “it seems that I’ve fallen in love with you too.”

A smile pulled at his lips. “Funny.” He lowered his head, his lips hovering a breath away from hers. “It’s always been you, Rach. Only you.”

Just like earlier, his mouth pressed hard against hers, and every nerve in her body came to life.

The sound of a throat clearing filled the space, breaking them apart. Jillian stood in the pantry doorway, one eyebrow raised, a smirk playing at her lips. “Mom sent me to find out what was taking so long.”

Rachel felt a blush rise to her cheeks, but she didn’t pull away from Jim. “We were just…”

“Right.” Still grinning, Jillian shook her head, reached around them to grab two cans of tomatoes, and without another word, returned to the kitchen.

Both Rachel and Jim burst into giggles.

“I guess we’d better get back to dinner.” Rachel forced herself to take a step in retreat.

“Right.” He nodded. “Dinner.”

Her cheeks tugged at her lips, her smiling stretching across her face. “And then… dessert.”

Fingers threaded, they strolled out of the pantry. Life was about to get a whole lot sweeter.

All Jim could think was what a difference a day made. The bathroom door, which had previously represented a carefully negotiated boundary, now creaked open and closed with an easy familiarity.

Rachel moved about the room, her earlier tension replaced by a soft, contented glow that made his chest ache in the best possible way.

She hummed a little tune as she brushed her hair, the lamplight catching the silver in her pearl earrings—the same ones she’d worn that morning, an eternity ago, before their world had tilted, then righted itself in a way he still couldn’t quite believe.

Taking his turn in the bathroom, he changed into his usual pajama pants and tugged the t-shirt on as he walked back into the room.

Glancing his way as she pulled back the covers on her side of the bed, Rachel’s eyes fell on the angry bruises surrounding his battered ribs. “Still sore?”

“Barely feel it,” he lied. Watching her climb into her side of the bed, it struck him how quickly they’d established these small rituals, how easily they’d carved out space in each other’s lives. Only tonight felt different—no more pretending, no more walls between them.

As they climbed in, instead of the usual careful retreat to their respective edges, a silent, mutual understanding drew them towards the middle.

He settled onto his back, and without a word, Rachel turned onto her side, her head finding the curve of his good shoulder, her arm draping lightly across his chest. Her hair, smelling faintly of wildflowers, tickled his chin.

He instinctively tightened his arm around her, pulling her closer, breathing in her scent.

This felt… right. Impossibly, wonderfully right.

“You’re quiet,” she murmured, her breath soft against his neck.

“Just thinking,” he admitted. All through dinner, washing dishes, the casual family conversation afterward, his mind had been racing, filled with possibilities he’d never considered before today.

“About?”

His fingers traced idle patterns along her arm, marveling at the softness of her skin, the easy intimacy they’d fallen into. How had he ever imagined this would be temporary? “Mostly about what comes next.”

Rachel shifted, propping herself up on one elbow to look at him. In the soft glow of the bedside lamp, her eyes searched his face. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

The uncertainty in her voice tugged at something deep in his chest. Jim reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Not a chance. Not ever.”

The smile that spread across her face was like sunrise—slow, beautiful, illuminating.

She leaned down, pressing her lips gently against his.

Jim’s hand came up to cup the back of her neck, keeping her close as the kiss deepened, still marveling that he was allowed to do this now.

That this wasn’t for show or appearance, but because they’d made a vow, no longer a business deal for one year, but now it was understood they would love and honor till death do they part.

When she pulled back, he reveled in every detail of her face—the slight flush in her cheeks, the flecks of gold in her green eyes, the softness of her lips.

Jim shifted, sitting up a bit straighter against the pillows, organizing his thoughts. “I’ve been thinking about Michael and kids like him. The ones falling through the cracks.”

“There are so many,” Rachel said, a familiar sadness touching her eyes.

“Too many,” Jim agreed. “And the system is broken. I saw that today.” He paused, gathering his courage for what felt strangely like a second proposal. “I have resources, Rachel. What if we used some of it to start a foundation?”

Her eyes widened. “A foundation?”

“Something to help these kids—a safe home, halfway house, outpatient therapy.” His words came faster now, excitement building. “Whatever you think would make a real difference.”

For a long moment, Rachel just stared at him, her lips slightly parted in surprise. The silence stretched, and doubt began to creep in.

“I’ve learned a lot since coming home. The business can run just fine without me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ll still go back from time to time to make sure all is as it should be, but I don’t ever want to live for my job again.

I could run this new foundation—with your guidance—and really make a difference.

Is it a bad idea?” Uncertainty edged into his voice.

Then Rachel’s face transformed, a smile blooming that rivaled the Texas sun. She leaned over him, her face hovering just above his, close enough that he could feel her breath on his lips.

“No, Mr. Henderson,” she whispered. “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

Relief and joy surged through him. He reached up, his hand cupping the back of her neck, drawing her down for a kiss that was slow, sweet, and full of a future he hadn’t dared to dream of until her.

It was a kiss that promised shared dawns, quiet evenings, and a lifetime of making a difference, side by side. A lifetime of sweet.