gossiping about Jackson, or kissing and telling. It wasn’t professional.
“We’re just friends…I mean colleagues.”
Jessa stopped spraying and spoke through clenched teeth. “Does he know that?”
“What do you mean?”
“He has the look.”
My head tilted to the side as Jessa pulled out a section of my hair with a large, round brush and ran a blow dryer along it. “The look?”
“Yeah, the look. The look that men get when they are in love. It’s the look they get when they want to mark their territory. It’s the look they get when they will kill anyone that hurts you. It’s the look that says they want to rip your clothes off but then hold you gently afterwards. It’s the look that says ‘mine.’ You know, the look?”
“I don’t think he has the look.”
Although…he hadn’t seemed happy when I was talking to Hank.
He had said he’d wanted to kiss me since the first time he saw me.
And, although he didn’t rip my clothes off because I was already naked, there was a good chance that he would have if there had been anything to rip.
And I had fallen asleep in his arms the night before.
“Oh, he does.” She moved to another section of my hair. “Believe me, I’ve seen it my entire life. My dad is straight up twitterpated with my mom. I bet we won’t be there five minutes before you’ll see the look. I will say though, it’s easier to spot the look when the look isn’t directed at you, which is probably why you haven’t seen it. Because Jackson for sure has the look.”
“No. It’s really not like that.” I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince Jessa or myself. “We just met, and he’s leaving the country in a few days for his next job.”
“How long you know someone, and geography are irrelevant. Neither negates the look, that’s all I’m sayin’.”
Jessa made quick work of my blowout and then gave me a fresh makeup look. We chatted about Mia and all the behind-the-scenes Fairytale Love shenanigans. Before I knew it, she was ripping off my cape.
“Wow.” I ran my fingers through my hair as I looked at my reflection. The makeup she’d done was understated, but really made all of my features pop. My eyes, my lips, and my cheekbones were all highlighted. “This is amazing! Thank you! You are truly an artist.”
“It helps when you have a drop-dead gorgeous canvas.”
I shook my head and stood and grabbed my purse. “How much do I owe you?”
“Are you kidding me? It’s on the house!”
“No, I can’t do that. Please.” I pulled out my wallet.
“I’m not going to take your money. But if you wouldn’t mind letting me take your picture to put up on the website, I’d appreciate it. If not, no worries.”
“Of course!” I agreed.
The impromptu photo shoot lasted for only a few minutes and then we headed out. Jessa was locking up the shop when I spotted Jackson at the end of the street talking to three elderly women.
When Jessa turned around, she saw the same thing. “Oh no. They have him surrounded.”
“Is that…?”
“The Needlepoint Mafia.”
I’d heard Mia talk about the three women that ran the town. They stood out to me because of the name, The Needlepoint Mafia, which was their knitting group. Apparently, they were also matchmakers, although to my knowledge they’d never admitted to playing cupid. But from what I’d heard, once they decided to set their sights on someone, that person was in love within a matter of months—or even weeks or days.
“The tiny one that looks like a strong wind would blow her over is Mrs. Chen. Mrs. Dobrinski is the Mrs. Clause look-alike. And Mrs. Weathersby is the one holding a basket full of her banana bread, and her claim to fame is that she was a Rockette.”
“They look so…harmless.”
“I know. But don’t let their unassuming appearances fool you. They may look like nice, little old ladies but they are ruthless and relentless when they set their minds to something. And hot, successful men are their favorite prey. We should probably rescue him.”
“Okay.” I had to admit, I did feel a little bit intimated by them. But, it was only fair to come to Jackson’s rescue since he’d done the same for me when Wishing Well’s version of The Needlepoint Mafia had cornered me at the well.
As we approached the group, I noticed that Jackson was blushing. Actually, blushing. I wondered what these women could’ve possibly said to him to make that