You Don't Know Jack

Meet April Davis. She's a yoga-loving, meditation-preaching influencer building The Calm Mom brand, one deep breath at a time. She's also a freshly divorced single mother of three whose life is a total train wreck disguised as a wellness account. When her carefully curated livestream goes spectacularly viral for all the wrong reasons (there's pee, there's screaming, there's definitely an unhinged fairy godmother rant), her career implodes faster than her toddler's potty training progress.

Enter Jack Gibson, the suit-wearing, problem-solving, and annoyingly gorgeous workaholic. He's the Vice President of Influencer Strategy, and he doesn't do messy. He definitely doesn't do kids. And he absolutely, positively does not fall for his clients.

When Jack trades his fancy LA high-rise for suburbia in Denver to fix April's PR disaster, he ends up living in her house, folding her laundry (badly), building frog habitats with her five-year-old, and realizing that her particular brand of beautiful disaster feels dangerously like the home he never knew he wanted.

Now April's juggling a make-or-break interview, a toddler who only speaks in banana, an eight-year-old with questionable shoe choices, and a man who looks way too good holding a laundry basket. Jack knows he should keep this professional. He knows she's not ready. He knows walking away is the smart move.

Too bad nobody asked his heart.

Sometimes the man who shows up to fix your life ends up wrecking every plan you ever made. And sometimes that's exactly what you need.

* Forced Proximity
* Single Mom
* Opposites Attract
* He Falls First
* Grumpy/Sunshine
* Found Family

Previously published as April May Fall.

You Don't Know Jack
Chapter One
April

April Davis used to be a catch.
Or at least that’s what her husband used to say. But once upon a time was a long, long time and one very final divorce ago.
A year ago. Her divorce had been finalized exactly one year to the day.
She gulped down all the emotion from the past year like it was a soda at the 7-Eleven near the yoga studio where she taught classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Then, for the briefest of seconds, she honored the memory of what should have been… before refocusing on the future.
She had to honor that now instead.
Cell pressed to her ear in her suburban Denver kitchen, April listened as her social influencer team manager gave her last-minute updates before April left for her livestream that afternoon.
Meanwhile, she eyed her eight-year-old daughter, Harmony, as she forced her feet into one-size-too-small bright green dressy shoes that didn’t match her orange outfit. They didn’t match at all.
April shook her head frantically toward her daughter, gesturing at the shoes.
Harmony was patently ignoring her mother’s attempts to get her attention. Her daughter might as well be coated with an entire pound of butter, because the worries of the world always slid right off her.
These days, between teaching yoga, starting her new business, and wrangling her kids, April barely had time to grab a shower and comb her hair. Or clean her house. Or mow her yard. Her nonstick coating had deserted her right along with her original life plans.
April tried to follow along with the call, but her primary concern at the moment was getting Harmony’s cooperation to wear the black patent shoes April had laid out earlier. She had already caved and approved the orange outfit, even though it didn’t match the blue the rest of the family wore.
She pulled the phone away from her ear and put it on speak-er so she could use both hands to help Harmony.
“These squish your toes,” she whispered, keeping one ear on the phone and both eyes on her daughter.
“They make me feel special.” Harmony raised her gaze to meet April’s with a silent resolve that April felt clearly in the depths of her bones.
Fine, if green pinchy shoes made Harmony feel special, then what did it really matter?
April’s teeth seemed to find her bottom lip all on their own, chewing the lipstick clean off. Which meant she’d need to reapply before she left. The mental list of things to remember as she got out the door and stepped into her future as a social media influencer was growing by the second.
“April, you are doing fantastic.” Jack Gibson joined the call, his voice throaty and deep. All business. Just before her divorce finalized, Jack was the man who had brokered the deal that would, in theory, make her a household name. He’d arranged a guest spot on the ever-popular, live morning web show Practical Parenting. Two weeks to the appearance that would propel her to household status.
Network morning talk shows had nothing on the audience of Practical Parenting. Or so Jack said. April had seen the statistics of their audience numbers and they were big. Massive. So she believed him.
“Hi,” Harmony said as she skipped to the phone April had placed on the counter. “Who are you?”
Damn. Damn. Dammit.
Was it inappropriate to put her hand over her kid’s mouth?
Yeah, April gritted her teeth. Inappropriate.
“Mommy’s on a call,” she said instead, holding her finger to her lips. “Shhh.”
“This is Jack,” Jack said, like this was an actual introduction. “Who is this?”
“That’s Harmony,” April said, pressing her fingertip harder to her lips. “She’s getting ready for the big shopping trip.”
“Wanna see my loose tooth?” Harmony asked, reaching into the depths of her mouth to wiggle at the molar.
“It’s not a video call,” April said, shaking her head frantically. “He can’t see your tooth.”
April hated live videos. Too many variables. Oh, sure, she did them. Of course she did—she had to. But she did them in the relatively controlled environment of her home after rehearsing multiple times. And, also, most of her videos were prerecorded. Life was easier that way.
Even when it was freaking hard.
“I’m wearing my green shoes.” Harmony climbed up on the stool to get closer to the cell.
There was a bit of a pause.
“Green shoes are…great,” Jack finally said, sounding excessively out of his depth.
If he saw the dress they went with, April had a feeling he’d change that tune real quick. Jack was all about appearances.
He went on about final touches, while April shooed Harmony toward the door.
A success in the world of turning social influencers into celebrities, Jack’s blond-haired, blue-eyed, sun-kissed California handsome was wrapped up tight in a suit that probably cost more than her monthly mortgage. At least, that’s how his photo appeared on the company website. Still, he had a way about him that soothed frayed edges.
She used to be that way, too, back in the before times. Before the divorce times. She used to soothe, too. Now, though, her edges stayed consistently frayed. Not even Jack could smooth them.
So she did what her mama and her mama before her did: she faked it. Until she made it. Dear God, please let her make it. The Calm Mom: Mindful Motherhood, Simplified. Her brainchild and the vision that made her feel special. She had become a brand. A brand she’d spun out of nothing but sheer determination and the hope that someday her life would, in fact, be peaceful again. Soon.
Soon-ish. Someday.
Maybe starting today, with this hopefully-leads-to-more-endorsements video of her shopping excursion at Earth Foods, Denver’s premier organic grocery store chain.
April’s company had launched only two months ago. Over twenty-thousand YouTube subscribers practiced yoga with her prerecorded videos every week. Also, she posted a biweekly meditation series that had surpassed the number of yoga followers within the first month.
Self-sufficiency as an influencer was on the horizon.
Take that, Kent. That’d be her ex. She’d make this work because she didn’t need him or any future spousal support.
Back in the day, she’d made the wrong choice to put her career on hold so he could play alpha male and climb that corporate ladder. This would be her comeback. She would be her own alpha this time. Alpha, beta, omega…she could be everything.
Harmony bounced out of the kitchen as Jack said, “Your brand is solid. Your content is spot-on. Now we shine.”
We. As though they were a team. Which, they sort of were, given that he was the Vice President of Influencer Strategy and she was officially now an influencer. With followers and everything.
She took him off speaker and held her phone against her ear as she lifted toddler Lola from the toy-mess she’d made on the floor and began shooing Harmony toward the garage so they could load up.
“Rachel will meet you at the store. She’ll ensure everyone is briefed and ready to roll,” Jack’s words were smooth as honey, calming as a well-timed Savasana. “You have any problems, I’ll be right here to help.”
“Perfect.” April gulped, stepping around a pile of Legos in the laundry room so she could slip into her own shoes, the black flats that would’ve matched Harmony’s.
She switched the phone to her other ear as Jack-the-multitasker shuffled papers in the background and said something to someone else in his Los Angeles office she knew he rarely left.
“I can’t ask her that,” Jack said, but clearly not to April. There was some mumbling in the background before he said, “Are they willing to pay for it?” More mumbling. Then to her: “They’re asking that you bring the dog, April. The store’s got a whole canine-food-delivery thing going to the picnic tables out front. They want to highlight it. I’m just finding out.”
April’s pulse paused a beat. It’s okay, girl. Pick your battles. But. Uh. No. No. No. April’s geriatric basset hound, Mayonnaise—yes, that was her official name—had an unholy fear of riding in the car and a seriously unreliable bladder.
Any outings with Mayonnaise required a solid strategy, not to mention two adults to lift her into and out of the car.
“I…I’m sorry, Jack, but that’s not going to happen,” April said, glancing at the hefty dog. Mayonnaise chilled near the bay window overlooking the crinkled leaves dropping from the trees onto the trampoline in the backyard.
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Like he was waiting for her to change her mind.
Jack rarely heard the word “no” from anyone; she was certain of that. Yet, in this case, the no remained a total necessity. Mayonnaise was not invited to the grocery store.
“She just doesn’t do well in public,” April went on. “Maybe Rachel will let me borrow one of her dogs?”
Rachel was April’s assistant and Jack’s sister—that’s how they’d connected. Rachel had started doing executive assistant work for April, and then she’d introduced her to Jack. Then Jack mentioned her to the CEO of his social influencer management company and things took off from there.
Rachel also had two golden retrievers that were rambunctious, but at least they had solid bladder control.
“Good call,” Jack said, offhandedly. “I’ll figure something out.” There was more shuffling on his end, followed by a muffled, “We need a dog for the shoot. Get Rachel on the line.”
“I’ll have to add the new dog to the blog, podcasts, social media.” Tension infused April’s words as she spoke. No way was this going to work.
“April.” Jack was back. Jack and his no-nonsense, make-things-happen energy. The energy that had gotten April to sign with his firm. “I solve problems; it’s what I do. I’ve got this. We’ll get through the video, then we’ll deal with the rest. One thing at a time.”
Great. Okay, this was good. Everything’s fine.
“I’ll be watching. Monitoring the comments,” he said, his words so smooth, they could melt the glaze clean off a doughnut—the glazed kind with chocolate frosting and little pink sprinkles. Not that April was picky about her doughnut choice.
Except, fine, she was totally picky about her doughnut choice.
Mostly, she had to be, because she rarely ate doughnuts. Until recently. “Recently” being a year ago when her husband—ex-husband—abandoned their family in favor of his midlife crisis skydiving instructor.
She had learned two lessons from her divorce. One, go with your gut before you saunter down the aisle with the wrong man. Even if you’re positive you love him and he loves you. That little niggle of doubt? Trust it.
And two, if you don’t and do it anyway, then ensure your name is on everything. Or he’ll be able to take it all with him when he walks away.
“I’ve got this.” She kept the smile in her voice, even as her peripheral vision caught her five-year-old son, Rohan, lapping up Goldfish crackers with his tongue from the garage floor near her van.
He did a leapfrog hop as he flicked his tongue to the nearest cracker.
“This is going to make your career,” Jack assured. “Trust me.”
“I’m leaving.” She averted her gaze from her frog-loving son so she could focus on Jack. “Getting the kids loaded.”
As soon as she got the floor-cracker out of her son’s mouth. The kids shopping with her was part of the deal with the promotion she’d agreed on. A simple ditty following a peace-filled single mom as she joyfully shops for organic carrots with her well-adjusted children and pretend dog. Today’s little side gig Jack had booked for her would be enough to pay her mortgage that month and, hopefully, lead to more.
More being the self-sufficiency she craved.
“I’ll call you after,” Jack said like the hotshot mogul he totally was. Then he rehashed the specifics and reminders about what she needed to say, not say, do, and not do.
Her muscles tensed at the number of his instructions. She exhaled and focused on progressively relaxing the muscles in her back. This was only a video. One video. Nothing more. She’d done videos before. Everything would be hunky-dory.
“Ribbit,” Rohan said, his enormous eyes looking up at her.
April turned back to him, catching him mid-tongue-flick with another cracker from the floor.
Dammit.
Rohan was processing his dad’s betrayal by pretending he was a frog. This had concerned her at first, but the professionals assured her he wouldn’t be an imaginary amphibian forever. He’d come around; he just needed to know he was loved and life would continue even without his jackass of a dad.
Not that she thought about her ex often anymore. She didn’t see him in the faces of their three kids like she used to. The sparse amount of time he spent with them made this task easier.
“April?” Jack asked. “Are you with me?”
Crud, what had he been saying? “Yes, of course. All good.”
Hopefully, he couldn’t tell she was only yea far from a total freak-out.
“Questions?” he asked.
“Nope,” she said, but didn’t move. Instead, she took the deepest, most cleansing breath possible and paused, letting her mind briefly sweep clean of all thought. “I’m ready,” she said, her voice radiating calm while inside she tried to remember if her older daughter had softball practice the next evening.
It was Jack’s turn to pause. There was the sound of paper shuffling followed by, “I’ll stick close to my phone while they’re filming. Questions, just have Rachel call.”
“Of course,” April replied, steeping her voice in what, she hoped like hell-o, sounded like “peace-be-with-you” and not “son of a bitch I’ve gotta figure out how to get my five-year-old to stop licking cracker crumbs off the ground.”
“Great,” he said. But it came across more like “fantastic.” Brilliant. Wonderful.
Breathe in Jack’s promises. Breathe out hesitation.
“Great,” April echoed, her voice as pure and gentle as a woman who was faking it for all she was worth.
They ended the call, and she gripped her cell in her hand. She held on to more than the phone. She latched on to the idea that there could be more to life than falling, and that made her heart-space soften and her breaths come more evenly.
April brushed a chunk of hair from her forehead where it flopped. This was her life, and she totally had this.