A/N: Scene by scene I carry on. I loooove this pairing. I cannot stop. Eventually I'll get to the end. Who knows when (btw, i have severe writer's block regarding the other currently active fic i'm writing, soooorry :O) As always, comments and reviews are appreciated. :D

Lucy stood shivering at the curb, watching Jack grasp the handle of the huge sliding door. He grunted as he hoisted the thing up. Forgetting her criticism of his parking abilities, she found herself observing him appreciatively. For the first time she allowed herself to to acknowledge her attraction to the man. And wasn't it strange? He was nothing like any of the slick corporate type men she'd mooned over so shamelessly in the past. He was just your average Chicagoan with kind eyes, and a soft smile. And, maybe he was a little more than average in certain departments. He certainly filled out his jeans rather nicely.

"Ready for your surprise?" He looked down at her eagerly, pausing dramatically before saying, "Ta-da!"

Lucy snapped out of her thoughts, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. Get a grip, Luce. This is highly inappropriate. He's your imaginary fiance's brother. Great, now she was talking to herself. She tried valiantly to refocus her attention.

There was a quaint yet beautiful rocking chair filling her vision. So simple really, but something about it spoke to Lucy. It reminded her of her childhood home, sitting down by the fireplace, while her father rocked her, reading to her. "It's great. It is so great."

Jack reached for her, innocently offering her his hand. She took it without thinking, and he pulled her up into the truck. She gained her footing, and wondered if it would be insanely weird for her to just keep his hand for a minute. Yes. It would be very odd. She regretfully released him.

"You like that?" He nodded to the chair curiously. He sounded a bit surprised, standing a bit back from her, watching as she admired the piece of furniture.

She smiled. Why wouldn't she like it? It was beautiful, and so obviously handmade, she almost felt guilty about accepting such a generous present, but not guilty enough to say no. Suddenly it was very important that she have this rocking chair. "Yeah."

He smiled, this time a little mischievous glint in his eye. Lucy felt warm, the near freezing air not enough to keep the blood from chasing along the surface of her skin. How did he do that?

He interrupted her contemplation. "Well too bad, Ox got you the loveseat." He chuckled a little, the smile slow to leave his face as he gestured to the dark green patterned overstuffed piece of furniture.

Lucy was almost ok with not getting the beautiful rocking chair, gifted instead with the sound of Jack's laughter, something she'd had little opportunity to hear in the past. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He paused, taking a tiny fortifying breath before continuing. "I made this." His words came out like a confession, pregnant with anticipation, as though it wasn't something he shared with people all that often, at least not unprompted.

"You made this? No, you didn't." Lucy ran her fingers along the smooth wood, marveling at the polished surface. She could see the seams where the slats fit together, but they were undetectable to the touch.

"Shocking, isn't it?"

He'd made this? For some reason the idea awed her. Who knew there were men out there, attractive single men, who did things like this? She was so used to the power brokers flashing pearly smiles at her while they chattered away on their cell phones, absentmindedly flicking a token under her window as they continued on with their fast paced lives. The 'Peters' she'd allowed herself to become enamored with off and on. She was beginning to realize how silly her infatuations were. "Can I sit in it?"

He nodded. "Rock out."

She laughed at his dorky turn of phrase, eagerly sliding into the seat. Looking up at him, she was struck by an unexpected wave of longing. Here was a man, who made things with his hands, put love and a caring attention to detail into something that he created. He took the time to sand out the bumps, smooth away the defects, stain the wood to an even and beautiful chocolatey hue.

She wanted Jack to lean down, smile at her as he gently took her face in his hands. She wanted to know how it felt to have his lips pressed against her own, the slight stubble tickling her skin. She couldn't even push away the longing with thoughts of Peter and his family. She felt powerless against it as an unreserved smile spread across Jack's face, and he bashfully tucked his hands into his pockets, shrugging his shoulders as if none of it were a big deal.

She looked away quickly, returning her attention back to the fine grained wood beneath her fingertips. The amorphous attraction she'd been feeling for Jack had suddenly taken on a much more defined shape. Maybe what she was feeling for him was just as shallow as whatever she had felt for Peter, but each time she was in Jack's proximity she felt giddy, a falling sensation flipping her stomach. Was it love? Impossible, wasn't it? But hell, the way he looked down at her made anything seem possible.

She rocked back and forth slightly, her thoughts slowly turning back to the object she was supposed to be pathing attention to. It really was wonderful, the kind of workmanship you just didn't see any more. Everyone cluttering their home with poorly made Ikea imitations these days. "My God, this is great. You should go into business or something."

"Well, that get's tricky." He drew out the first word, turning to sit on the loveseat across from her. The look of disappointment and indecision that flashed across his features pained her.

She'd spoken the words before realizing their full import. As usual she'd stuck her foot in her mouth. "Oh yeah, working with your dad and everything, right?" Duh, of course. Now she felt bad, fidgeting with her hands, looking away from him once again.

She listened carefully to his response, taking in the extreme sense of familial obligation that Jack had saddled upon himself, feeling like he had to take up Peter's slack, and now that the family business seemed to rest entirely on his shoulders. "The business was Callaghan and Sons, then it was Callaghan and Son. If I were to leave, it would just be Callaghan."

Jack's unhappiness was a tangible thing for Lucy, and yet his loyalty to his family, his love for his father was something she understood. That was the thing about having such a large group of people who loved you. It meant there were more people to disappoint, more people who relied on you. She respected Jack, even as she ached for his predicament. "I would give you some great advice, but I can't say I know a whole lot about familial obligations."

The air was thick, the atmosphere shifting once again between them. Jack looking at her like she was some china doll he wanted to wrap in packing material. She was the first to break their somewhat intense staring contest, taking a sudden interest in the strap holding the rocking chair to the wall of the truck.

He cleared his throat, a gruff little cough finally breaking the weird tension. "Well, get used to it. You're gonna be a Callaghan soon anyway, so take notes." He levered himself up off the loveseat, shuffling around indecisively for a minute, he dug around in the recesses of the truck to find the furniture dolly. He lifted the ugly loveseat, trying fruitlessly to kick the wheeled device underneath it. He grunted. "As soon as you two say your I-do's, Ma'll be interrogating you about grandchildren."

Lucy laughed. She was beginning to think more and more about being a Callaghan. She would be fine if she never had a moment's solitude again. She could imagine a few little Callaghans running circles around her as she decorated a christmas tree. One particular Callaghan smiling fondly down on her as she drifted off to sleep at night.

Unfortunately, it wasn't Peter she was thinking about, and she wasn't entirely sure if the other Callaghans would ever speak to her again once they learned of her deceit. She sighed. "Let me help you with that. You're gonna throw your back out or something."

She lifted one end and the dolly slide smoothly underneath it. "Perfect." He leaned back, proudly eyeing their handiwork.

She nodded, watching as he stretched a little, making sure he hadn't actually hurt himself. "Yeah, perfect."