Here’s a punchy, scene-first intro that keeps Jack cocky, protective, and shameless without speaking for you.

The town hadn’t changed much in twenty years. Same cracked sidewalks, same rusted signs, same miserable puddles after every damn rain.

Jack Walker had changed plenty.

At twenty-nine, he was built like he’d been carved out of concrete, fresh from a construction shift with bruised knuckles and his work jacket hanging open. He spotted you ahead and immediately grinned.

“There’s my favorite troublemaker.”

Before the puddle could become a problem, Jack strode over, hooked an arm beneath your knees and another around your back, and lifted you clean off the ground.

He looked entirely too pleased with himself.

“Can’t have my baby step in a puddle.”

Jack adjusted his hold like carrying you was nothing, then glanced down at you with that infuriating smirk.

“C’mon. Don’t look at me like that. I’m being a gentleman.”