by Sarah Peis
I glanced at Jameson, who was now concentrating on the road, and felt a familiar tingling in my stomach. The more time I spent with him, the more I started to realize what all the fuss was about. He was a good guy. Rude, but not heartless. And I was the fool who had just joined his fan club.
Jameson drove the whole way there. I offered to take over a few times, but he said he was fine whenever I mentioned it.
We didn’t talk much, and I fell asleep after asking him for the third time if he wanted me to drive. Might as well sleep when I could—who knew when I would get the chance again? The gentle brush of a hand on my face woke me up. “Willa.”
I dragged myself into a sitting position after ending up slumped against the window. Jameson was leaning over me, his hand still on my cheek. “You up?”
“Mmmhmm.”
“I got you some coffee at the last rest stop. Might be a bit co—“
I didn’t let him finish his sentence before I grabbed the cup he held out and gulped down half its contents. The coffee was lukewarm and tasted bitter, but I was so grateful to get any at all that I didn’t care. I put the cup down and smiled at Jameson. “You got me coffee.”
“That I did. If I’d known cheap gas station coffee was all it would take for you to smile at me, I’d have bought some sooner.”
We were parked at a rest stop just outside of Vegas. Jameson was sitting in the driver’s seat and held out a bag. “I got you a sandwich as well. Wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a few different ones. I’ll eat whatever you don’t want.”
I stared at him for a moment and took the bag to look inside. I selected one and handed the rest back to him. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
I unwrapped my sandwich and took a big bite. Ham and cheese with mustard, one of my favorites. Jameson ate two sandwiches while I finished mine before he started the car and pulled back out onto the highway. “Where to?”
“Dad’s staying with a friend in Summerlin.”
“Summerlin it is.”
We drove the rest of the way in comfortable silence. I was anxious to get this whole ordeal over with. I sent Dad a text that I was almost there, but he didn’t reply.
Greg lived in a neglected condo that had seen better days. He had never held a job but managed to keep his head above water by working all sorts of shady jobs and not asking questions. The dodgy business must be paying well because I spotted a brand-new Mustang in his car bay.
Jameson parked out on the street and opened his door. I didn’t want him to witness any of what was sure to go down. This was embarrassing enough already, no need to keep driving it home. “I’ll be right back,” I said, desperate to get him to stay in the car.
He put a hand on my arm, stopping me from getting out. “No, you’re not. I’m coming with you.”
“There’s really no need. It will only take a few minutes.”
He ignored my protest and got out of the car. Exhaling a deep breath, I slid out of my seat and joined him. He was already waiting outside my door and took my hand, ignoring my weak protest.
Greg was in the bottom condo, so at least we didn’t have to climb any stairs. The music was blasting from inside, and I sighed. It was after midnight, and they would be tanked. Great. Dad would be a pain to get out of there.
I knocked and waited, rolling on the balls of my feet. Back and forth. Back and forth. In between fidgeting, I shot nervous glances over my shoulder at Jameson. He was an immovable wall behind me, watching my every move. Nobody answered, and I knocked again, this time harder.
The door swung open, revealing a mountain of a man I didn’t recognize. He had a shaved head and was tattooed up to his neck. I automatically took a step back.
“You Cindy?”
“Who?”
He looked me up and down and spoke extra slowly. “Cindy. The stripper.”
Jameson growled and stepped forward, but before he got very far, I pushed in front of him. “Fuck no. I’m here for Garret Montgomery.”
Door guy nodded and stepped back. “Last time I saw him, he was playing poker with Greg.”
I walked past him, Jameson glued to my side, my hand firmly held in his. Greg’s friends were pigs, and the less interaction I had with them the better. Having someone next to me put me at ease, especially since that person was Jameson. I realized I trusted him completely and was glad he was there. Mountain man didn’t try to touch me but instead closed the door and nodded in the direction of the living room. “Try in there.”
We walked into the hazy room, filled with cigarette smoke and weed. It was hard to see much of anything, but we made our way in the direction he indicated. Dad was easy to spot, his blond head standing out.
I stopped next to him, but he didn’t even look up. No surprise there since he didn’t see anything or anyone else once he started a game, but there was no way I’d stick around. Especially not after Greg noticed me. “Little Montgomery. Come over here and say hello.”
His obvious perusal of my body made me want to cover myself in bleach before getting the hell out of there, even if it meant leaving Dad behind. Jameson stepped close, pressing his front to the side of my body.
I looked at Greg, not even managing the tiniest of smiles. He was a disgusting leech who tried to feel me up when I was sixteen.
“Greg,” I said, my voice tight.
“Garret, my man, why didn’t you tell me your daughter had grown into such a hot piece of ass? We could have worked something out about your debt.”
I felt Jameson tense beside me, the hold he had on my hand becoming uncomfortable. The comment finally made Dad look up and notice me. “Willa. What are you doing here?” He looked confused, as if he hadn’t called me hours earlier.
“I’m here to pick you up. Come on, we need to go.”
“Honey, I need to finish the game.” His bloodshot eyes met mine, and I watched him sway in his seat. Shit. He was beyond tanked.
I took his arm, trying to get him to stand. “Dad, come on. Let’s go.”
Greg watched us with his beady little rat eyes. Any attention was bad attention when it came to him. We had to get out of here.
I managed a glimpse at Dad’s cards when he lifted them off the table and my heart sank. He was definitely not going to win this round unless he was a great bluffer, which he definitely wasn’t. His inebriated state didn’t do much for his poker face, either.
“Your father here owes me money, Willa. He can’t just walk out. This game is his chance to get it all back.”
“He’s drunk out of his mind. You’re fucking playing him like you play everyone else. Let us go, and I’ll pay you back whatever he owes you.”
Greg clicked his tongue, his eyes on my chest. “That’s not how it works, and you know it. Give me the money and you can go… after the game is finished, of course.”
I was an idiot for even considering it, but I was also desperate. And desperate Willa made stupid decisions. “Let me take his place.”
Jameson pulled me around to face him. “Not happening. You are not putting yourself at risk for him.”
I freed my hand and put space between us. “Not your decision. I’m a big girl and know what I’m getting myself into. Now you can support me and be there for me, or you can wait outside.”
His face was a mask of barely controlled anger. The muscles in his jaw started ticking, and I knew I’d won. Without another word, I turned around, ignoring the fire shooting out of his eyes.
I hadn’t played in a few years, but Dad had taught me well. Poker was all I’d played growing up. It was the only time he actually showed interest in me, and I’d soaked up every bit of information he divulged. I knew I was a good player, but his hand was terrible. I had to start a new game for a chance to win.
“What do I get out of it?” Greg asked.
“Someone you can actually play with? Don’t think I didn’t notice you just making calls for Dad because he’s too out of it to do it himself.”
Greg liked a good challenge. And if I was able to give him enough of an incentive, I was sure he’d go for it. My skin crawled at the thought of having to sit opposite him, but this was for Dad. No way would I just walk out the door without him.
He grinned, too excited about my offer. I had a bad feeling. “I’ll stop the game right now and let your dad off the hook if you step in. But the stakes will change. If you win, I’ll erase your dad’s debt and you are free to go. If you lose, I’ll get you.”
The revulsion was hard to mask. He was one sick and twisted man. Who knew what him getting me meant.
“Willa,” Jameson growled behind me. I ignored his attempts to get me to turn around again, instead thinking that of all the times Dad had screwed up, this one was by far the worst.
Greg cheated at every game. Sometimes it was obvious, other times it was impossible to catch him. My options looked bleak: play in a game that was most likely rigged or walk away and leave Dad with his mess. If history told me anything, it was that I had never walked away and wouldn’t do so now. We were family after all.
“You erase Dad’s debt even if I lose?”
His smirk was of someone who knew they’d won. “I will. And to make it easy, we’ll play countdown.”
I groaned. Was I ready to place my fate into the hands of destiny? I guess I was because I nodded and took a deep breath of stale cigarette smoke and weed. The smell of champions. “You get one night.”
“Two. Garret has quite the debt to me. Doesn’t know when to quit.”
Didn’t I know it? But I also knew there was no way I’d survive more than one night. And even that was a stretch. “No. It’s one night or we don’t have a deal.”
His eyes held mine for a few seconds before travelling over my boobs. I would definitely need that bleach later. Apparently happy with what he saw, he nodded. “Fine.”
We shook hands, and I resisted the urge to wipe my palms on my pants before sitting down in Dad’s place who we’d moved to the couch. No need to poke an already aggravated asshole. Jameson was standing as close as he could get, his presence reassuring, even though the anger was coming off him in waves.
Well, at least my voice sounded a lot surer than my wildly fluttering heart. I was so screwed. I started out with a shit hand and things didn’t improve. There was also no way to bluff my way out because we both had to show our hands at the end. I had to face it. I made bad choices all the time. Some worse than others. Some monumentally stupid. Like this one. I pretty much signed over my dignity and body to a disgusting, vile man who would do everything he could to ruin me in the time he had.
And judging by the man currently crowding me and growling in my ear, I had also majorly pissed Jameson off. I just hoped for once I was lucky and didn’t screw this up. A glance over my shoulder confirmed he looked ready to tear someone apart, most likely Greg. Resigned, I turned back to my cards.
We were on the last round, I had the choice to exchange one card or stay with the mediocre hand I was currently holding. One card could change everything. I nodded and accepted another card to exchange for one of mine.
Greg nodded at me, and we both turned our cards around. I glanced at my hand and stopped breathing. I had four of a kind. I jerked my head up and saw his full house. No way. I had won.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the cards. They flitted from mine to Greg’s and back, making sure I really had the better hand. There was no way he didn’t cheat. Maybe he just didn’t think I had a chance of anything better than a full house.
“Get out of my sight,” Greg roared. He stood up and gripped the table so hard his knuckles turned white. I was too stunned to move, but Jameson didn’t have the same problem. He pulled me out of my chair and a safe distance away before the whole table crashed to the floor upside down.
Someone had anger issues. I rushed to Dad and shook him. “Dad, we gotta go. Wake up.”
He mumbled in his sleep but didn’t open his eyes. Jameson came up next to me and splashed something on Dad’s face. It smelled like beer but did the job. Dad moved, his eyes half open.
“Willa?” he asked, his voice drowsy.
I took one side and Jameson the other, and together we hoisted him up to a standing position. He was dead weight, his feet not supporting him at all. Neither Jameson nor I wanted to stick around a second longer than we had to and started walking. Dad made half-hearted attempts at moving his feet, but it was mostly just Jameson carrying him outside.
He looked angrier than when he came inside. Double damn. I just hoped he wouldn’t dump us on the side of the road somewhere.
We made it to his truck and leaned Dad up against the side. Jameson opened the door, and together we pushed and pulled Dad onto the back seat. He was lying on his side, feet hanging out of the truck, snoring softly.
I swallowed the bitter words that threatened to escape and instead lifted his feet onto the seat. I somehow buckled him in, and we managed to close the door.
“Get in,” Jameson said, his voice betraying no emotion.
His jaw was clamped tight, the muscles working overtime. Since I had no intention of being on the receiving end of his wrath, I curled up as far away from him as the truck would allow and stayed quiet. We drove for twenty minutes without a sound, except for Dad’s steady snore. It was beyond uncomfortable.
I was too nervous to sleep, the adrenaline still cursing through me in angry swirls. I’d really done it this time. I just hoped Jameson would honor his word and let me continue to work at the garage. I chanced a glance in his direction, and he didn’t look any less angry than when he got in the truck. His hands gripped the steering wheel in a vice-like grip, and his whole body was strung tight.
I couldn’t take the silence anymore and said, “Jameson, I—“
The truck suddenly swerved and came to a stop at the side of the road. Dust flew up all around us, and I was jerked forward. I braced my hand on the dash to avoid hitting my head and looked around frantically. Did we hit something?
Jameson opened his door and jumped out. I looked back to make sure Dad was okay, but he was still draped across the seat, unaffected by the sudden stop. Good thing I managed to get a seat belt around him.
Getting out of the truck seemed like the worst thing to do at this moment, but I did it anyway because Jameson was pacing back and forth like he was warming up for a marathon.
I approached him with halting steps, not sure I was doing the right thing. He seemed to want to be anywhere but near me. “Jameson.”
He ignored me, so I tried again. I was anything if not persistent and apparently also suicidal. If I valued my life, I would have stayed in the truck and let him get on with his episode in peace.
“Jameson. What’s going on?”
Turned out that was the worst thing I could have asked. He swung his angry gaze at me and stalked closer. I wasn’t sure if this was where my flight instinct should have kicked in. I was almost 99 percent sure he wouldn’t have helped carry Dad out of Greg’s only to leave my body in a shallow grave in the desert.
“Let’s talk about this,” I said. Because that’s what adults would do. Talk things through.
Jameson didn’t stop, but instead he swooped me up—yes, swooped, because he didn’t even slow down to pick me up—and pinned me to the passenger door. My feet were dangling off the ground, and I braced my arms on his shoulders.
Now, see, under normal circumstances I would have loved to be in this position. It was as close as I could get to him without taking my clothes off. It also brought me at eye level, and as mentioned before, I loved his eyes. I didn’t have to look up for once. His strong arms held me securely against him, and I tightened my hold around his neck. His hold was firm, but not to the point of painful.
His nose was inches from mine, and his eyes spewed fire at me. “You want to know what’s wrong?”
I nodded because apparently that’s all my body would allow me to do at this stage.
“You nearly got yourself ki
lled in there.”
I squeezed his shoulders—and what shoulders they were—and tried to defuse the situation. “Now that’s a bit dramatic. There would have been no killing. I’m positive that Greg didn’t really want that much trouble. Maybe there would have been rape and torture, but definitely no killing.”
His grip tightened to uncomfortable, and I stopped talking. Guess it wasn’t as reassuring as it sounded in my head.
“Do you know what the hell it felt like to watch you bet yourself in place of your dad’s debt?”
I shook my head. No more talking for me. My reassurance speech needed some work before I would whip that one out again.
And I realized in that moment that I was a little prick who waltzed in there only thinking of one thing. Dad. I didn’t consider how Maisie or Stella would feel if they ever found out. I didn’t consider Jameson because he growled at me whenever he was within hearing range.
I was the worst thing that ever happened to him. I had brought him nothing but trouble. And it was time I owned up to it. Wiggling in his tight grip, I squirmed until he set me back on the ground, and I put some distance between us.
“I’m so sorry for everything. I’m the worst thing that ever happened to you, and I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you. No more talking back. No more ordering things without permission. And I’ll put in extra hours. I’ll be the best receptionist in all of Humptulips.”
“You’re not getting it,” he said, his voice was so low I had to stop my pacing to be able to hear him.
Instead of telling me what an absolute idiot I was, he closed the distance I managed to put between us and crushed his lips to mine. Holy donut, rainbows and fireworks.
His lips were soft and gentle, his touch turning my body to jelly. I’d be damned if I wouldn’t take this chance. So I did the one thing that any sane person with half a brain would do and kissed him back. My tongue sneaked out and traced his lower lip. He opened up, and once our tongues met, my ovaries exploded.
