by Sarah Peis
“Sorry about that.” And that was it. That’s all he had to say on the matter. Case closed. He was so clueless. As if I would be happy to just move on. I once made Maisie apologize for a whole week for forgetting to pick me up on her way to school. I could hold a mean grudge.
He left money on the table and got up. “What do you want to do for the rest of the day?”
“Jameson—” I started, but he put his hand on my mouth.
“Oh no, you don’t. Lu-Anne was a mistake that I have no intention of repeating. Stop freaking out. Now I’m going to ask you again. What do you want to do today?”
Oh boy, he was better than I thought. Damn it all to hell, it would be too easy to just give in, but I couldn’t. And there was the point where I was incredibly stubborn. “I think we shouldn’t make this whole thing more complicated than it really is. I might not be working for you anymore, but we all know this isn’t going anywhere. Cut our losses while it won’t hurt any feelings, I say.”
He crowded me against the table and took my face in his hands. “Fuck no. I’ve wanted this for years. I’m not just standing back and watching you talk yourself out of giving us a chance.”
I had absolutely no response to that. What in the ever-loving fuck did he mean that he wanted this for years? He didn’t even know me a couple of weeks ago. I was about to tell him just that when he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. My face went red, partly from hanging upside down, partly from the embarrassment of everyone looking at us. Everyone in Humptulips would know that we’d done the deed. I was never gladder for Maisie and Stella’s absence than at this moment. They would give me hell for going near Jameson if they knew.
“You can’t just end every argument by throwing me over your shoulder, you caveman. It doesn’t work that way.” I slapped his firm butt. “Hey, are you listening to me?”
“Nope. There is nothing to discuss. And we didn’t have an argument. You were chickening out again. So I’m making this decision for us. We are going back to my apartment, where you’ll stay until tomorrow morning.”
“Excuse me?” My concern gave way to anger. “What the fuck gives you the right to make a decision like that for me? What if I have to go home? What if I left my stove on?”
“You don’t cook.”
He put me down in front of his truck, caging me in with his big body while opening the door. I was once again lifted into the seat. He even locked the door after he closed it. As if I didn’t know how to unlock a door. I fumbled for the handle but couldn’t find the unlock button. Damn car didn’t have a lock on the door. Turned out I didn’t know how to open a goddamn car door after all.
Jameson got in and grinned at me. “You tried to get out but couldn’t unlock the door, didn’t you?” The smug bastard. I crossed my arms and leaned back in my seat.
He leaned over, and I held my breath. His face was inches from mine, and I fought the urge to close the distance. I liked his kisses. A lot. And I wanted him to kiss me again. Often. But right then I was mad at him.
Reading my mood, he reached around me to get the seat belt out and buckled me in. With one last wink in my direction, he sat back in his seat and pulled out of the parking lot.
Once he somehow maneuvered me back into his apartment, I was stunned. What I didn’t expect Jameson to do was to watch a movie with me. Or to cuddle on the couch. Or to cook me dinner. I also didn’t think he’d want me to stay the night again, which I wasn’t prepared for since I didn’t bring a change of clothes. I could only turn my underwear inside out so many times.
Jameson ignored my protest and instead gave me one of his shirts and boxers to sleep in. Not that I put up much of a fight. It was one of the best days I’d ever had. It was perfection, because I got to spend it with Jameson.
When we eventually went to bed, I was ready to tear my hair out. All I wanted was for him to make a move. Instead he tucked me in and spooned me. Now, any other time I would have been over the moon. But I was on fire from all his little touches and caresses throughout the day. Spooning was just not going to do it for me.
I turned around so we were nose to nose, mouth to mouth.
“Hey,” I said. Lame, I know, but my brain tended to shut down every time I was close to him.
He grinned at me. “Can’t sleep?”
That bastard. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. Two could play that game.
“I’m fine. Just wanted to turn around.”
I felt his erection press against my thigh and blinked at him innocently. His grin faltered, and he pulled me closer. I kissed his cheek and closed my eyes. “Okay, goodnight.”
I heard a groan, and then I found myself flat on my back, pinned down by the Neanderthal. “I don’t think so,” he growled.
“Changed your mind?”
“My mind was always made up. Nothing to change.”
“Then why the spooning?”
“I wanted to make sure you knew that I don’t just want one thing from you. I like having you close.”
Now, that went straight to places that didn’t need any more stimulation. And the night went places I couldn’t ever seem to get enough of. Definitely one of my favorite days.
When my alarm rang, I’d had a grand total of two hours of sleep. I was tired but happier than I ever remember being.
“What is that?” Jameson grumbled into my hair.
“My alarm. Go back to sleep.”
“Why would you set your alarm for—” He looked at his nightstand and frowned. “—fucking three in the morning?”
“I have to go to work.”
“You go to work at three?”
“Have to be there by four, and I’m slow in the morning. Usually it takes me about four hits of the snooze button, two cups of coffee, and a cold shower to be awake enough to drive.”
Jameson seemed wide awake now. “How often do you get up this early?”
“I work at the bakery Monday to Friday, sometimes on Saturdays if Rayna needs me.”
His face turned dark, and he frowned at me. “Are you telling me that you’ve been working at the bakery in the morning and then coming to the garage?”
I moved out of his arms and detangled my legs from his. “Yes?” It sounded more like a question, but I wasn’t sure why he was suddenly so angry.
“You’ve been working for me for weeks.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t you also work at the Donut Hole?”
“Some nights.”
“What the fuck, Willa?” He looked ready to burst a blood vessel.
I scrambled out of bed, glad I put on a shirt and underwear before I fell asleep. “I should go. I don’t want to be late.”
“You’re always late.”
It was my turn to glare at him, but he didn’t seem affected in the least. He also didn’t seem to want to let this conversation die the slow and awkward death it deserved. “Why didn’t you say something?”
I scrambled for my jeans that I had thrown on the floor the night before. “What difference would it make? You blackmailed me into working for you. I didn’t think you’d care that I already had two jobs.”
Finally I spotted my jeans and stepped into them. They were about halfway up my legs when Jameson appeared next to me. I hopped up and down to speed up the process and get out of there. I didn’t understand why he was upset. I told him I didn’t want to work for him from the start. This should not be breaking news.
His face was serious. Way too serious for three in the morning. “Willa, I would have never made you work for me full time if I’d known.” His anger morphed into regret.
I avoided looking at him and turned back to wrestling with my clothes. “All good. No hard feelings, especially now that I don’t work for you anymore.” I managed to get the jeans over my butt and hold my breath to close the button. After another short struggle with my shirt, I was fully dressed. For some reason it made me feel much more confident, and I turned to face a hovering Jameson.
“I re
ally do need to go.”
He stepped closer and put his arms around me. I automatically sank into him, putting my hands on his smooth chest that I would never get enough of touching.
He leaned his head down, pressing his cheek against mine. “Would you still come back for a few hours each week? The office has never been so organized, and the new software you bought is amazing. Cuts our paperwork in half.”
Right, I forgot I purchased software without getting him to approve it first. Probably should have asked for permission, but at the time it seemed like a great way to piss him off.
“I’ll think about it.”
He leaned down and kissed me, his mouth now familiar and something I didn’t think I ever wanted to live without again. He pulled back after one last kiss to my cheek. “It will be easy money. And I’ll actually be paying you this time, plus the money I owe you, of course.”
He must have forgotten about the coffee machine, but who was I to remind him?
With one last glance over my shoulder—because let’s be honest, who wouldn’t look until the last minute when faced with a half-naked Jameson?—I left his apartment.
“You’re late,” Rayna greeted me when I was stumbling through the door of Sweet Dreams’ kitchen.
I was breathless from running all the way from my car. All I could get out between breaths was, “Puppy.”
She scoffed at my response but knew better than anyone that I was most likely telling the truth. I didn’t mess around when it came to animals, and I had a slight obsession with puppies. Mrs. Winters, the neighbor who lived below me, just got a new puppy, and it was the cutest thing I had ever seen. When I ran into her on my way out of my apartment after running home to change my clothes, there was no way I could not stop and let the fluffy white and black ball of fur jump all over me.
Hence, why I was late.
Rayna threw my apron at me like she did every morning, which I never caught. I picked it up from the floor and got my marching orders for the day.
“New flour delivery arrived yesterday, so we’re good to go for the Stevens’ wedding. I’m on cupcakes; you make the cake. They want stupid little red bowties and hearts, which means I’m out. They’ve already picked their cake toppers.” She threw a spatula my way, which landed on the counter. She never stopped throwing shit at me. Shit that so far I hadn’t caught once. She wrinkled her nose, ignoring my terrible catching skills, and continued her tirade. “Stupid ridiculous cake topper.”
“I’m on it. Did they decide if they wanted the red velvet or Belgian chocolate?”
“Both.”
The answer I dreaded the most. Why couldn’t people just make up their minds? It was easy. Pick one or the other. Now I had to get two different batches ready and decided which layer was which.
I knew it would be pointless to moan since Rayna would only take that as her God-given right to give me more work to shut me up.
“You look like death,” she said, eyeing my wonky ponytail and stained T-shirt.
I poked my tongue out at her. “And you look like you just stepped out from underneath a rainbow and bathed in glittery unicorn farts.”
Rayna threw a piece of dough that smacked me square in the face. “It’s the new shampoo. Does wonders for my hair.”
I removed the dough from my cheek, and we settled into work, silently passing ingredients back and forth. The familiarity of the tasks and working with Rayna finally calmed me down enough to sort through my head. Was I supposed to call Jameson? Would he want me to? Did I want to call him?
“Are you trying to make butter?” Rayna interrupted me.
“Butter? No, I—” One look at the bowl confirmed I had indeed been whisking the cream long enough to make butter.
“Honey, what’s going on with you? You never screw up a cake. You are good at it. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re almost as good as me, but you’re way off your game today.” She looked at the cake with a wince, and I followed her gaze. Fuck me sideways. That was definitely not white bows. And the chocolate was melting, making the frosting look like someone licked it. I must have forgotten to add the pudding mix.
“Shit, shit, shit. I’ll fix it. Don’t worry, you’ll have the cake on time. Promise.”
Rayna raised her brows but didn’t tell me that it was nearly impossible to fix what I had screwed up in the short time I had left. “You have two hours. Then I’ll have to deliver everything to the Boathouse.”
Now this was huge news. Under no circumstances could I screw this up for her. The Boathouse was the most exclusive wedding venue we had in town. It was also incredibly expensive. If you got a catering gig there you were set for life, not only because it would be worth a lot of money but because the exposure was priceless.
“The Boathouse? Are you serious? Rayna, that’s amazing. Who did you bribe to pull that off?”
Rayna laughed and batted her long eyelashes. “It’s all thanks to my incredible talent.”
And I believed it because she really was the cake whisperer. “I’m going to get this cake done. And it’s going to be the best cake I’ve ever made. I won’t let you down.”
And I wouldn’t because I could never repay Rayna for all she had done for me over the years. The countless nights she sat up with me after Mom died when I suffered from night terrors. All the times she helped me with my homework. Let me stay with her because Dad disappeared and I was too scared to stay at the trailer by myself. Uncle Des was still living in one of the nicer parts of Humptulips at that time. And his wife couldn’t stand me, so I never asked for his help. The feeling was mutual.
She squeezed my arm. “I know you won’t, sweetheart. I’ll drop everything else off and then I can give you a hand. Back soon.”
Rayna rolled out the trolley with all the cupcakes to pack it into the van she bought last winter. After too many melted deliveries, she finally caved and instead of carting around a million cooler boxes, she bought a van with built-in cooling. It was freezing cold, as I had found out a few weeks back when I had the task of staying in the back and holding on to the massive cake we made.
It didn’t take long for scrapes and dents to mysteriously appear on the chassis. Rayna vehemently denied any involvement, but she was a terrible driver. It was a miracle her cakes made it in one piece.
“Remember red means stop,” I said to her retreating back.
She waved her hand without turning around, and if I didn’t know better I would have thought her middle finger was slightly extended. I got back to mixing the icing, this time using the right ingredients. I had already made up the roses and rings that were supposed to go all over the cake. I was going to get this done, and Rayna would kick this wedding’s ass.
And I did it. After two burnt fingers thanks to the melted chocolate, nearly cutting off part of my hand, and pouring the cream all over myself, I did it. The cake was done, and it looked pretty awesome. Just in time to witness my greatness, I heard the back door open. Rayna was going to love this. “I kick some serious cake ass, Rayna. It’s a masterpiece. And I want a pay rise.”
“You’re already getting one in your other job.”
I froze midway through my victory dance, which included my signature move, the robot, and turned around. There stood Jameson in all his Jameson glory, wearing a tight black T-shirt with the Drake Garage logo printed on the front. His jeans fit entirely too well, and I fought the urge to hide under the counter. There were only three people who had ever seen my dance, and I had no intention of extending that circle.
“Jameson. What are you doing here?” I was out of breath from jumping around the kitchen.
“Can’t I just visit my girl?”
“Your girl?”
He grinned and stepped closer. For every step he took, I took one myself, but in the opposite direction. The kitchen wasn’t very big, and my ass soon made contact with the counter. Jameson kept going until his shoes met mine. His arms went on each side of my body, caging me in.
“I trie
d to call you.”
Fucksticks, my phone. I hadn’t seen it since last night, so it was very likely still at his place. “Don’t have my phone,” I pointed out unnecessarily.
“Figured, since you didn’t answer. Thought I’d check on you to make sure everything’s okay and bring you this.” He held out my phone. “Found it on the bed.” At that he winked at me.
I took the phone, careful not to touch him, because touching led to kissing. And kissing led to—nothing. Absolutely nothing. Because we were in a kitchen. At my place of work. “I’m in one piece, no limbs missing.”
How was I always feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush whenever he was around? I tried slipping out under his arms, but he anticipated my move, and I found myself pressed to his front, his arms now around me. And boy did I like it.
He lifted me up and sat me on the counter. “Better make sure of your well-being myself.”
I felt my legs being pushed apart, and Jameson stepped in the gap.
He pressed his lips lightly to my forehead. “Looks good to me.” Followed up by a kiss to my nose. “Perky as ever.” And then my cheeks. “Soft as always.” The corner of my mouth was next. “Addictive.” At the same time his hands slipped underneath my shirt, lightly tracing a line on my skin. “Life altering.”
A brush of his mouth over mine, and I was a goner. My hands sank into his hair, and I returned his kiss with a desperation that scared me. My legs went around him like they were dying to all along, and he was finally as close as he could get. Right where I wanted him.
“I guess you managed to finish the cake and started the party without me.”
Rayna’s laughter spurred me into action. I pushed a startled Jameson back and jumped off the counter. His shirt was covered in cream and chocolate, and his hair was sticking up.
I knew I definitely didn’t look any better if the strands of hair hanging around my face and the shirt that was still halfway up my torso were anything to go by. Before I got a chance to stutter my way out of this, Jameson put one of his trademark smirks on his face and held out his hand. “You must be Rayna. So nice to meet you. I’m Jameson.”
