She cries too; we’ve been friends since high school and I can’t imagine how she felt getting a phone call about the break in. I would have lost my mind if I were in her shoes. We hold each other on the couch for, I don’t know how long, until she gets up to grab tissues. She comes back and wipes my face before heading towards the kitchen.
“I’m going to make you some hot tea and something to snack on, okay?” She doesn’t wait for my response, she knows me well enough to know that I need some quiet and my internal battery is dead at this point.
Anderson left earlier to check on Shaken Tropes and to get a temporary lock set up for the front door. I’ve never been more glad that my boyfriend owns a construction business.My boyfriend. Where the hell did that come from?
Twisting myself around on the couch, I refuse to acknowledge my own previous thought and I wiggle my toes in the plush rug that’s centered in my living room, appreciating the feel of normalcy before padding to the bedroom.
The sight in front of me stops me in my tracks, I can’t move as I let the scene in front of me play out. Jameson is on his knees, pulling the rug back into place. There is a small trash pail off to the side that must be holding broken items. My eyes shift to my dresser and note the missing items, ones I know I will miss tomorrow, but tonight, tonight I’m spent and focused on this man who couldn’t possibly be any more perfect than he already is.
“Hey, Babygirl.” His voice is like a balm, smooth and deep, coating me in comfort that I didn’t know I needed.
“Hey.” It’s all I can muster, but with him I don’t think I need to say anymore. He opens his arms wide and I press myself against his chest, letting the feeling of his body wrap around me and soothe the last bits of worry.
I know I wasn’t harmed during the break-in, but there is something about the vulnerability that comes with having someone in your home who isn’t supposed to be there, it was a traumatic experience no matter how my brain wants to spin it. I won’t pretend to be okay because I’m not. “He broke into my home.”
Jameson runs his hand up and down my back, before pulling back slightly and dipping his hand beneath my chin to lift my head. He leans down, kissing both cheeks that are now wet from silent tears. “He did, Babygirl, and you’re okay. I promise you, I’m not going anywhere until you tell me to.” He brushes a soft kiss to my hair and continues, “You may have to kick me out.” That earns him a small laugh. His lips are warm and soft as he presses a quick kiss to my forehead before folding me into his chest once more. “What do you need?”
What do I need? Sleep, I need to sleep this day away and start fresh tomorrow. I need to feel safe again. That’s when I realize that I’m safe, he is here with me. As if knowing, Paloma pops her head in.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She looks at Jameson then. “Are you staying with her tonight?”
He gives her a quick nod.
“Okay, then. I’m going to head home unless you want me to stay, babes?”
“You head home, I’ll be okay.” She waits a moment before coming into my room and giving me a kiss on the cheek and then she heads out, leaving me in Jameson’s embrace. I’m glad to have him here, my eyes lock on him as he stands, outstretching his hand for me to grab.
“Come on, Babygirl, let’s get you to bed.” Grabbing his hand, he pulls me into his side and walks over to the side of the bed I always sleep on, near my nightstand. “Get in the bed, Baby.”
This man tucks me in and looks at me with, not a look of pity, but one of care. Like he sees my needs and just wants to attend to them, the softness in his eyes wells tears in my own. I watch his hand reach out, his thumb wiping away the tears from my cheeks before they can drip onto my pillow. His calloused fingers send shivers down my back, goosebumps erupting all over my body as he tucks my hair behind my ear. Leaning down, he kisses me with such tenderness that if I was standing, my knees would have buckled. No matter how much I want the kiss to continue he backs up just a bit and a yawn creeps out of my lips.
Crawling in behind me, he pulls me against his hard chest and that’s all the safety I need before I let sleep take me.
My arms shoot out to my sides, my chest rising and falling at such quick bursts as the fire alarm blares from the kitchen.
“What the fuck?” I grab my phone, my panicked gaze scans the screen for the time. It’s seven in the morning and the spot where Jameson was sleeping is empty, that’s when I smell it. Something is definitely burning, but it’s not my apartment.
I throw the covers back and rush down the hallway towards my kitchen to find Jameson frantically waving a towel at the fire alarm. “Shit, shit, shit, shit. Why me, Lord?” His deep voice is a murmur. Whispering is useless because the whole neighborhood can probably hear the alarm.
The counters may be clean, but bowls and a few pans fill the sink from what I think may be an attempt at making me breakfast. I cover my mouth, holding in the laugh I want to letgo of so badly, but I have to see how this plays out. Holding my phone up, I snap a picture. There looks to be pancakes still in the pan that are so burnt and crispy, they could be used as frisbees.
The alarm finally stops blaring and he throws a towel over his shoulder before he turns around, catching me leaning against the wall watching the chaos ensue. My eyes go straight for my lavender fuzzy bunny slippers that are several sizes too small for his feet and his black boxer briefs, that would be incredibly sexy if not for the slippers. Though, if I’m being honest with myself… it’s still pretty hot.
“After the night you had, I wanted to make you breakfast, so I got up a little early, but I’m no chef. Clearly my talents lie elsewhere.” He laughs. “I promise I’ll clean up the kitchen while you’re getting ready. I need to get you fed.”
That’s when I let it out. Theguffawfalls from my mouth as I bend over, clutching my stomach in an attempt to breathe.
“Oh, you think it’s funny huh?” He teases, rounding the counter he scoops me up in his arms and places me on the kitchen island before wiggling his fingers and tickling my sides.
“No, God, please.” I laugh even harder, tears pricking at my eyes from the laughter pains.
Wrapping my legs around his middle to ground myself, I grab his hands as he slowly releases me. Placing both hands on the countertop, one on each side of me, caging me in.
“I don’t know what’s funnier. You setting off the fire alarm and almost burning my kitchen down with pancake mix or you in my too-small slippers.” I take another peek at them, he has on the bunny ones that have floppy ears attached to the front and there is a fluffy ball at the back. Which is supposed to be a tail somewhere beneath the rest of his foot. “I can’t take you seriously with those on,” I say through a snort.
“They were all I could find, my socks have been eaten by the rug because they are nowhere to be found.” Even over the burntpancake smell, his warm bourbon cologne pulls me in as I run my fingers up his forearm.
“And what might have happened to your clothes? No apron?” I jut my thumb back to where my canvas apron hangs. He moves to the apron then, sliding it over his head before he looks down and reads SLUT FOR BACON in all caps with bacon slices surrounding the words.
