Because that would be weird.
No matter how intriguing it sounds.
With a little too much force, I twist the knob to the off position and step out of the shower. Once I’ve dried off with a fluffy towel and redressed, I head down the stairs to see what Jamie is up to.
I find him in the kitchen sitting on a stool at the island. His back is facing me, but I can see his favorite coffee cup filled with steaming black coffee. As if he senses me, he turns and greets me with a smile as warm as a hug.
“Hey.” His voice is low and scratchy. It’s probably the first time he’s spoken this morning.
“Hi.”
I feel nervous for some reason, as if there’s been a shift between us only I can sense. I’m probably still shaken from last night. It’s definitely not because of how cute his hair looks rumpled from being pressed against his pillow, or the way his back muscles stretch as he turns back to sip at his coffee.
And why am I suddenly overcome with the need to reach out and touch him? The house feels chilly, and right now I’m craving the warmth of his skin against mine like the lick of a flame on acold autumn night. A shiver rushes down my spine and my arms pebble with goosebumps.
Get a hold of yourself, Raegan. This is your best friend you’re ogling.
When I look back, I’m momentarily entranced by the movement of his throat as he swallows, but as his cup hits the counter I snap back to focus.
Damn it! Stop staring at his Adam’s apple.
“How did you sleep?” he asks as I slip clumsily onto the stool across from him.
“Good,” I lie. Jamie doesn’t need to know about my demented avocado dream.
His lips press together like he wants to ask a followup question, but he diverts to a different topic. “I thought you might want to go grab a few extra clothes later. What time does he get off from the auto repair shop?”
‘He’ meaning Patrick. It seems Jamie has no interest in saying his name, which is fine with me. “One o’clock, I think.” The douche-canoe works part time at Reaper Repairs from eight A.M. to one in the afternoon, then he busts tables at Bones in the evenings. He’s typically home for a few hours before going to the restaurant, so we should have a window before and after when I can go to my building uninterrupted and grab my stuff. “Let’s go after breakfast,” I suggest.
Jamie nods and gets up to make a cup of coffee for me. “I think it’s best that you stay here this weekend. Just to let him cool off a bit. I don’t like how unpredictable that guy is.”
“Okay,” I agree. I think about my cat, but I know Cleetus will be fine on his own. I constructed a kitty door within the window that opens onto the balcony. From there he can make it to Mavis’s backdoor on the first floor where she feeds the neighborhood strays. As much as she might be annoyed with me,she’d never let a cat go hungry, and I’m grateful she looks out for Cleetus when I’m not home.
“But if you need to stay longer, you know you can.” Jamie pours a decent amount of creamer into my mug and sets it in front of me. It’s a medium shade of beige, just the way I like.
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary. Your warning was loud and clear.”
He stiffens as he sits back down, then looks me pointedly in the eye, the golden brown color melting away any nerves I felt before, just like honey.
“Listen,” he starts, “I’m sorry for how I–”
I cut him off by placing a hand around his as he clutches his mug. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m grateful you were there. You were right to go with me. Thank you.”
He lets out a huge breath, lips parting in relief. “I didn’t want to scare you with how I acted.”
“You didn’t. I promise.”
I see his shoulders relax and it brings me relief as well. I can tell how much this weighed on him, but Jamie could never scare me. I trust him irrevocably.
I sit up straight and change the heavy subject. “So, what do you want to do today?”
“Let’s just hang out,” he says, looking up from his coffee to meet my gaze again. “We haven’t done that in a while.”
A smile is the only response I need to give him.
Abruptly, my cell phonechimesfrom the living room. I get up to grab my bag, shocked that Patrick is still trying to call me, but when I finally see the screen it’s my mother.
I grimace and answer begrudgingly, “Hello, mom.”
