The honesty of it made Jamie’s stomach flip. “Five stars. Might need a defibrillator.”
That earned him a laugh, low and warm. Sloane retrieved their plates like he hadn’t just scrambled Jamie’s entire nervous system, settling back against the headboard with maddening calm.
Jamie picked up his fork with hands that definitely weren’t steady. The eggs had gone lukewarm, but he barely tasted them anyway. Every nerve ending still sparked from that kiss, skin hypersensitive like he’d been struck by lightning and survived to tell about it.
The thought of leaving made something twist in his chest. Which was ridiculous. He’d known Sloane less than twenty-four hours.
“Thank you,” Jamie said again, setting his fork down. “For breakfast. And for not leaving me on a park bench. And for...” He gestured vaguely. “Being decent about all this.”
“Not exactly a hardship.” Sloane collected their plates, stacking them neatly. “Having you here.”
The words were simple, but something in Sloane’s tone settled over Jamie like a claim. He needed to leave. Needed distance to think clearly, to remember all the reasons getting involved with anyone right now was a terrible idea.
“I should probably...” Jamie stood, tugging his jacket straighter. “Would you mind taking me home? Unless you’ve got things to do. I can call someone—”
“I’ll take you.” Sloane rose too, movements fluid. “Just need to grab my keys.”
Relief and disappointment warred in Jamie’s chest. He wanted to stay, wanted to explore whatever this thing between them might become. But wanting had gotten him into trouble before. Better to leave now, while he still could.
Even if every cell in his body protested the decision.
Chapter Four
Gray clouds pressed against the horizon, blocking the sun. Through the windshield, Jamie watched the sky darken, transforming the mountains into shadowed silhouettes. Thunder rumbled somewhere distant, a promise held back.
Sloane navigated the switchbacks with practiced ease, hands relaxed on the wheel. Each turn revealed another layer of forest, pines crowding close to the asphalt. The Charger hugged the curves without effort, engine purring through the climbs and descents.
Jamie watched the landscape blur past, trying not to think about how natural Sloane looked behind the wheel. Or how the gray light softened his profile. Or how Jamie’s stomach still hadn’t settled from that kiss.
“You okay?” Sloane asked, glancing over.
“Just admiring the scenic route to my inevitable embarrassment.” Jamie slouched lower in his seat. “Fair warning. My apartment makes this car look like a palace. Actually, a shoebox would look like a palace compared to my place.”
“I’m not judging your apartment.”
“You say that now.”
Another switchback, this one tighter. Trees pressed closer, branches reaching overhead like gnarled fingers. The road dipped and rose, winding down from whatever mountain paradise Sloane called home into the valley where Jamie’s reality waited.
With every mile, his anxiety ratcheted higher. What if Nick had left dishes everywhere? What if yesterday’s laundry still decorated the couch? What if William had somehow broken in and was waiting there like a nightmare made flesh?
Gradually things looked more familiar. “Take the next left. Then it’s about two miles straight.”
Sloane followed the directions without comment, turning onto a street where the houses shrank from sprawling to modest to “we’re doing our best here.” His building sat at the end, a brick structure that had probably looked decent in the eighties. Now it just looked tired.
“That one. Third floor.” Jamie pointed. “The one with the sketchy fire escape.”
Sloane pulled into a visitor spot and killed the engine. Silence rushed in, broken only by the tick of cooling metal and distant traffic.
“Thanks for the ride.” Jamie’s hand found the door handle. “And everything else. You really didn’t have to—”
“I’ll walk you up.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“I know.” Sloane was already out of the car, rounding the hood.
They climbed the stairs together, Jamie’s pulse thundering louder with each step. This was fine. Sloane would see the door, maybe nod politely, then leave. No big deal. People saw other people’s apartments all the time without forming judgments about their entire existence.
