"Mr. Harris must have a low tolerance too. He was definitely out of it." Blossom flipped the page of one of the magazines.
"Neither he nor I would have been at the bakery getting high if not for the two of you. By the way, I wanted crackers with my sardines. Where are they? There was a whole sleeve in the pantry the other day."
"Oops. I forgot to mention we were out." Blossom watched me with interest. "So, you and Mr. Harris?—"
"Whatever you're about to say?—"
"Can I finish?"
I tensed, shoving a piece of sardine-covered bread into my mouth.
"You and Mr. Harris looked mighty friendly when Manuel and I walked in. I guess you're getting along a lot better now?"
I avoided her eyes and focused on my food. "He's not as bad as I originally thought, and he has a somewhat good sense of humor." I shrugged.
"He's not bad looking, either."
I lifted my gaze, and Blossom arched an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"
"What wereyoudoing?" she countered.
"I was eating cake because my daughter was running late from an interview. Whatever you think you saw?—"
"What do you think I think I saw?"
"Time for this conversation to come to an end. Do you need me to help you with the planning?" I gestured at everything on the table.
Quietly smug, she smiled. "No, I'm good for now. Glad you're feeling better."
"I'll feel a lot better in the morning once I've had a full night's sleep." I paused. "Have you heard from Manuel how his father is doing?" Considering her teasing, I hated to ask, but I was curious.
"He texted me and said his dad had gone straight to bed, like you."
"That's probably best." I picked up my plate and went to pour myself another glass of water. Taking my food, I headed toward the door. "I'm going to my room. You're sure you don't need my help?"
"I'm sure. Get some rest, Mom."
"You too. Don't stay up too late working on wedding plans. We can figure out the seating charts and whatever else you have going on tomorrow, okay?"
"Thanks."
I strolled back to my room and kicked the door shut with the heel of my foot. Sitting cross-legged on my comforter, I bit into the peach.
The drugs had had an interesting effect on me once they kicked in. I had become aware of Jamison in pieces. Like the way his shoulders had relaxed out of their usual rigid line. His gray eyes were lighter than I originally noticed and observed me with blatant interest. The way he wrote his notes and graded the cakes. I could tell he took the whole process probably more seriously than necessary.
Then there was the almost-kiss. My body ached with regret. My core throbbed with unresolved sexual tension.
Sighing, I leaned back against the pillows and closed my eyes, the peach forgotten in my hand. I relived the moment Jamison touched me and the way the world narrowed to the small space between us. The next time I saw him, should I pretend nothing happened?
I had carefully dodged the conversation Blossom tried to have about Jamison, but there was no escaping the truth. The drugs had stripped away my defenses, but they didn't invent the feelings I had experienced.
I wanted Jamison Harris. My daughter's future father-in-law.
Thatwas a problem.
Chapter 14
Tallulah
