There’s a beat—a pause that stretches on just a little too long. Louie’s growl hums low in the background, daring him to blink.
“Um—wow! That’s some pup you got there. What is she, part wolf?”
If I had a nickel for every time someone asked me that question, I could pay someone to stand next to me and answer it for the rest of my life.
“Heh, no, she’s just a mutt. German shepherd and husky, I believe. No one could ever tell us why she’s so big, but living out here, I’m glad I have her.”
Just kill me. This is so freaking awkward.
Jameson is tall and muscular in a bulky way. Like he never misses arm or chest day. The jury is still out on leg day. He has a well-kept beard, spacers in his ears, and a bright smile that radiates kindness.
He’s wearing a red-and-black flannel shirt and a corduroy sports coat—what I lovingly call the “Appalachian tuxedo.” Jameson looks like a lumberjack pulled directly from the cover of a ‘90s romance novel.
Leaner, nerdier guys are usually more my type, but I promised myself I’d keep an open mind.
Wait. Did he say …
“Reservations?” My stomach drops. “I thought we were just grabbing drinks at The Cardinal.”
Great. So much for a short date.
Jameson laughs, but it’s thinner now. “Right, yeah. I just … wanted to do something a little more thoughtful.”
He shrugs like it’s nothing, even though he clearly thinks itshouldbe something.
“It’s totally fine, though. We can do whatever you want. I just
figured … I don’t know, most girls probably would’ve appreciated the effort.”
Most girls?
I don’t respond. Just swallow the feeling and move on. I’ve been on enough bad dates to know when to lower my expectations.
But when Jameson’s hand slides to the small of my back, like muscle memory that shouldn’t exist, I go rigid.
I bend away from him as I close and lock the door, something I almost never do. Not in this town.
“Can’t be too careful, even with a guard dog.”
His hand on my back isn’t unwelcome, exactly. But it’s wrong. A puzzle piece forced into the wrong place.
Ezra’s hand on my back made my skin ignite. I wanted it lower, slipping under my waistband while he whispered dark promises in my ear.
But I feel like I know Jameson much better than Ezra.
So why does Ezra’s touch set me on fire, while Jameson’s makes me uncomfortable?
That’s not fair.
That’s it. I’m banishing Ezra from my thoughts, at least for a few hours.
But the more I try to forget him, the deeper he digs in.
This messy, tangled mix of rage and want makes meburnfor him.
There’s something seriously wrong with me.
Jameson leads me to his truck and opens the passenger door.
