And I want Rhett Cuglietta.
“For me?”
Jamieson grins as I place the slice of blueberry pie in front of him. “Just for you. Blueberries aren’t in season, but I saw these at the grocery store and thought it would make you happy.”
“You can’t be sad eating blueberries.” He immediately brings a forkful to his mouth and wiggles in his seat. “It’s amazing, as always. Thank you, Dee. You spoil me.”
That’s true. I spoil all my friends, but Jamieson is easy to please and I love to bake. I could feed him blueberry paste on a shoe and he’d be happy.
“How come you’re here alone? Is Griff working?” Jamieson’s husband is a social worker at the addiction facility nearby, and with Jamieson working as a high school teacher now, they don’t always show up with the rodeo gang. Although Jamieson still works in the summers at the rodeo school with Hunter, it’s not quite the same when he’s here as a former bull rider instead of a current one.
He misses riding. That much is clear, but he’s smart enough to not sacrifice his body for too much longer. Secretly, I think he wants kids and to horse around with them without needing painkillers every night. Leaving a sport behind because of injury has to be hard, but Jamieson makes it look easy.
“He’s out with his dad right now. He’ll be at Scrabble night, though.”
Our random game nights at Hunter and Gabe’s playing Scrabble was something we all fell into by accident one night here. Hunter, of course, had to challenge me with a word puzzle. When I beat him, handily I might add, it led to a marathon game of Scrabble at his place. The others all dropped in and before long, it was a fairly regular thing when schedules allowed for it.
“I’m trying a new dessert to bring to the next gathering. Figured I should try something a little more flashy. Something to really grab your attention, you know?”
Jamieson has inhaled the slice of pie while we’ve talked and sits back in his chair at my coffee shop and bakery, The Thirsty Cow.
“Why?”
“Why, what?”
Jamieson wags a finger at me. “Don’t do that. You know what I’m asking. Why are you changing things when we all love your brownies?”
“Can’t a guy bring some variety to his friends’ taste buds? Why always have the same thing?”
Jamieson smirks, like he caught me in a lie, and in a way, he sort of did.
“This is about that new bronc rider coming; Rhett, isn’t it?”
“Oh, there’s a new cowboy coming? That’s exciting.”
I feign interest and wipe down the table nearby.
Jamieson laughs at my attempt to be uninterested, but one thing about Jamieson is he’s very observant with me and the food I make.
“You wouldn’t change what you bring for no reason. You make the apple thing for Gabe on special occasions. Blueberries for me in the summer and brownies. It’s always the gooey brownies. You just gave me pie and I’m not aware of any special occasion tonight. Which means….”
Jamieson can sometimes be oblivious, but never stupid.
“I don’t even know if he’ll be there, Jamieson.” I sigh.
“Me neither.”
He raises his eyebrow, inviting me to elaborate, and I cave. “Is it so wrong to want to impress the guy?” I take a seat across from Jamieson and lower my voice. “He’s like…the cowboy version of Michelangelo’s David. Or…I don’t really know art, but he’s a work of art. He’s all dark and broody and hot.”
Jamieson laughs softly.
“I guess you have a type, then.”
“Have you met him?”
Jamieson shakes his head. “Not enough to judge him or anything. He stopped by once on his way home from a rodeo to meet with Hunter when I was there. He said hello.” He shrugs.“I don’t know about impressing people with food, Dee. Being yourself is good enough for me. I appreciate the pie, but you’re great without it.”
He’s such a sweetheart, and I love him to pieces.
