He wasn’t going anywhere.
And I had a feeling he didn’t mind the wait if it meant watching me walk away.
Chapter Seven
Eric
Jamie’s key refused to cooperate.
We stood on the front porch of her dad’s house, the lock stubborn under her increasingly frantic attempts. Her shoulders tensed, color creeping up her neck in that way that told me she was close to losing it.
“Easy.” I covered her hand with mine, stilling her before the key snapped. “Is there another way in?”
She huffed. “We could try the back door.”
I stepped aside to let her lead and immediately regretted it.
Watching the sway in her hips as she moved around the side of the house turned my focus traitorous. She’d been under my skin since the hospital, and she clearly wasn’t done settling in. Every line of her body claimed my attention whether I wanted to give it or not. And my mind twisted every word she said into unfortunate innuendo.
Try the back door, she said.
Yes. Fucking please.
I forced my gaze forward. Control mattered. Especially now.
She glanced back, caught me watching anyway, and rolled her eyes like she knew exactly what she was doing to me. Like she’d planned it. That only made the situation worse.
Nothing dulled the attraction. Not the house. Not her father. Not even the thought that she might have someone else—some asshole who probably didn’t deserve her.
Caleb talked a lot about living in the moment, but it had never been my style. Standing behind her at the back of the house, keys jangling, frustration humming in the air, I was starting to understand the appeal.
But I wasn’t here to make a move. I was here because she needed backup. Because this place came with history, and I wasn’t about to let her face it alone. Whatever heat sparked between us could wait.
Jamie shuffled along the back deck, checking under planters and along the windowsills for a spare key. I stayed where I was, breathing slow and controlled, locking down every instinct that told me to close the distance.
My gaze kept landing on her anyway. The glimpse of black lace at her hip when her shirt rode up. The curve of her breast when she bent forward. It was enough to test my discipline.
She muttered another curse under her breath, her shoulders taut and hands clenching.
Done waiting, I moved straight to the sliding glass door and pulled. The damn thing slid open without resistance.
We both froze. She stared at the open doorway like it might bite. I watched her instead, noting how she lingered at the threshold, reluctant to step inside despite nothing blocking her way.
What was she afraid of finding on the other side?
She’d warned me more than once to expect a disaster. I hadn’t asked why.
I also hadn’t asked about her relationship with her father. I didn’t need to. The fact that she didn’t know the state of his house, yet prepared for the worst, told me enough. More than she probably realized.
I wanted to ask anyway. I wanted details, context. Everything.
But this wasn’t the moment to pry.
“Well?” I stepped aside, motioning toward the open door.
“Yeah. Okay.” She sighed. “Let’s get it over with.”
She went in first. Her soft cry pulled me in after her, fast and alert.
