“Pack a suitcase!” Callie called after her.
“You brought a suitcase.” Jameson looked far too happy about that.
Just inside his door, she set the suitcase down in order to properly greet Slim, who kissed her with way too much wet, floppy tongue. “Ew. You’re such an eager guy—but I’m glad to see you, too.” She petted him and scratched his ears and then grabbed the suitcase and rose to her feet. “Callie insisted. What could I do?”
He pulled her close. She dropped the suitcase again as they indulged in a toe-curling, bone-melting kiss.
When he finally lifted his head, he said, “Come on. I’ll help you unpack.”
“Down, boy.” She flattened a hand on his hard chest. “You stay out here. If you go in that walk-in closet with me, we might never come back out.”
“And that’s somehow a bad thing?”
She bent and grabbed the suitcase again. “I’ll be quick.” He had that look, like he intended to follow her. She pointed a finger at him. “You be good.” And she headed for the master bedroom.
When she emerged a few minutes later, he had a glass of wine waiting on the kitchen island for her. She cut up a salad, and he served the meatball stew he had ready on the stove.
The food was delicious. “You’re a good cook,” she said as she spooned up another yummy bite.
He shrugged. “My ex-wife didn’t cook. One of us had to do it.”
She wanted to ask about the ex. But it seemed like a bad idea to go down that road. Too serious. Too much the kind of thing people talked about when they were building a real relationship. She and Jameson weren’t building anything. Uh-uh. They had fun together and it was just for the summer and she needed to keep it light. So she teased, “And here you are, spending your nights with another woman who can barely boil water.”
“Lucky for you I know my way around a kitchen. It’s a long drive into town just to pick up a pizza.”
“Where’s Grubhub when you need it, huh?”
“Exactly. I did have a cook for a while, but that didn’t last. So I do it myself. And I eat at the main house a lot. It all works out.”
She enjoyed a spoonful of stew and felt a little bit guilty. “I’m monopolizing you the past few days.”
His boot touched hers under the table. Even through two separate layers of rawhide and their socks, she felt that contact acutely. “It’s not considered monopolizing when I want you here.”
“Yeah, it is. You may be happy about it, but I’m still monopolizing you.”
He toasted her with his longneck. “I’m so glad we cleared that up.”
She probably shouldn’t ask, but somehow the question got out anyway. “Your parents, your brothers? Have they noticed that my Subaru has been parked in front of your house every night this week?”
“I have no idea. They haven’t mentioned it.”
The doorbell chimed.
Now what? It occurred to her that she hadn’t thought this thing through.
Spend every night with Jameson?
Yes, please! But nobody can know that we’re having a thing.
All righty, then. What happens when the doorbell rings?
She had no idea, because the thought of the doorbell ringing had never so much as crossed her mind.
Jameson chuckled as he stood. “You aren’t going to run and hide under my bed, are you?”
“Am I being ridiculous?”
He’d started toward the door but stopped and turned back to her with a tender, questioning look. “You know, you—” The doorbell chimed again, cutting him off. “On my way!” he shouted, then said gently to her, “I’ll be right back.”
