The whole room screamed cozy Christmas, and I was in complete shock.
Who was this man?
“Jameson?”
“Second door on the right down the hallway is my gym; feel free to throw on my boxing gloves and beat the shit out of the bag; just picture my face, and I’m sure all your aggression will melt away.”
“Huh?” I spun around on my heel.
He was in the kitchen, adding water to the kettle before setting it down on the stove burner.
“That pent-up energy you mentioned, take it out in my gym, down the hall on the right.” He reached for the “Baby, it’s cold outside” hand towel and turned his back on me.
My heart dropped, and the butterflies that normally made me anxious with annoyance revolted against me, serving up a dose of medicine of my own doing.
I rested my camera bag and keys on the kitchen island and swallowed the distaste of unease. “I’m sorry, Jameson.”
He re-hung the towel over the handle on the stove and turned to face me. Notably absent were any of his usual tells. The expression flanking his features was noticeably somber.
“We’ve butted heads for so long that honestly, I barely recognize myself anymore when I’m around you?—”
“The door’s right behind you.” Jameson crossed his arms over his chest, causing his muscles to stretch the white fabric of his T-shirt covering his biceps.
“I don’t want to leave . . . I’m not proud of my recent behavior, but I will do better moving forward. I’m sorry, Jameson, truly. You’re a great man, hardworking, and well-respected. You don’t deserve how I’ve treated you lately.”
“Careful, Ari, it almost sounds like you’re giving me a compliment?” The corners of his mouth tipped upward.
“I—” Was saved by the kettle whistling to signal the water had finished boiling.
“Hot chocolate with Bailey’s?” he asked over his broad shoulder.
“I’d love that, thank you.”
“Make yourself at home; I’ll join you in a minute.”
I grabbed my camera and moved into the living room to appreciate his tree.
“How did I miss your obsession with Christmas all these years? Your living room is what Pinterest dream boards are made of.”
“Honestly, the only people who knew for the longest time were my parents, Jaxon, and Ford. Boden and Lakelyn have since been added to the shortlist; only because they live across the street and can see the tree through the front window.”
“How?” I still didn’t understand how Mr. Social Butterfly and self-described ladies’ man had kept this secret hidden.
“Despite what you might think, I’m a private guy.”
“I’m only just now getting a sense of that. So, you didn’t go all out when you lived with your brother?”
“Nah, I kept the holiday spirit isolated to my bed.”
I choked back a laugh, nearly spitting out my hot chocolate on his pristine white couch.
Jameson leaned into me and patted my back. “You good?”
Why did the man have to smell so darn good?
“Yes, thanks.” I felt my cheeks heat with embarrassment.
“It’s not as naughty as you’re thinking.” He smirked. “My mom bought us all Christmas flannel bedsheets when we were kids, and it was just something I looked forward to every November. What were you thinking I was going to say?”
