* * *
Sophie and Zoeygave me their blessing before I left them, telling me that they’d be spending the evening prepping for Sophie’s interview, and that I should text them if I got into any trouble.
The cab pulled up to Jamie’s driveway around five-ten. I walked up to the house, scanning the area more thoroughly this time than the night after Flare. There were some cacti growing in the front yard, and a few neat flowerbeds that looked like they’d been worked on recently. A pair of garden gloves lay on the grass, dirty from the soil. The home looked inviting from the outside—arched windows, brilliant-white paint, and a clay-shingled roof. I never would have guessed that the notorious singer of the disbanded Ritual Disruption would live in a place like this.
I climbed up the three steps that led to the front door and paused with my finger hovering over the doorbell. My armpits felt sticky.
No need to be nervous.You’re just about to have sex. For the first time. With a man as hot as the damn sun.
I shook my head and pressed the button, hearing the bell ring on the other side of the door. A few seconds later, the door swung open, revealing Jamie in a black apron tied over his clothes. He looked down at me, his gray eyes gleaming with warmth. Then he did the most amazing thing. He scooped me up into his arms, pulling me to his chest, enveloping me with his fresh, masculine scent. He held me like I was some precious thing. Whatever worries I’d had about it being awkward seeing him again waved goodbye and left. I sank into him and wrapped my arms around his waist.
When he finally let go of me, his lips curved into a smile. “Hi.” His voice was a deep, seductive timbre.
“Hi,” I squeaked, shifting on my feet.
My gaze ran over him and registered the apron once more. Was he cooking dinner for us? In all the times I’d fooled around with Jack, neither of us had ever made that kind of an effort for each other. Is this how older people did booty calls?
I tittered, and his smile inched wider in response. “Come on in,” he said, waving me inside. “You look great, by the way.”
My neck felt hot. I wore a summer dress with an A-line skirt that reached just above my knees. Zoey said I looked cute in it.
“Thank you,” I said as I stepped over the threshold. There was no smell to indicate he was cooking anything. Maybe he’d forgotten to take the apron off after fixing himself some lunch earlier?
Jamie shut the door behind me. “I’m sorry for running out on you like that last night.”
I twisted my neck to look at him. “That’s okay.”
He nodded and stepped closer.
Here we go.
I closed my eyes, waiting for him to pounce on me, to strip me out of this dress, and tear through the piece of flesh I was so desperate to be rid of. That’s how these things went, didn’t they? With Jack, I’d come over, and we’d get down to business within minutes. Instead, I felt Jamie brush past me.
“Come on. I’ll show you some of the things I’ve been doing in my free time.”
Confused, I followed him into the kitchen. My eyes widened when I saw what was on the marble island.
“I thought we’d make sushi,” Jamie said, spreading his arms above the plates of fish, vegetables, rice, seaweed, and about a dozen other ingredients. “I didn’t know if you ate raw fish, so I have a bunch of other things we can use.”
I gaped at him. “Um. Okay.”
His excitement wavered at my reaction. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought it might be fun to try it.”
“No, no,” I rushed to reassure him as my brain caught up with the situation. “It does sound fun. I didn’t expect it, that’s all. You caught me by surprise.” Then after a moment, I added, “You tend to do that.”
His lips twitched. “Is that a good thing?”
“It’s not a bad thing,” I told him with a smile.
We got to work.
“You have to flatten the rice a bit with the spoon,” Jamie said, stepping closer to show me how to do it. My gaze caught on how his forearm flexed as he pressed down the utensil. Thick veins ran over his hand, all the way up to his elbow where they curved out of my view. I wanted to trace them with my fingers.
“Do you see what I mean?” he asked, handing the spoon back to me.
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “I think I got it. Where did you learn all this?”
He moved back to his spot beside me. “YouTube, mostly. There’s a spot a few blocks away, and I go there for lunch sometimes to watch the chef do his thing from the bar and pick up some new techniques.”
