Page 107
“No.” I pause. “Maybe.”
The Junction is busy for the evening, which is why I offered to pitch in when Bree texted after another server called in sick. Nothing can kill my good mood as I pile dishes to send back to the kitchen, swaying my hips to the music.
“Did Mr. Fix-It ask you out yet?” I call to my friend.
“Not exactly. But he’s stopped by twice to see if I need anything.”
I stop what I’m doing and spin to face her, grabbing her face between my hands. “Bree. He likes you. Even I know this.”
Her eyes narrow. “What is up with you? Wait, don’t tell me. Your dad apologized?”
“Nope.”
“You won the internship?”
“Nope.”
The bell dings over the door.
“Then—”
“She got railed by an Ashford.” Megan’s voice comes from the kitchen doorway. “Coffee?” She presses both hands together, pleading.
Bree gasps. “You’ve been holding out on me. Which one?” She puts out two mugs. “Theo.” She points to one. “Jameson.”
I roll my eyes and grab a third mug, pouring coffee into all of them.
When Megan started showing up at The Junction, there were territorial vibes. Then Bree fed her blueberry pie, Megan showed her some K-pop moves, and the hostilities dropped.
“Is it both? Preferably at the same time?”
“No.” Though it’s not the worst visual…
“Jameson’s been trailing her like a brooding puppy all month,” Megan fills in as she takes a mug and practically chugs it.
“He was almost dead after the race last weekend.” Megan shoots me a look. “To be clear, I would have killed him. Not the crash in Miami.”
“Got it.” Bree nods.
“But from your face, I’m guessing he did some prime groveling?”
My fingers slip on the salt and pepper shakers. “I think I have a rash on my back.”
Their eyes widen.
“From the hood of his car,” I add quickly.
“Damn. Way to go, Jamie.” Bree lifts her brows.
Each sexy, sweaty second has been replaying in my head nonstop in the day since. Last night, after I got back to Megan’s. As I lay in bed. When he texted me to say good night.
I do trust him—though he lied, I get why. And as hard as it is to let him in, to ask him to care about me beyond just what I can do for his car, the alternative is worse.
I used to think Theo’s attention was like being warmed by the sun. Jameson’s is like being watched by the moon and a thousand stars, each a silent, unflinching witness.
Everything he told me about his family echoed in my head. Growing up, I imagined having more family would make life better. From Jameson’s experience, it doesn’t. His father’s control, his mother’s desperation, all of it must have felt oppressive for a boy coming up in a world of expectations and scrutiny.
I can’t pretend to understand why he feels so responsible for Theo, but I respect his devotion. I also told him if he lies to me again, I’ll cut his balls off.
