My phone vibrates in my hand, so I glance down at it as I rush forward, not wanting to miss the beginning of the next period, and run right into what feels like a brick wall.
But of course, as I look up, it’s not a wall at all, just two hundred pounds of solid muscle, by the feel of him.
“I’m starting to wonder if you’re following me,” I say as I look up at Jameson.
“Maybe I’m just getting lucky running into you so frequently tonight.”
“Or maybe you’re intentionally running into me.”
“Would you be mad if I was?” Jameson asks.
I break eye contact and glance around, noticing that the last few people here are headed back to their seats. I look back at him. “Depends ... on why you’re here every time I’m alone.”
He takes a step closer. “Why do youthinkI’m here, Lauren?”
I swallow. “Jameson.” I shake my head slightly, trying to clear up the confusion that always seems to creep in when he’s around. “I haven’t done this in a while. I could easily be misreading these signs. So I need you to be very clear with me ... what are you thinking right now?”
“I’m thinking a week is too fucking long to go without seeing you.” He reaches over and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, and his hand slips beneath my locks, resting on the back of my neck. I like the feel of his skin against mine maybe more than I should. “And I’m feeling like we started a conversation the other night on the phone that we still need to finish.”
Somehow, his answer tells me everything and nothing all at once. I’m about to clarify and ask him how he feels aboutme, when he adds, “How are you feeling?”
“Really confused. Jules and Audrey told me yesterday that you are to thank for my perfectly designed upstairs.”
He swallows, but doesn’t look away or say anything in response.
“How didyoudesign something that’s so perfectlyme?”
“Do you really think I don’t know you at all?” His voice is softer, more seductive than it normally is.
But how do you know me better than my husband ever did?That’s the question I want to ask, but I don’t know if I want to show all my cards like that.
“I think maybe you know me better than I realized,” I admit. “And maybe I don’t really know you that well at all.”
“So maybe it’s time to change that,” he says, and he pulls me closer, dipping his head so his mouth is next to my ear. Heat flames through my body at his proximity, and I want to step closer, press myself up against him. “But first”—his breath trails along my ear and into my hair—“go enjoy the game with your friends. We’ll talk later.”
CHAPTER13
LAUREN
I’ve just gotten home from the game, thanked Paige profusely for watching my kids, checked on my girls sleeping soundly in their new toddler beds, switched my leggings and boots out for fuzzy knee-high socks, and headed back downstairs to grab a glass of water, when the text comes through.
Jameson
How do you feel about dessert?
Lauren
Like as a food group? I feel pretty good about it, why?
Jameson
I have an enormous piece of tiramisu and need someone to share it with.
I could think it’s a coincidence he has my favorite dessert, but nothing Jameson Flynn does is a coincidence.
Lauren
Now???