Page 45 of On the Line

“You going to get that?” Paige asks.

“Why do I feel like you all know who’s at the door?”

Morgan shrugs. “Because we do.”

“What’s going on?”

“Get the door, Lauren,” Paige insists. Next to her, Jules wears the same smirk that I so often see on her brother’s face.

And when I open the door, Jameson’s standing there in joggers and a hoody. While most women go weak in the knees at a hot guy in a suit, that’s Jameson’s default. I’ve seen him that way a thousand times. But Jameson, casual like this? It feels like getting to see a private piece of him he doesn’t show to people—like he’s taken his armor off.

And because I have no idea what you even say to an insanely hot guy who shows up at your door unexpectedly, the first thing out of my mouth is “Aren’t you freezing?”

In my defense, it’s late-February in New England.

He steps up over the threshold, mere inches from where I’m standing. “I run hot.”

Holy shit, do you ever,my body screams. “What—” I stammer. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re going out.”

“I can’t—”

“You can. Jules and Morgan are going to put your girls to bed, and then Jules will stay until we get back. We won’t be gone too long.”

“What if—” I’m about to saythat’s not okay with me,but my girls come barreling into the entryway yelling, “Flynn!”

He squats down to their level before they get to him. “Jame-es-son.” He sounds his name out for them like he did when we were at his house for dinner, and they laugh when he boops them each on the nose. They try to pronounce his name, again with limited success.

He rests his knees on the ground and sits back on his heels, looking up at me from where my girls are now trying to climb him like he’s a jungle gym. “Why don’t you go put on something cozy? Leggings maybe?”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I look down at my wide leg jeans and fitted sweater, remembering how cute I thought I was a few hours ago when I put this on.

“Absolutely nothing is wrong with what you’re wearing.” His lips curl into that half smile that I see so often. “But it won’t be comfortable for what we’re doing.”

“And you’re not going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Nope.”

“Jameson,” I say, my stomach flipping over at the thought of going somewhere with him, just the two of us. “This sounds an awful lot like a date.”

“If I was taking you on a date, I assure you, you’d know it. This is just one friend taking another friend out to do something ... fun.”

I’m sure my face screws up into a look of skepticism when I say, “You don’t exactly sound like you believe this is going to be fun.”

He stands as my girls toddle off toward Graham, who’s now back in the living room, and takes a step closer to me. He sure does like to be in my personal space.

“I guess how fun it is will depend on how receptive you are to my activity of choice.” He leans down so his lips practically graze my earlobe, and with a voice so quiet it doesn’t even sound like him, he says, “Now run upstairs and change like a good girl.”

Heat flashes through my body so quickly I’m sure my skin is a brighter red than my hair, so I turn away quickly and head up the stairs. When I’m most of the way up, I glance down over my shoulder and he’s standing there, watching me walk away with that same self-satisfied smirk he wore last weekend at the Rebels game.

CHAPTER14

JAMESON

“Tell me we’re not at the Rebels practice facility for the reason I think,” she says as we come out of the tunnel and her eyes fly toward the ice rink. The only lights are the ones above the rink, everything else, including the stands behind us, is cast in dark shadows.

“I can’t do that,” I say as I drop the hockey bag from my shoulder to the ground. She jumps at the noise, and I steady her with my hand on her lower back. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

---