Page 74 of On the Line

“At a wedding?” she says. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Not at the wedding,” he clarifies. “After.”

Apparently, sometime after I fell asleep in his arms last night, exhausted from even more orgasms, he snuck out of bed and met my brothers to go have “a little chat with our friend Justin.” I knew nothing about it until I woke up this morning and the outside corner of his eye was purple and swollen.

“And why was he fighting with your ex-boyfriend from high school?” Jules asks me, her voice teasing, because she obviously thinks he got jealous.

“I was righting some wrongs, and making sure it never happens again,” Jameson answers before I can say anything.

“Like I told you this morning, that situation had been handled at the wedding. I don’t need you going around trying to save me, you idiot.”

“It wasn’t finished, because he stupidly said you were going to regret it.Nowit’s finished.”

“Looks like you got what you deserved for going behind Lauren’s back, though,” Jules says. “Want an ice pack?”

“He got aluckypunch in because he got loose when Lauren’s brothers were supposed to be holding him. Doesn’t matter, he’s never pulling that shit again.”

He glances over at me and I roll my eyes. I kind of love the way my brothers got along so well with him, but I’m not some helpless woman in need of defending, and I thought I’d made that clear at the wedding.

At least his bruised eye was an opening to a conversation about Justin’s past actions when we met my parents for breakfast this morning. Dad was furious that I hadn’t told them when it happened, Mom was disappointed that I “didn’t trust them” enough to say something sooner. I tried to explain that, at the time, I just wanted to move on and forget about it, but my dad was insistent that he didn’t want to have someone on his coaching staff who’d tried to attack a woman.

Jameson said that alone was worth the black eye.

“After all the fighting you’ve done on the ice, you should have been able to duck a little quicker,” I tease as Jules heads to the freezer for an ice pack even though Jameson didn’t say he wanted one. He looks like he needs it.

“What can I say? I’m getting slow in my old age.”

I almost joke that he was probably exhausted from all the sex but catch myself just in time. We’d agreed on the drive home that “taking it slow” meant we should probably keep this to ourselves for a bit while we figured out what a relationship would even look like between us.

“Where are the girls?” I ask Jules. Morgan said she was bringing them over in my car so they’d be here when I got back, but I think she just wanted to hang out with Jules and Audrey, and probably wanted someone for my girls to play with too.

“Downstairs with Morgan, Audrey, and Graham.”

“There’s a downstairs?” I ask.

“Yeah, we refinished the basement a few years ago. The front part is a walk-out and serves as my and Audrey’s office where we sometimes meet with clients and she does all her drafting. The back half of it is a kids’ playroom—you should go check out the climbing wall I built Graham while I finish getting dinner together. You are staying for dinner, right?”

“Uhh ...” My eyes meet Jameson’s and he’s clearly amused that I’m flustered by this invitation. It’s one thing to not tell his sisters about us, it’s another to try to pretend nothing’s going on while sharing a meal with them. “Sure, that sounds great. Thanks.”

* * *

I have no idea how we thought we’d be able to keep this a secret. I’m sure Audrey, Jules, and Morgan were already speculating about us before we returned from the wedding, and before we even finish the meal, it’s clear they know exactly what’s up. There are so many sideways glances being thrown around, even with Jameson and me at nearly opposite ends of the table.

I told myself it was better that we weren’t sitting next to each other, but after thirty-six hours alone with the man, I hate having him this far away. And that’s probably what’s tipped them off—because every time I glance over at him, our eyes meet, which means he’s doing a whole lot of looking at me too.

But how could I not stare at him? He’s got Graham on one side of him, and Ivy on the other, and he’s handling them both like a pro—answering all of Graham’s questions, and guessing the animals as Ivy makes the relative sounds.

He’s ... good with kids, supportive and sarcastic with his sisters, and incredibly patient with me. By all accounts, he’s perfect. For me, anyway.

His phone must start buzzing in his pocket because he takes it out and says, “Sorry, I’ve got to take this,” then rushes upstairs.

Audrey and Jules look at each other, then Audrey says, “Wow, it must be serious.”

But then the two of them and Morgan are staring at me. “So ...” Jules says, then glances at Graham. “You’re s-l-e-e-p-i-n-g with my brother now?”

At my instantaneous, beet-red reaction, Morgan says, “Well, that’s a yes.”

“Guys.” The word is a hiss. “I cannot have this conversation right now.”

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