Page 28 of Heart Strain

11

Holden

After having Jameson open up like that to me yesterday, I sorta want to do something nice for him. He’s been here every step of the way, and has gotten me out of my head and grief so many times I’ve lost count. So I figured I owed him one—more than one. He really wanted to have Peanut, Simba, and Nala meet, so I planned something we could do at home—well, his home.

We stop at my parents’ old house so we can pick up Peanut, but I convince him to wait in the car while I grab everything. With Peanut on his leash and my million bags of supplies, I head out to his car. When I open the passenger door, I ask, “You sure you don’t mind him in your car? I can drive mine and meet you there.”

“I don’t mind a little dog fur.”

“There will be drool. Lots and lots of drool.”

He chuckles. “Get in the car, Holden.”

I shoot him a smile, then open the back door for Peanut. He jumps in and immediately lunges for Jameson, who laughs and pets Peanut as he gets attacked by dog kisses. Once my dog is all buckled up, I set my bags on the floor of my seat and slide in even though I barely have room for my feet.

Jameson eyes the huge amount of stuff I have on the floor and says, “What’s all that? Are you and Peanut moving in?”

I snort. “You’ll just have to wait and see, Foxy.” He grins a little, then points the car in the direction of his place. When he pulls into his driveway, I ask, “Can I run these bags in first so I have both hands free?”

“You think Peanut’s going to be crazy?”

“No, but I don’t want to take a chance.”

He nods and reaches for the bags I’ve started gathering. “I’ll take them in.”

I pull them away from him. “No way. You’ll peek.”

He rolls his eyes amusedly and says, “Fine, here,” as he passes me his keys.

Grinning, I get out of the car. “Thanks. Be right back.” I drop everything off on the kitchen counter, then rush back out, giving Nala a scratch on my way since she came to explore. Once Peanut’s out of the car, we all head inside. Both cats are on the counter, inspecting my bags, but when Jameson goes over there, they both focus on him, and he pets and baby-talks to them. And of course, all I can do is focus on his ass as he bends over to give them kisses. His ass looks firm and hella muscular in those tight jeans, and when he leans farther forward, I have to hold in a groan. Because basically, everything this man does makes me want to jump him. For fuck’s sake, Holds, get it together.

Clearing my throat and shaking off the inappropriate thoughts—or trying to, anyway—I lead Peanut closer to the trio in the kitchen. Peanut wags his tail as we approach, but he stays by my side. I’m relieved he’s not pulling me, and when he seeks out attention from Jameson instead of trying to get to the cats, I know everything will be fine.

“Hey, buddy,” Jameson says as he turns to lean his hip on the counter, petting Simba with one hand and Peanut with the other since Nala is leaning over the edge of the counter trying to get a good look at my dog. Jameson looks at me with a smile. “He’s being so good.”

“He loves other animals, and I think he missed you.” I shrug, not really sure why I said that, but knowing it’s probably true. “Why don’t we take them into the living room so they can sniff each other out?”

He nods and scoops up one kitten in each hand, then follows Peanut and me into the living room. I sit in the middle of the floor and have Peanut lie down beside me, and Foxy sits with his back against the couch, then he releases the kittens. It doesn’t surprise me that Nala’s the first one to come close. She seems to be more curious than Simba, and luckily, Peanut’s trained well enough to listen to my command to “stay.” He’s lying there with his head on his paws as Nala starts sniffing his face. Only his ears and eyes move, following her as she gets braver, and when Simba follows her lead, Peanut watches him. He’s been around plenty of cats before, but I can tell he wants to play with them, so I give Peanut a nod and say, “Okay, bud,” and he lifts his head to start sniffing them back.

When Peanut licks Simba’s face, Jameson and I chuckle because Simba looks completely offended, shaking his head out and flicking his paw. Jameson looks at me and says, “I think they like each other.”

“Me too.” I pet Peanut and the cats, and after another few minutes of exploration, the cats both trot off to find something more interesting, so I tell Jameson, “I think they’re fine, but I’ll keep Peanut on the leash for a bit in case he gets in their faces or anything.”

Jameson holds his hands up and shrugs. “This is your thing, so do whatever you think.”

“Once we’re here for a while, I’ll let him off the leash. But I have to take care of a few things. You have to stay in here. No peeking.”

He narrows his eyes at me and purses his lips—those fucking lips—like he’s thinking about it, then blows out a breath with a small grin. “Fine. I won’t peek, but I can keep Peanut in here with me.”

I grin and pass him the leash. “Awesome. Thanks.”

I get everything ready, put some things in the fridge, then head back out into the living room. As soon as Jameson sees what I’m carrying, his eyes go wide. “Is that what I think it is?”

“If you think this is a tiny chocolate fountain, then yes, it is.” I smile widely as I set it down on the end table and find a plug. “It’s gonna take a minute to run. Can I drag the table into the middle of the floor?”

“Sure.” He’s still looking at me with wide eyes, and for a second, I think that maybe I did something wrong, so I stop moving the table and frown at him.

“If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to.”

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