Page 29 of Heart Strain

“Are you kidding me? This is freaking awesome! Where the hell did you get a chocolate fountain?”

Relieved, I move the table over as far as I can with it plugged into the wall, then sit close to Jameson on the floor, making sure I’m between the chocolate and my dog. “Drix’s attic. After you said something about them the other day, I remembered my mom setting one up for parties at the house, so I went searching.”

His wide eyes turn to me. “Thank you.”

I lift a shoulder. “No big deal. We’re doing everything out of order; after dessert, we can watch a movie, then I’m making you dinner tonight.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“We’ve been eating out or ordering in almost every night. And… I want to cook you something special, nice.” Did I seriously just say that out loud? I look away from him and stare at the chocolate, then suddenly jump up. “Oh crap, I forgot all the dipping stuff. Be right back.” I make a hasty retreat as my cheeks flame. Why the hell do I keep blurting shit out to him like that? When I come back with a big plate of marshmallows, pineapple, graham crackers, and a bunch of other things to dip, my heart is sorta under control. But then Jameson smiles widely with those lips that are trying to make me die a slow death, and my heart starts racing again.

“This is amazing, Holden. Thank you.”

“No prob,” I say as I sit beside him again. “Dig in.”

He looks like a kid in a candy shop as he grabs a marshmallow and holds it under the chocolate that’s finally flowing freely. I’m enraptured by him as he takes a bite of the big marshmallow. And when he pulls it away and hums in approval, all I want to do is lick off the little bit of chocolate that’s left on his lips. “This is so good.” His voice snaps my attention to his eyes, and I’m scared I’ve been caught staring. But he only smiles and asks, “Aren’t you going to try some?”

I clear my throat and nod. “Uh, yeah.” Grabbing a piece of pineapple, I dip it in until it’s covered in chocolate, then pop it in my mouth. I hum, too, because it really is delicious. I spend the next thirty minutes taking an astronomical amount of effort to not stare at Jameson’s lips. But I’m pretty sure he notices how many times his little hums and moans make me wiggle in my seat to adjust myself in my pants. Even though I’m a little uncomfortable in the nether regions, it’s worth it because he looks happy and calmer than I’ve seen him since that run-in with his family yesterday.

When we’re both stuffed and basically in sugar comas, I manage to get to my feet so I can clean up. Jameson grabs my wrist and whispers, “Let me.”

I do my damnedest to ignore the heat coming from his skin as I smile at him. “No, I got it.”

“But you set everything up. Let me clean up.”

Shaking my head, I manage to pull my arm away. “Let me do this for you.”

His green eyes stare into my blue ones for a few seconds, and I don’t know what he’s looking for, but eventually, he nods. “Thank you.”

I nod back, then drag my eyes away and clean up. When I make it back to the living room, Jameson’s on the couch with Peanut lying on his lap, and the sight makes me smile as I slide in beside them. With a grin, Jameson puts on a superhero movie I’ve seen a million times. It’s a good thing I’ve seen it before because I watch him more than the movie, so if he says anything about it afterward, at least I can contribute something. Every time he laughs out loud, I have to watch those plump lips turn up in the corners and light up his pretty eyes.

As soon as the movie ends, I say, “I’m going to start dinner.” I need to get away from him for a minute before he notices what he’s doing to me. Unfortunately, the sexy bastard follows me into the kitchen with Nala trotting behind him.

“What can I do to help?”

I point to a stool. “You can sit down and look pretty while I cook.”

His eyebrows go up a little. “I can’t help?”

“Nope.”

“When did you have time to buy all this stuff?”

“Uh… I woke up early, so I went out this morning before you picked me up.” What I don’t say is that I’ve been having trouble sleeping—no matter how long I run at night or how tired I am—and it seems to be getting worse every night. But that’s not his problem, so I keep it to myself.

He hesitantly sits on the stool and tentatively asks, “Why are you doing all of this?”

Blowing out a breath, I shrug as I get the ingredients out of the fridge. “You’ve been helping me since I got here, and… and I wanted to do something nice as a thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” When I look at him, I can tell he has something else to add, but he doesn’t say whatever’s on his mind, so I just shrug again and get everything ready.

“I made this marinade this morning and the tofu’s been soaking it up all day, so hopefully you’ll still like it even though you like eating animals.”

He laughs out, “Gross.”

I shoot him a grin. “Anyway, I’m gonna do some mashed potatoes and green beans, so hopefully you’ll like at least one thing.”

“Sounds delicious, even the tofu.”

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