Page 32 of Embers of You
“I think you’re cheating since there’s no way you’re this good at this game.”
“Don’t be a sore loser,” he taunts.
“I’m not going to lose.”
I’m most definitely going to lose.
That’s exactly what happens when the buzzer goes off, signaling Jameson as the winner. I groan in defeat, slowly turning to face him. He’s silently gloating, a smug smile plastered on his face.
“Alright, what ride are we going on?” I relent.
“I’m not sure, I think we need to walk around a little bit so I can figure it out.”
I narrow my eyes at him, but a deals a deal.
“Pick a prize,” the worker says, drawing both of our attention to him.
“You pick,” Jameson instructs.
“No, you’re the winner.”
“I’m already getting my prize; this one’s for you.”
I work to hide the blush creeping onto my cheeks, and pick a fuzzy looking teddy bear; the attendant hands it to me, and I hug it close to my chest. It’s perfect to keep my arms occupied so I don’t accidently do something stupid like try and touch Jameson because I can’t control myself.
Especially while we walk toward the small selection of rides. He keeps his hands in his pockets, with a light look on his face and doesn’t try to force conversation with me. I hug the stuffed bear tighter, as though it’s going to protect me against what I’m feeling and the way I’m somehow softening for the man next to me.
There’s some commotion in front of the tilt-o-whirl that draws both of our attention. There’s a group of five or six teenage boys, and at first it seems like they are just messing around with each other, but they continue to push at one of the kids in particular and it becomes clear that this isn’t just them playing around with some friends.
“Stop,” the kid complains; he looks smaller than the rest of the group, but they continue to antagonize him.
“C’mon, Griffin, don’t be a little bitch,” one of the other boys’ taunts.
“Stop it!” Griffin cries out again.
“Hold on,” Jameson says gruffly before stalking over to the group while I stay rooted in the same spot.
He approaches the group, immediately drawing their attention. His back is to me, and I try not to appreciate how his strong shoulders look while he stands tall, so sure and confident. When I hear him actually confront them, I hold my breath, waiting to see what his plan is.
“There a problem here, gentlemen?” Jameson asks.
“Just messing around, sir,” one of the bullies responds.
“What about you?” Jameson turns his attention to Griffin.
The boy looks down, appearing nervous about responding and I can’t tell if he doesn’t want to make things worse with the group, or if he really thinks they’re his friends and that this would ruin it.
“Where are your parents?” Jameson asks.
No one answers him this time.
“Okay, well, how about you all head home, or I’m sure I could find out who your parents are and have them come get you.”
“No, you don’t need to do that,” one of the kids says, sounding worried and they start backing away from Jameson. “We’re going.”
Griffin hangs back slightly, and I see him turn toward Jameson, a small smile pulling at his lips. I can’t hear him, but it looks like he quietly says, “Thank you.”
Jameson puts his fist out toward the kid, who bumps it with his own and I don’t know why the simple action makes me melt. When this sexy firefighter turns back toward me, the softness inhis gaze and that damn cowboy hat makes me feel weak in the knees.
