Page 93 of Doctorshipped
Shannon and Jayme lean in and say something to one another. Shannon stands and says, “I’ll meet you over there.”
Jayme turns around to face me. We’re the only two people on the bleachers now, save for a few people still collecting their belongings down toward the other end.
“Are you okay?” Her eyes look sincerely concerned.
“Fine. Are you?”
“I’m great. We won! And Shannon’s home.”
I resist the urge to mock her over the way the smallest things delight her. I actually envy that quality—crave it. Not that I want to turn into some happy-go-lucky court jester. I crave the lightness that is Jayme. I crave her. And now, I’m probably lusting over another man’s girlfriend. I need to get a grip.
The bleachers clear out completely. We’re alone now, just me and Jayme and this potentially awkward reality.
“I think I’m going to head home. I’m not big on …” I wave toward the other field.
“Water fights? From what I recall, you’re very adept at those.”
She’s got this teasing look in her eyes.
She repeats, “Very adept.”
Her eyes sparkle with mischief. Her gaze flicks down to scan my torso and back up to meet my eyes.
Is she flirting with me?
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
“Really? Because the way I remember it, I landed in a swampy mud puddle and you had to rescue me.”
“My pleasure.”
A soft warmth begins to spread across my chest. The places that were all bound up during the game start to loosen.
I’m a forthright man, a trained problem solver, and a person of action by nature. I don’t need to leave details up for grabs. I can ask questions and get answers. Either Jayme’s romantically involved with Brooks, or she’s not. I need to know.
“So, those photos?”
Jayme shakes her head, then drops her chin and looks away as if she’s embarrassed.
“I wish you hadn’t seen them.”
“Why not?”
“For one thing, they give you fodder for relentless hours of teasing. And for another, well, they were from the photo shoot I was telling you about for my books. It was all Ella Mae’s idea.”
“To get you and Brooks to show off your relationship on social media?” I have to know.
Jayme laughs. “Oh my gosh! No!”
She’s still laughing and each peal of her laughter draws me closer. I stand, and without much thought, I smoothly step down so I’m seated next to her.
“No, you didn’t want to show off your relationship? Or no, there’s no relationship to show off?”
Jayme’s eyes widen with surprise at my sudden nearness.
Her voice comes out breathy. Her gaze never leaves mine. “No relationship. We’re just friends.”
The words are barely out of her mouth before my hand is cupping her cheek, holding her in place. She doesn’t gasp in horror or shock, like I imagined—even feared—she would. Instead, she leans into my hand, her raw vulnerability on display as always, never hiding behind guile or playing games.
