Page 25 of The Heart Shot
He glanced at the door. “However, she didn’t say she would immediately leave if I came.” Those hazel eyes pierced right through me. “I can go,” he offered, both a statement and a question.
Ishouldtell him to go. For multiple reasons. The practical side of me knew I needed to get work done, and there would absolutely be no brain-ing going on with him only a few feet away, staring at me. But besides that, I shouldn’t encourage him to stay when nothing would ever happen between us. It didn’t matter what kind of connection we had. I was sticking to my guns—I would not entertain the idea of dating him.
I didn’t answer right away, and his sunshine personality must have taken that to mean he could stay. His lips quirked into a grin. “Can I buy you a drink?”
I pointed to my empty glass that once held a beautiful, vanilla cold brew. “Already had one.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Would you like another? Or maybe a scone? A donut?”
Though he appeared calm and confident on the exterior, his rambling gave away his nerves, and I wanted to kick myself for finding it so endearing.
Instead of accepting his offer, I blurted, “Why are you here, Jameson?”
His smile slowly faded. “Like I said on the phone, I’d like to get to know you, Elsie. Even if that only means friendship.”
Yeah, right. Like we could ever bejustfriends.
“And if I don’t know what I want?” I didn’t know wherethatquestion came from.
“Then I’ll be here until you figure it out. If you let me.”
My stomach flipped. This was madness, complete and utter foolishness. I tried to picture my mom’s sobbing face, or my dad’s angry sneer the night they split, or the way Ben went from sweet in public to cruel the moment we were alone. I tried to remember all the reasons why I didn’t date, why I couldn’t take a chance on Jameson, or anyone. But when I closed my eyes, all I saw was that ridiculous dimple.It was like a dart poking through the balloon of my reservations.
Dang you, you stupid dimple dart.
I exhaled through my nose, hating myself for even considering it. It shouldn’t have been such a complicated thing. Getting to know each other as friendsshouldbe easy. Who didn’t want more friends? But as I studied his soft smile, the way his eyes glimmered in the dim light of the coffee shop, I held back a sigh. I could see it already—there would be nofriends.
I would fall for him. Hard.
I opened my mouth to shut him down, but instead I said, “I’ll take a caramel latte with a pump of vanilla. Decaf.” The last thing I needed after a giant cold brew was more caffeine, especially when Jameson already made my heart pound an irregular rhythm.
His responding smile was that of watching a child opening a box of puppies on Christmas morning.
“I’ll be right back.”
By the time he returned with a mug for me and a cold brew for himself, I had barely managed to talk myself out of panicking and running for the door. When I looked at Jameson, all I saw was a big, flashing neon X. A sign that meant I should run and not look back. A sign that said I would get hurt if I kept pursuing this.
And yet, I couldn’t move, couldn’t leave.
Jameson’s knees knocked against mine as he took a seat once again, and he smiled in apology, that dimple creasing his cheek.
Don’t look at the dimple, Els. Be strong.
The mug was borderline scalding as I wrapped my fingers around it. “Thank you,” I said, pulling it toward me, taking a big whiff of one of the best scents in the world: caramel coffee.
I peeked into his cup.
Of course, he drinks it black.
When I glanced back up at him, his brow was arched. “Something fascinating about my coffee?”
I gave a quick shake of my head. “Nope.” He continued staring, skepticism all over his face, so I added, “It’s just…of course you drink black coffee.”
His mouth spread into a bemused smile. “What’s wrong with black coffee?”
“How can you drink it without any sugar?” I stared longingly at my own drink. Sugar and milk with a dash of coffee was exactly how I liked it.
“It puts hair on your chest,” he deadpanned.
