Page 41 of The Heart Shot
With a nod toward the registers, he said, “I’ll be right back.”
Several minutes later, after struggling to finish my lunch, Jameson returned with a tray full of food—way more than one person should be able to eat. There were two containers of chicken nuggets, two large fries, and even a side of mac and cheese. And to top it off, every sauce available was neatly stacked on the side.
“I know you already ate, but I bought extra in case you were still hungry.”
And then he plopped a large cookies n’ cream shake in front of me.
“You seem like a cookies girl.”
Though I’d never admit it out loud, I was swooninghard.
“Thanks,” I said, wrapping my hands around the cup and suppressing a grin. “It’s actually my favorite.”
Jameson smiled, pleased with himself for guessing correctly.He dug into his chicken nuggets, dunking them into every single sauce, while I slurped away, daring to grab a waffle fry and dip it into my shake.
His brow arched as he watched me dip another one.
“Listen, I know it’s weird, okay? But it’s the perfect combination of salty and sweet, and it’s sheer bliss in your mouth. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.” Without thinking, I reached across the table and shoved the shake-laden fry into his mouth.He didn’t fight it, and it wasn’t until his soft lips closed around my fingers that I realized what I had done.
I just hand-fed Jameson.
His warm lips grazed my fingers, sending a jolt through me that lit up my insides. My cheeks burned, and I couldn’t meet his gaze as I yanked my hand away, covering it, and holding it beneath the table.
“Okay,” he said after swallowing, completely oblivious to my internal freakout. “I see the appeal.”
It took a second for my tongue to unglue itself from the roof of my mouth so I could squeak, “See? Not everything that sounds weird isactuallyweird.”
Jameson laughed, his hazel eyes bright. “Touché.”
Had they cranked up the heat in Chick-Fil-A or had my clothes caught on fire? Either way, I was overheating from the look Jameson gave me. I took another sip of my shake, trying to cool myself down. He continued munching away at his food. In that moment, I realized I liked that we were comfortable enough to let silence reign rather than pushing to keep talking.
That was one thing my ex always hated—silence. When we were together, I felt constantly compelled to keep conversation flowing. When I inevitably failed, he’d pop in an ear bud and turn on some sports show or finance podcast, saying it was my fault that I wasn’t keeping him entertained.
“This doesn’t count as a date, by the way,” Jameson explained after he had demolished his chicken nuggets.
It was my turn to arch my brow. “Then what do you call it?”
Jameson gave a coy smile. “When I take you on a date, you’ll know it’s a date. This is just…a spontaneous lunch. Unplanned.”
My stomach tightened at the implication of his words. “So, you’re saying I still have to go on two more dates with you in addition to this Chick-Fil-A demolishing session?”
“Is that really so bad?”
It very well could be.
I shook my head. “Just remember, I only agreed to three. Nothing more.”
Jameson sobered, setting down the fry that had been halfway to his mouth. “That might be what you agreed to, but we’ll see if you still feel that way by the end.”
My toes curled in my boots at his confidence.
“Yes, we will,” I murmured before slurping down the last of the shake. Desperate for a subject change, I said,“What’s up with Maya’s nickname for you?”
Jameson grimaced. “I went through a phase as a teen where I loved playing guitar. I’d jam out in the garage, playing for her and my sister. They started calling me Jam-Jam and, unfortunately, it stuck.”
I bit my lip to hold back a laugh. “Do you still play?”
“Not really. I think my guitar is somewhere in the basement, collecting dust.”
