Page 45 of Last First Kiss

A dreamy sigh slips past her lips.

Jordan gestures with one arm to a hidden side door not far away. “And I thought, since you’re creating your own traditions…” He keeps his tone careful, hopeful. “Instead of Samwaiting for you at the end of the aisle, he could appear from over there. You could walk down the aisle together.”

Amy’s silent. Still as a statue. From beyond her shoulder, Jamie’s brow is pinched. Like maybe Jordan’s overstepped? Did he get the vision all wrong?

Hurriedly, he says, “Or we could stick with—”

Amy slices her hand through the air to cut him off. “No! I want that.Please. Make that happen.”

Jordan’s muscles relax. He avoids overanalyzing the way Jamie smiles at him by pretending to re-center a plant.

Amy spins on her heels. “Sam? You’re not saying anything.”

“I’m thinking,” he says, staring up at the glass roof.

Fondly, she says, “That’s never a good thing.”

He snorts as she marches over. Her arm hooks with his. “Let’s look around some more,” she suggests, tugging him toward the flowered arch.

Jordan stays behind to scribble notes on his iPad. Fresh ideas are simmering inside him. He doesn’t want to forget.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get very far.

“So…”

The voice comes from Jordan’s left. Jamie,again. Jordan almost drops his stylus in surprise, but quickly recovers.

“How long is this going to go on?” Jamie asks.

“What? Looking at the venue?” Jordan lowers his eyes to the iPad screen. It’s almost 6PM.“Do you need to leave for work?”

At any given time, Jamie works at four to five different bars around Atlanta. This, despite being the world’s worst bartender. Part of that is because Jamie’s never been a drinker. He has no idea how cocktails are supposed to taste. Denz once said Jamie stays employed because he’s easy to talk to.

That, and his smile. Which Jordan’s currentlynotstaring at.

“Nooo.” Jamie inches deeper into Jordan’s space.

Very casually, Jordan slides in the opposite direction.

“How long are you planning on not talking to me today?” Jamie clarifies.

“I just spoke to you.”

“Barely.”

“Twelve words isn’t ‘barely,’” Jordan argues.

From the corner of his eye, he sees the left side of Jamie’s mouth tick up. “Did you really just count how many words you said to me?”

“No.” But maybe he did.

Jamie laughs breathily. “You’vebarelyeven looked at me, Jordan.”

“Fine.” Jordan huffs before turning. “Here. I’m looking at you.”

It’s a criminally bad mistake.

From this distance, Jamie’s hairstyle is even more unforgivable. But the blues in his checked button-down bring out the rose undertones in his tan skin. The sun’s angle makes the hints of olive in his brown eyes pop. His bare chin is still weird, though. Jordan hasn’t seen his face this naked since they were teens.