Page 16 of Jameson’s Salvation

And his fascination with her went beyond how impressed he was by her. He was simply enthralled. Jameson was definitely interested in her. He just wasn’t sure if he should act upon it. Jameson wasn’t relationship material. He never had been. He had major hang-ups about commitment and he was smart enough to understand where those issues stemmed from.

So while he’d like nothing more than another tour of the upstairs, this time one that included the master bedroom—complete with testing the thread count of Kennedy’s sheets—he wasn’t going to make a play.

He had no doubt she’d catch his play. There’d been a few times Jameson had caught her staring at him with blatant interest, but it was unclear what that curiosity entailed. He had no idea if she was a serious relationship type of girl on the lookout for a husband, or if she just wanted a roll in the sack and a good time. The former was a no-go, the latter he could provide in spades.

However, there was the small problem she was Nixon’s friend, and however loose that connection, he wouldn’t exploit it. Not even for dynamite sex and a taste of the pretty Kennedy Lane. And Jameson was sure the woman would be a great lay.

“Here ya go,” Kennedy said, handing him his whiskey.

“Thanks.” He waited for her to take her seat, then sat himself, trying to keep a respectable distance. “You don’t have a TV,” he observed.

“I probably sit in this room once a month if I’m lucky. I do have one in my bedroom but I couldn’t tell you the last time I turned it on. By the time I come in, eat, and shower, I’m normally too tired for much of anything else.”

Damn, did he understand that. Jameson wasn’t a big TV watcher either.

“When I say that out loud, it reminds me how boring I am.”

“Boring because you don’t numb your mind with TV?”

“No, because I don’t have a life. I do go out on occasion. I mean, I do have some friends, but most are married with kids, so luckily they can’t get out much either. I don’t know why it’s important to me that you know this, but I’m happy with my life.”

Jameson was more pleased than he should’ve been that Kennedy had opened up and given him that small truth, but he couldn’t deny the feeling.

“Why would you think that I’d think you weren’t happy?”

She sighed and he was beginning to see a pattern. When she was getting ready to say something that she thought would be embarrassing, she’d exhale and brace for ridicule. The gesture pissed him off. Not the act itself but the reason behind why she did it. Someone in her past had not been kind to her, and he didn’t think it was her dad. She was too fond of her home and the land for it to be him. She wouldn’t’ve tried so hard to save it if he’d been a dick to her. And it wasn’t her mother. Every time she spoke about her, love crept into her voice.

“Because my life revolves around work. But I’m fortunate enough to love what I do. I like working my garden and taking care of my bees. I love making honey and candles, and canning my vegetables. It may sound boring, or like I’m not ambitious, or I settled for this life because I didn’t have big dreams. But honestly, this is the life I always wanted. I enjoy a hard day’s work. I like to be a good steward to the land. I like selling what I make at the market. Everything I sell, I make or grow. I can look at everything around me and know each day I accomplished something.”

“I’m not sure who in your past made you feel like you weren’t ambitious, but I’d bet you get more accomplished by eight a.m. than most people do in a week. There’s nothing wrong with an honest day’s work accompanied by a shit-ton of elbow grease. I’m glad you’re happy, I don’t think there are many people who can say they love their job. But you can. I don’t think you’re boring. I find you interesting and I want to know more. I wanna watch you finish the demo work on your bedroom upstairs. I have a feeling you could teach me a thing or two about finish carpentry. As a matter of fact, Kennedy, I can’t remember a woman I’ve ever found more fascinating than you.”

Kennedy’s shy smile made his admission almost worth it, though he was mentally berating himself for revealing too much. He never should’ve told her he wanted to know more about her. He knew he was giving her the wrong impression and almost shot back his whiskey so he could once again hightail it away from her.

Good God, he’d turned into a pussy.

He watched as she took a healthy swallow of her drink and chuckled when her face didn’t scrunch up like most women’s did when they sipped whiskey.

“What’s amusing?”

“You obviously like your Johnnie Walker, you didn’t grimace.”

“I do,” she confirmed. “Now, when I shoot tequila that’s a different story. I was happy you didn’t choose Jose or I’d be making all sorts of funny faces and you’d think I was some kinda pansy-assed girl.”

“Babe, you’re a girl all right, but I wouldn’t say there’s a single thing about you that makes me think you’re a pansy.”

“You haven’t seen me drink tequila yet so you can’t say that.”

Jameson took his own sip and savored the warmth as it hit his chest.

“So what made you move to Kent County? It isn’t exactly a beacon for excitement,” Kennedy inquired.

Jameson was happy to see some of the shyness gone, but he didn’t particularly enjoy sharing.

“The short answer is, I moved here because of Nix.”

“And the long one?”

“How ‘bout we save that for a night filled with tequila?”