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His brow furrows. “I assumed your date was canceled when I came home and you told me that Molly got drunk here.”
My gaze wanders to the coffee table, but the empty wine bottle and glasses are gone. “You know what they say about assuming anything, Jameson.”
“Are you calling me an ass?”
I nod. “Molly came over after my date.”
His arms cross his chest. “So you’re telling me you went on a date with this so-called gentleman, then came back here and tossed back a bottle of wine with Molly before you agreed to fuck me?”
I glance toward the hallway to make sure Stevie is still in my room. “There’s nothing so-called about him being a gentleman, and my agreeing to sleep with you had nothing to do with him.”
“It has everything to do with him,” he argues. “I don’t want you to fuck someone else while I’m fucking you, Sinclair.”
I smell the flowers again, keeping my gaze on them. “Who said anything about a threesome?”
I have to steal a glance because I know the expression on his face will be priceless. I’m not wrong. He looks both perplexed and pissed.
He’d be ashamed of his reaction if he only knew who the man that sent the flowers was.
“Sinclair.” He drags a hand through his hair, leaving it in this messy-but-sexy state that makes me want to crawl up on him again. “I want us to happen, but it can’t if you’re serious about this other guy.”
I shove the flowers back at him, plucking the envelope out while I do.
I skim my fingernail over the seal to break it before I slide the card out. I read it to myself before I do it again out loud. “Miss Morgan. Thank you for an evening to remember. In all my eighty-three years on this earth, I’ve never met a more charming young woman.”
I tap the card against my palm as Jameson swallows hard.
“It’s a book thing, isn’t it?” He asks with a sigh. “It wasn’t a date. It was a work meeting, right?”
I nod. “Something like that.”
“Jesus.” He barks out a laugh. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”
“Plenty,” I shoot back because that’s always been my response when he has asked any variation of that question.
“Jealousy,” he whispers. “I was jealous, Sin.”
Before I can say anything, I hear Dudley barking and soft footsteps heading down the hallway.
I glance to the left to see Stevie racing toward us, wearing the same clothes she was in last night. “Good morning, Auntie and her BFF!”
“Morning,” Jameson mumbles.
“Good morning.” I turn my attention to her. “Are you ready for breakfast?”
She nods. “I’m ready for blueberry pancakes, but first, I want to take Dudley for a walk. When Daddy brought me here yesterday, I saw a smoothie place around the corner. Maybe I can get one?”
“You bet.” Jameson pats the center of my back as he brushes past me. “I’ll take you and Duds for a walk. We’ll pick up three smoothies. It’ll give your Auntie time to get dressed and start breakfast.”
“She doesn’t cook pancakes,” Stevie whisper shouts.
“Yes, she does.” I laugh. “Do you have any other requests, Miss Morgan?”
Stevie smiles. “Please make my pancake in the shape of an owl.”
Shaking my head, I grin. “I’ll do my best.”
“I’ll help as soon as we’re back,” Jameson says. “In the meantime, put the flowers in water, Sin. The gentleman who sent them wouldn’t want them to die.”
Stevie rushes toward me. “Those are beautiful. What gentleman sent them to you? It’s not someone you kissed, is it?”
“No,” I answer quickly. “It’s not like that, Stevie. He’s helping me with a special project.”
“Phew.” She wipes a hand over her forehead. “Jameson is the only gentleman for you, Auntie.”
I open my mouth to argue that point, but Jameson doesn’t give me a chance. “Let’s go, Stevie. Our smoothies await.”
I meet his eyes with mine and when he offers me a soft smile, I can’t help but do the same.
“We’ll be back soon, Sin.” He reaches for Dudley’s leash. “I’ll get you a pineapple mango smoothie. It’s still your favorite, right?”
I nod. “It is. It’s always been my favorite.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Jameson
I stroll into the lobby of the building that houses Carden Confectionaries. Unsurprisingly, the only person in sight is the guard behind the reception desk. On any given weekday, there are a handful in sight, guiding people toward the bank of elevators and checking security badges.
Since it’s Sunday afternoon, a guy who looks half asleep is manning the post alone. He should be home watching football, but a few corporate types always decide the weekend is a great time to punch the time clock in pursuit of the almighty dollar.
My brother falls into that category. He’s the reason I had to tear myself away from Sinclair and Stevie to get down here.
Holden beckoned, and even though I told him to leave me alone until tomorrow, he persisted, so I finally acquiesced and agreed to meet him briefly.
