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“You have…multiple degrees?”
“Can’t be a criminal mastermind without—”
“Why didn’t yousayso?” My voice goes high and shocked. “Don’t you think that would have been a cool thing to share with your fiancée?”
Jameson rests the head of the axe in the grass and stares at the leaves in the branches long-sufferingly. When he tilts his chin back down at me, there’s a darker emotion in his eyes.
“If you keep saying that to me, I’m going to propose.”
My heart goes from shirtless-man-racing to pounding out of control. “I dare you.”
He lets out a shallow breath. “You ofallpeople should be more judicious about your dares.”
I wonder if he can tell my face is on fire. “My dares? I’ve never dared you to do anything before.”
I swear to the highest court in the land, his eyesglitter.“Yes, you have.”
“I’m pretty sure I haven’t.”
Jameson clears his throat and curls his hand over the upright axe handle, leaning on it like he’s modeling for aVanity Fairforestry tools edition. “Hope no hot guys are waiting to mug me in this parking lot. Idareyou.”
My mouth drops open so quickly that there’s no chance I haven’t turned into a human cartoon. I have a terrible sunburn, or else all the blood in my body has rushed into my face and scorched the skin.
“You did not,” I choke. “You didnotjust make fun of me for what I said when I was being kidnapped.”
Jameson laughs, so satisfied that he’s almost given himself dimples from his smile. “Technically, that’s what you saidbeforeyou were being kidnapped. Sealed the deal, if you ask me. How could I not respond to a dare?”
“I can’t believe you heard that.” I have nowhere to hide but behind my lemonade can. It’s only big enough to block Jameson out if I close my other eye.
“Well, yeah. I was right behind you. Hard to kidnap someone from the opposite side of a parking lot.”
“No. No!” I take the lemonade can away from my face and hold it like a brave, independent woman whose kidnapper didn’t hear the silly joke she made to what she thought was an empty parking lot. “This is a distraction. If you’re going to propose, just do it.”
“I don’t have a ring.”
“Fine. Then tell me what degree you got at college. Whatdegrees.”
Jameson groans. “I’d rather not.”
“Because I’ll think you’re cute?”
“That’s not it.”
Jameson busies himself with the axe again, and I let him split two more pieces of wood before I forge ahead into the same giddy feeling as before.
“Are you a secret genius? Is that what’s so embarrassing?”
“I’m not embarrassed of my degree.” Swing.Smack.“Degrees.”
“Okay. Tell me what they are, then.”
He takes his sweet time setting up another chunk of wood and splitting it. This goes on for so long that I think he might’ve forgotten my demand.
Then, after one more powerful swing:
“I have a Master’s in Public Administration and I got my JD at the same time.”
I shake my head so hard that I really do turn into a human cartoon.
