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Jameson
Noel and Maxmade for a terrifying team.
In addition to defending against corporate espionage, our family bonus brother used his propensity for technological conquests to lure predators into government-cooperative webs, like some sort of cyber-vigilante. The man crashed at my place—draped over my couch like a rag doll, with his mouth wide open in ode to the Venus Fly Trap after one too many glasses of expensive Chardonnay—on a weekly damn basis. He turned salmon-pink if anyone uttered the name of his high school crush, Luca Moretti. Ate tacos like they were a primary food group, cried whenever El or Hadlee playedYou’ve Got Mail, baked cookies for JunipereveryMother’s Day, rarely lost a bet on who would win a football game…and nonchalantly destroyed the lives of evil men for a living.
I would never look at his slick, expensive button-ups or collection of colognes the same. Especially not after he announced to the room that he’d actually been compiling his own file on Eric from the day he’d snagged his voice and face on his phone in Birch Barrel.
Between his findings and Noel’s, and whatever freaky tech sabotage allowed him to drop anonymous tips to both authorities and the media, we were all piled on my couch watching Eric’s swollen, purple and yellow face under a barrage of camera flashes as the feds escorted him to a cruiser in cuffs for the second time in twice as many days.
“Christ, you’ve got a badass right hook,” Max muttered, lips upturned in satisfaction as we got our first clear shot at the damage.
“Damn straight,” Axel said, knocking his shoulder into mine, where we sat on the couch.
“That’s my man,” Noel whispered, pinching my waist as she nuzzled tighter against my other side.
The best part? No matter what happened from here, she was right. He might have been able to put the system in his greasy pocket. Butthe people? That’s where the true power lies.
That was a battle not even the Connely Empire could win.
There was no coming back from being shoved into a glass house.
Max could live in my master bedroom for the rest of our damn lives, happily raiding my pantry stocked with his favorite liquors, and I’d never be able to pay him back for what he did for my girl.
THIRTY-ONE
NOEL
Nightly sex-a-thons gave way to sinfully sweet cuddles dripping in an intimacy I’d never known, tentative new habits solidifying into the comfort of a reliable routine. Jameson dragged me along to the gym enough times that it felt like a second home, the lanky lines of the body I’d known gradually filling with just a hint of proud muscle.
The tumult of questions volleyed between us gradually vanished, and we welcomed in their place coffee made just the way we liked it and clothes sharing a closet in a chronically casual disarray neither of us cared enough to fix. Desperate kisses gradually transitioned into the familiar ease of something deeper as summer days gave way to the bitter chill of autumn. The salmon season ended, bringing with it a brief reprieve for Milo, Jameson, and his brothers before they geared up for cod. Brin started working back into the schedule at Grizzly Grind, effectively freeing most of my mental space. Rhyett would keep a spot for me, but using up time somewhere I could no longer add real value seemed a waste of resources on all fronts.
October came and went in a blur of oranges and reds, once green branches blushing with embarrassment at their impending nakedness. I was straightening the arrangement of miniature pumpkins on our counter on my last day in the shop, when a familiar focus caressed my neck, and relief coursed through me. Tomorrow was the last court appearance in Jameson’s case, and his rough touch across my stomach as he came up behind me sent ease through my nervous center. So far, it looked like his legal team really had the damn thing in the bag. The radio silence from Eric after his final arrest solidified a blessed reprieve in the scheme of things. Small victories, but victories all the same. Leaning back into his hard chest, I breathed in that familiar musk.
“Missed you,” I said, setting my head against him. Warm, soft lips pressed against my temple, and I sighed contentedly.
“You too, baby,” he breathed back, comforting little tickles inching down my shoulder where his breath caressed a lazy line across the skin. “You about done here?”
Turning in his arms, I peered up at the man who flipped my world on its axis and breathed in his steady presence. After that initial shit show, Jameson hadn’t shown a lick of nerves aroundanyof it. With Eric in federal custody thousands of miles away, and life settling into our own new sense of normal, he’d barely acknowledged the bullshit my psycho ex stirred up while he was here.
“Yeah. I’ve got your coffee on the counter, and I think there are a couple of candles to set out, but then I’m good to go.”
“Good. How do you feel?”
The question was obviously pertaining to my last day as a barista as I leapt off the cliff of comfort into the paralyzing free-fall of the unknown, but I let a slow, coy smile creep up my cheeks. “A little sore. Couldn’t walk right this morning, but a few hours sitting with cold soda cans between my legs did the trick.”
A solitary dark brow winged up like I’d snagged it on a fishhook, and he tongued at a canine, which I identified as his best suppressant against his own sense of humor. I burst out laughing, breaking his honest smile out as he smacked my ass, drawling, “Very classy.”
“Always,” I said with a wink. Sighing under his unwavering scrutiny and the little pinch against my tricep, I admitted, “Honestly…I’m nervous about still not having a plan. But…we’ll figure it out after we survive tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” he said, grinning before he reunited our foreheads, tracing gentle little bunny kisses over my nose. “Wewill.”
Jameson
Not guilty on all counts.Those words through Judge Cullen’s lips lit a fire of vindication in my chest, and it took every ounce of self-restraint not to leap into the air and shoutfuck yeahas the gavel came down. My eyes met Max’s in the back row, and he nodded in solidarity, his computer open, doing God-knows-what while he listened. Broderick gave me a solid thumbs up, and I shook Rob’s hand like a dignified adult. But once we were on our feet, it was those brown doe-eyes that consumed every ounce of my being, and the instant I was free of the partition between court and civilians, she practically sprinted into my wide-open arms, colliding with me with just as much enthusiasm as we had that first day on the docks. Sans very public lip lock and koala hug, of course. My stomach knotted when I released her to find tears streaming down her delicate cheeks, eyes glassy as she opened her mouth twice before slamming it shut. I wiped my thumbs across her alabaster skin, soaking them up.
“We did it, baby,” I said softly, fingers finding hers and threading together. A little sob hiccuped through her a beat before she nodded.
“We did it.”
