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After a serious dry spell, more swiping on TumbleWed than I would ever admit to my friends, and the shitshow of a first date that was TumbleWed Mike tonight, it feels really nice to have my ego stroked like this. And I bet it would feel even better to have other parts of me stroked, too.
“We shouldn’t do this. I…I changed your diapers.”
Jameson frowns, but his blue eyes don’t leave mine. “No, you didn’t. You’re six years older than me, not twenty. You never changed my diapers. You never even babysat me because I already had four older brothers to do that. Although, I do kind of like the idea of being hot for the babysitter. You can put me to bed anytime, babe.”
“You’re gross.”
“And you’re hot for me, so I guess that makes us even.” Jameson stares at me hard. “What are we doing here, Lemon? Am I coming in there with you or are you chickening out and going in there to use some toy to give you what you need? Trust me, I can do it better.”
Raising an eyebrow at him, I shake my head. “I’m not so sure about that. I have some very expensive toys.”
Jameson lets out a belt of laughter that echoes around us in the dark cab. “You going to invite me in for show-and-tell?”
“You can never tell Jacks about this. Or Gunnar. Or any of your brothers. Oh my god, or your dad. You can never tell anyone about this. Even yourself. You need to forget that it happened the minute it’s over, okay?”
“Full amnesia. Got it. I’m not even sure how I got home tonight.”
“And you can’t park here. Someone could see your truck. Pull around to the back and park down the street, okay? I’ll meet you at the back door.”
“Lemon…”
“Don’t worry, kid. I’ll open the door… probably,” I whisper into the dark between us.
Before he can say anything else, and before I can think better of this, I slip out of the truck, feeling like I’m falling in that long second before my feet hit the ground. Not risking a glance back at him, I open the little picket fence around the house where I grew up, and rush to the front porch. After letting myself inside, I scan the living room and kitchen for disasters.
I wasn’t planning on bringing anyone home tonight. It was a first date, after all. Not that it was completely out of the question. I just didn’t think I liked TumbleWed Mike enough that I’d want to bring him home. At least, I can trust my instincts where TumbleWed Mike is concerned. About what I’m doing right now with Jameson, not so much.
Knowing I don’t have much time, I race to the bedroom. I pick up the clothes on the floor by the antique armchair in the corner of my room that didn’t quite make it when I threw them towards it and pile them on top.
I changed the sheets on Sunday, so that’s going to have to do. I’m sure Jameson Waters has got down in way dirtier locales than my cute little house and two-day-old sheets. No, I don’t even want to think about all the places that man has been.
There’s a soft knock on the back door. The light’s out on the back porch, so no one should be able to see him. I need to change the bulb, but I just keep not getting around to it.
After padding across the old wood floorboards to the kitchen, I open the door for him.
He smiles at me, looking a little tense. “I wasn’t sure you were going to open the door.”
“Neither was I,” I tell him with a grin, wishing it were true.
I wish deciding to sleep with Jameson had been a harder decision to make. I’ve known him his whole life. Then he hits on me one time, and I’m ready to drop my panties for him? I’m not sure I like what that says about me very much at all. But that’s a problem for tomorrow.
Because tonight I’m about to find out if Jameson can back up all this talk with some action.
I’m not sure if I want to be surprised or disappointed by what’s about to happen here.
chapter five
lily
When I step back, Jameson walks inside and closes the door behind him. He flips the deadbolt on my back door with sure fingers, like he’s done it a thousand times. Jameson’s been in my kitchen more times than I can count. But tonight, it feels like the first time.
The kitchen’s almost never a mess because I don’t use it much, and I’m the only one who lives here now. Cooking is not one of my talents. So, the blue and white tile counters are almost always tidy. The white cabinets are always closed. The big dining table in the middle of the room is usually clear, except sometimes I accumulate plants there. Plants are everywhere in this house.
“Do you want a drink?”
Jameson shakes his head. “Not unless you want one.”
“I guess I’m good.”
