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“Not if I can help it.”
Raising an eyebrow at him, I narrow my eyes. “You sound really young right now, kid.”
“Don’t bring up my fucking age right now just to piss me off, Lemon. We’re hashing this out, and then we’re getting back to normal. You tell me what we need to say to get past this.”
“I don’t know! It’s not like I have a script or something.”
“What are you really pissed about?”
“What am I really pissed about? I’m pissed at you for talking to my mom when you had no right. I don’t need you to fight my battles for me. You overstepped. This is none of your business.”
He shakes his head, studying me. “That’s not it. You and I both know you can fight your own battles. And I overstep all the damn time. You’re used to that by now. What is this really about?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to have a hot shower and get to the store. So, I can put a big smile on my face and hopefully sell some flowers today. And maybe a few bottles of lotion. I don’t have time to keep arguing about this. It’s not getting us anywhere.”
“You can talk to me now, or you can talk to me later. But you’re going to tell me what the real problem is at some point, Lemon.”
“Sometimes you really piss me off, kid.”
He has the nerve to grin at me. “Only sometimes? I must be losing my touch.”
I jerk on the bottom sheet, but it doesn’t budge with him lying on it. When I glare at him, he stands up. Grabbing the bottom sheet so hard it pulls up the corner of the mattress, I catch the sheets up in my arms and stomp out of the bedroom to the little laundry room next to the kitchen at the back of the house.
“Hate to see you leave, Lemon. But I love watching you go,” Jameson calls after me.
I’m just glad he doesn’t see the smile tug across my lips at his words. Because I’m still pissed at him.
I shove the sheets into the old top-loading washer with more force than is strictly necessary. After I toss in the detergent, I slam the lid down.
When I head to the bathroom to take a shower, Jameson is lurking around the linen closet in the hall next to the bathroom.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to put fresh sheets on the bed. Figured it was the least I could do since I’m the one who apparently made all the mess. Only I remember you being pretty messy last night too, Lemon.”
“Sheets are on the third shelf. Left side.”
“You sure you don’t want company in the shower? I can make the bed after…”
“No, thank you. I just want to clear my head.”
I let the hot water pound down on me as I massage my rosemary, brown sugar, and cinnamon shampoo through my hair. I dig the pads of my fingers into my scalp as I try to clear my head.
It’s not working.
I hear Jameson come in to pee and wait to see if he’s going to join me in the shower anyway, but he brushes his teeth and then heads back out.
When I get out of the shower, I’m hot, red as a lobster boiled alive, and just as pissed off as I was when I went in. Maybe we should just have sex again? At least when Jameson’s touching me and making me come, I can’t think about anything else.
When I walk back into the bedroom wrapped in a towel, Jameson’s just finishing making the bed.
“That looks pretty good, kid. Nice use of throw pillows.”
He grins at me over his shoulder. “Thanks, Lemon. I tried real hard for you.”
How is a woman supposed to stay mad in the face of that smile?
“Did you mean what you said about coming to the shop? You don’t have to.”
