AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Three gallons. Why?”
“I’m staring at your truck. Did you walk over there?”
“Yes, of course I did. It’s three blocks, kid. And I’m perfectly capable of walking three blocks to pick up some dumb paint and walking back to the shop.” It’s not dumb paint. It’s actually very nice paint. Very expensive paint.
“Stay put. I’ll be right there.”
“What if I don’t?”
“Same answer as if you call me kid one more time.”
“Oh, please! In the middle of Grove Street? And I’m not even wearing a dress today.”
“Try me, Lemon. Just try me. I’ll make it work in your little jean shorts or whatever else you have on today.”
“Whatever. I’ll be on the corner outside the hardware store, unless some other man picks me up before you get here.”
“Don’t even think about it.”
I’m honestly surprised when Jameson hangs up and doesn’t make me stay on the phone with him until he gets here. But I’m not complaining. I don’t need any man to babysit me, and I definitely don’t need Jameson Waters to babysit me. He’s the one who probably needs a babysitter. Because he’s twenty-six.
Setting my paint down next to the bench in front of the paint store, I look in the opposite direction from my shop. I will not sit here watching and waiting for Jameson to show up and rescue me. I am a strong, independent woman… who overestimated her ability to carry three gallons of paint and supplies.
When I hear heavy work boots stomping towards me, I know that it’s him. But I don’t look up at him, not even when he’s standing next to me, looming over me.
“Lemon.”
“Ki-Jameson.”
“Are you going to look at me?”
“Undecided.”
“Well, your paint and I will be back at the shop when you decide you’re done pouting.”
When I finally do look at him, my eyes start at his dirty work boots, drag their way up his ripped jeans with some dust and dirt on them, up to his t-shirt. Today’s shirt says Sugar Baby. Idiot. But his shirt has me smiling. Then finally, I look at his face. He’s so stupidly handsome, with a big smile on his lips and something always dancing in his blue eyes. Mischief. Sex. He’s always up to something.
Jameson picks up two gallons of paint in one hand like it’s nothing. Then he picks up the rollers, trays, and the other gallon in his other hand like it’s even less. He’s holding the gallon of paint with only a couple of fingers. I had to use all of mine, and it was still really freaking heavy.
“I hate your big, dumb hands.”
“Not what you said the night you let me take you home from the Goldrush, babe,” Jameson says with a laugh. “Let’s go back to the shop.”
Knowing I’m being the immature one and hating every second of it, I stand up and fall in step beside him. I wonder what this looks like to everyone who sees us walking down Grove Street together? Like I’m taking advantage of my best friend’s little brother? Like Jameson is helping an elderly woman out of the goodness of his youthful heart? I’m not exactly an old crone, I get that. But I’m also not twenty-six anymore. Not for a long time.
Because I’m all churned up inside, and I want to needle him, I pretend to look at something in the window of the clothing store on the other side of the street. Then I fall back in step with him on the outside of the sidewalk, closer to the cars parked in angled slots along Grove Street.
Jameson immediately falls a step back and then catches up on the outside of the sidewalk again.
I let it stand for another twenty feet or so, and then I pretend to sniff a flower. Well, I actually do sniff the flower, a beautiful purple dahlia that I planted earlier in the spring in a planter box next to one of the wood benches that line both sides of the street. Western Springs doesn’t have a huge landscaping budget, so there’s a group of volunteers that maintain Grove Street and keep it looking cute enough for a postcard. When I’m done, I step back next to Jameson on the outside of the sidewalk.
This used to be one of my favorite games to play with Jacks in high school. It drove him crazy. Mrs. Waters taught her boys that they always needed to walk on the outside of the sidewalk and that girls should be on the inside. And they still do it. Every single one of them. It’s incredibly cute. And incredibly annoying.
“Having fun, Lemon?” Jameson says, falling back, stepping around me to the outside edge of the sidewalk, and catching up with me again. “I can keep this up all day. You know a thing or two about my stamina now, don’t you?”
That shuts me right up. I stay walking on the inside of the sidewalk next to him for a bit.
“Jameson?”
