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Jameson takes a step toward me. “Don’t even think about it, Lemon.”
“Just go back to the farm, kid. I have a ton of work to do.”
He frowns and takes another step forward.
“Yeah, I should get back to the farm. Or I'll never hear the end of it from Jarret. That man does not know how to have fun. Except for today, apparently. Because I always have fun when I’m with you. I’ll see you later, Lemon.”
“You’re not funny.” But he’s also not wrong. Jarret is the grumpiest, most serious man I’ve ever met in my life. It’s like the rest of his brothers stole all the ability to have fun from him, and he just thinks he has to be serious and take care of everyone all the time. Even though they’re all adults. Even Jameson is an adult, despite him not acting like one today.
“I’m kind of funny.”
“You’re really not. Just go. Please.”
“What are these?” Jameson stops just before the door and picks up one of the baseball caps sitting on the front windowsill.
“I thought you were leaving?”
“Answer my question and maybe I will.”
“They’re just sample hats I ordered for the shop. Figured I might as well be advertising the shop when I’m doing deliveries and stuff. Maybe give some away?”
“Mind if I take one?” He asks, inspecting it.
He runs his hand over the cream fabric and feels the curve of the visor, then studies the pink and green Lily’s Flowers & Botanicals logo on the front. I worked on the shop logo for hours, and I think it turned out pretty cute. The pale pink circle with the name of my shop in the middle and Western Springs and the year the shop is opening around it, surrounded by light and dark green vines.
“No. Not if it means you’ll actually leave,” I tell him, batting my lashes at him.
As I watch him walk out the door, I need to poke him one last time. I want him to be as pissed off as I am right now. I want him to fight back. I want him to walk away and just leave me alone forever.
“Jameson?”
“Yeah, Lemon? I thought you wanted me to get back to work?”
“Oh, I do. I just need to tell you something first. Don’t come see me again unless you have a perfectly baked apple pie with you. See you around, kid! Or not.”
chapter nineteen
lily
I’m pissed. I’m so angry that I could scream. But since Jameson left the shop and I live alone, there’d be no one to hear it except myself.
So, I work. I have a million things to do for the shop, plus all of my normal work stuff. So, work is pretty much around the clock. I never feel like I have even five minutes to spare anymore.
When someone knocks on my back kitchen door a little after seven, I’m still working. I have a feeling I know who it is, so I don’t answer. I’m not interested.
When he knocks again, I know he’s not just going to give up and leave. The longer he’s out there, the more likely it is that one of my neighbors sees him. I’m cursing the night I let Jameson Waters take me home from the Goldrush as I stomp my way to the door.
When I open it, Jameson’s standing there. He’s wearing clean jeans and a new t-shirt, so he probably showered after finishing work at the farm. And I don’t need to see the logo to know that it’s my Lily’s Flowers & Botanicals hat he’s wearing backwards on his head. My heart churns over at the sight of him wearing my hat, supporting me. And I push those dumb feelings out of my head immediately. Because I’m still mad at him. And I’m not going to stop being mad at him.
Because if I stopped being mad at him, I don’t know what would happen next. But I know it would be scary as hell. And what’s the point? This can’t go anywhere. There are just too many years between us. And too small of a town.
“What are you doing here? I’m busy. I’m working.”
Jameson glares at me as his eyes rake up and down my body. “What the hell are you wearing?”
“Pajamas. A nightie. A nightgown. Why?” I’m wearing one of my satin nightgowns. A dark purple one tonight. But I don’t wear them because they look good on me or because I’m trying to impress anyone. They do look good on me. But I wear them because they’re comfortable. The fabric floats around my body without pinching or tugging me anywhere. And I don’t get trapped in fabric when I toss and turn in bed. I’m definitely not wearing anything to impress him.
“That doesn’t look like any nightgown I’ve ever seen. Aren’t nightgowns supposed to go up to your throat and down to your ankles?”
