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“She helped me change a flat tire.”
Adam tilts his head. “Don’t you mean you helped her?”
A nostalgic gleam covers Jameson’s face, eyes glassy as he stares into the distance.
“No. She helped me. In my defense, I could have done it myself, but she drove by, muttered something about not ruining my expensive suit, and changed my tire with such efficiency and speed, it was as if she were on a pit crew.” He turns his gaze back to Adam. “I later learned she did have experience on a pit crew. Hayes Barlow’s pit crew.”
“So, she changed your tire. Now her boss blames you for killing her?” Adam knits his brow. “What am I missing?”
Jameson exhales a long breath. “Months of history.”
“Then tell me what happened.”
“We fell in love. Not at first. I’m pretty sure she initially hated me. Hated everything my family stood for.” He laughs to himself, shaking his head. “Loved to remind me how difficult it was for so many people to just put food on the table. She was always a bit of a spitfire, completely unlike anyone I’d ever met. Every other woman my parents threw at me were all from wealthy families. Had a ‘proper’ upbringing. Had the right education. Knew how to handle themselves in social settings.”
Jameson gives me a knowing look. I’m all too familiar with what it’s like to have someone else think they know what’s best for you.
And to want to be with someone who goes against all of it.
“How did you run into each other again after she helped change your tire?” I ask, not to clarify any details, but because I’m interested in their story.
“She was wearing a polo with the logo of a local pub. One night, I took a gamble and stopped by to see if she worked there. Luckily, she did. When she spun around and saw me sitting at the bar, she was confused. I’d just come from a cocktail party where women wore designer dresses, makeup perfect, hair without a single strand out of place.
“But as I drank her in for the first time in a month, I’d never seen anything so beautiful. Her hair was piled on top of her head. Her shirt was stained from a few mishaps behind the bar. And she didn’t have a single lick of makeup on her face. But she didn’t need any of that to be beautiful. Not in my eyes. Unfortunately, she didn’t exactly return my feelings, considering she kicked me out and told me never to show my face there again.
“So, I made her an offer. I’d found a 1960 Alfa Romeo Giuletto that was in rough shape. Since only 200 had ever been made, I’d bought it with the intention of eventually restoring it. I hadn’t found the right person who would appreciate what a unique and special car it was. All these custom shops wanted to modernize it, make it like the cars on the road today. But that’s not what I wanted. Didn’t want to destroy the history of the car.
“Of course, when I told her about my find, she didn’t believe me. That car is extremely rare. So I scribbled my address on a piece of paper and told her to stop by after her shift so she could see for herself.”
“And did she?” I can’t help but grin, hanging onto Jameson’s every word. It’s such a simple and pure love story. Two people who never should have been together finding a way to make it work, despite the odds.
“To my surprise, yes. About fainted when she saw my car collection. I’ve always had an affinity for vintage automobiles. The history behind them. The care with which they were made. It’s not like today when they’re rushed through an assembly line process.
“And when she saw the 1960 Giuletto, she was in awe. Then I asked if she’d help me restore it. It was a shot in the dark, considering I wasn’t sure how much she knew about restoring cars. I wasn’t an expert myself, either. I just wanted to spend time with her. Hoped that, since she was obviously a car enthusiast, she wouldn’t be able to turn down working on such a unique automobile.
“Luckily, she couldn’t, so we worked on it whenever she wasn’t at the pub or at the track with Hayes. At first, I kept my attraction to her under wraps, not wanting to make her feel awkward. But during the long hours we spent in my garage, what started as animosity turned into appreciation. And then love.”
“You worked on a car together,” Adam interjected, obviously wanting to get to the relevant part of their story. “Formed an attraction and fell for each other. Then what?”
“Considering who I am, things were complicated. I didn’t want to subject her to the spotlight surrounding me and my family. Nor did she want to be subjected to that, so we kept our relationship quiet. I knew we’d eventually have to take that next step. For the time being, we were happy to see each other in secret. Then…”
“Yes?” Adam encourages.
“Then I was invited to the King’s Day gala at the palace last summer, where I was photographed enjoying a dance and polite conversation with a certain princess. After that, it didn’t matter who my heart belonged to.” He shifts his gaze to mine. “The public salivated over the idea of a romantic relationship between us.”
“Was she upset about it?” I ask hesitantly.
“Actually, no. Callie was extremely level-headed. Understood there are certain expectations that go along with who I am. And she more than understood how important my charity work is. That sometimes it’s necessary to rub shoulders with the upper crust of society to further my philanthropic endeavors.”
“Last I checked, you’re a member of that upper crust, too,” I remind him.
“Maybe.” He rolls his shoulders. “But I never felt like I belonged. I can’t quite explain why. I just—”
I place my hand on his arm and squeeze. “I understand.”
“Why does Hayes Barlow think you killed Callie Sloane?” Adam asks after a beat.
Jameson shakes his head. “I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to her since February. Haven’t seen her since February. It’s… Well, it’s when things took a turn, starting with a visit from Silas Archer.”
