Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
J ami stepped through the doors of Grits and Grub, her heart thumping wildly against her ribs. The restaurant was packed. Every table was filled with townsfolk. She felt a fluttering in her stomach—not from the impending announcement of the show's winner, but because of him.
She caught sight of Jed across the room, standing near the bar. He was talking to one of his cooks but turned the moment she entered. He looked so handsome in his crisp shirt and dark jeans, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms—arms that beckoned her to come over and be wrapped inside. There was a shadow of exhaustion under his eyes, but it only made him more ruggedly handsome. She ached to reach out to him, to wipe away any stress. Stress she knew she had caused. But she couldn't bring herself to move.
Her sisters, who had flanked her on the way here, each gave her a supportive squeeze on the arm before they melted into the crowd, abandoning her to face him alone. Typical, really. Jacqui and Jules were always there for her, but they knew when she needed to take a step on her own.
Jed had started walking toward her, weaving through the tables, his eyes never leaving hers. Jami's heart pounded louder with every step he took. When he finally reached her, he raised his hand—slowly, tentatively. Was he going to shake her hand? Brush a stray hair away? Push her away? She would never know because she couldn’t stand the distance anymore.
Jami stepped forward, closing the gap between them, and went into his arms. Jed wrapped her up immediately, holding her tight against his chest. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of him—soap, hickory, and the faint hint of spices from the kitchen. It was a scent she had come to associate with comfort, with safety, with home.
Jed’s hand stroked up and down her back. He tilted his head down, his breath warm against her ear. “Truce?”
His voice was gruff, a mix of hope and vulnerability. Just one word, a question. Yet that single word held the weight of everything between them.
Jami nodded, unable to trust her voice. Her throat was too tight, her heart too full. She clutched him closer, feeling the solidness of his body against hers, grounding her in this moment.
He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into her eyes, his gaze searching hers. Then, with a soft smile, he led her toward a private booth at the back of the restaurant. She felt the eyes of the town on them as they moved, the whispers and knowing smiles.
None of it mattered. All she could focus on was Jed’s warm hand in hers, the way his fingers curled protectively around hers as if he were afraid to let go. Because he still thought she might leave. The problem was she didn't know if she would. She didn't know if she could.
They slid into the booth, the soft leather creaking under their weight. The lights in the restaurant dimmed. The large TV screens around the room flickered to life. The show began, and the crowd hushed, the air thick with anticipation.
The episode started, showing the other couples, the competition, the moments of triumph and struggle. The camera cut to her and Jed, capturing their banter, the cooking challenges, the blind taste tests. Jami watched herself on screen, laughing, arguing, cooking... and in every shot, Jed was there, right beside her. His eyes were always on her, his touch an anchor. She saw that even through the screen. It hit her then how natural they looked together, how right.
A lump lodged in her throat as the scenes played out, one after another, each moment more intimate than the last. The camera didn’t lie; it had captured the truth of what they shared. In each look, each touch, there it was. Something she had been too afraid to acknowledge until now.
Jed Winchester was in love with her. Jami knew it for a fact because the camera caught the exact same look in her eyes whenever they landed on him.
Jami stole a glance at Jed now. He was watching the screen. His hand still held hers, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand in soothing circles. She felt a surge of emotion, a wave of realization that left her breathless. She couldn’t see her life without him. Not now. Not ever.
Slowly, hesitantly, she reached for his other hand with her free one. He turned to her, his eyes locking on to hers, searching, questioning. She gave him a small smile, the kind that was just for him, and squeezed his hands.
Jed’s eyes softened, his gaze dropping to their joined hands. He took a breath, and the tension in his shoulders eased. The corners of his lips tilted upward in a way that made Jami's heart flutter. He lifted their joined hands and kissed her knuckles softly, never breaking eye contact. The gesture was tender, filled with promise and something that made her insides twist with hope.
The show continued, but Jami barely heard it. She was too focused on the man beside her, on the warmth of his body pressed against hers, on the way his thumb kept tracing those soothing circles on her skin. The room around them buzzed with excitement, with murmurs of speculation about who would win, but in this booth, it felt like they were in their own world, cocooned from everything else.
When the final moments of the show began to play, the announcement looming, she leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. She didn't care about the outcome. Jed wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her closer, holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. And for the first time, she felt it. Truly felt it.
Home.
Jami smiled, a real, genuine smile that reached her eyes, and in that moment, she knew. No matter what happened next, she had already won.
"And the winner is…” the announcer’s voice boomed, then paused dramatically, the seconds ticking by in agonizing slow motion.
“... Monica and Derek!”
Jami's eyes widened, and she shot to her feet, the force of her movement nearly knocking over the table. “What?”
Beside her, Jed was already standing, his expression darkening, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he growled, glaring at the screen. His outrage mirrored her own, the same shock and anger swirling between them like a storm.
Rick shrugged, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “It’s not my call. The judges?—”
“The judges picked Monica and Derek? Did they not taste my husband's sauces? Did they not taste the fusion we put together?” Jami's pulse was racing, her face heating up with the fury of it all. It wasn’t supposed to matter, but it did. It mattered so much.
“We poured everything into those dishes,” Jed added, his tone low and seething. “My wife made me push boundaries and take risks. And they pick the safe option?”
The safe option. That's what Jami had chosen too.
"You promised Jami a show when we won," Jed demanded.
"I don't care about the show," said Jami. "I care about you. All I want is you."