Chapter Fifteen
Jameson smiled at the screen and wished he could touch her. “How bad was the wedding?”
She groaned and pushed her hair back. His fingers tingled at the thought of how those strands felt slipping through his fingers, like raw silk. “Bad. Poor Gabe got hit on by the bridesmaids—they were so trashed, and I thought Bella was going to tackle them to the floor in a cat fight.”
“Did she?”
“God, no, she’s got class. She just made out with him in front of a crowd and lifted his finger to show off his wedding band. Then walked away with her head high. They didn’t bother him after that.”
“That’s kick ass. Would you do that for me?”
Her voice lowered in a sexy whisper. “I don’t need any excuse to make out with you, restaurant boy.”
He laughed, but the time on the clock was like a ticking bomb. “Sweetheart, I gotta go. I’ll check in later.”
“Okay, have a good shift.”
He opened his mouth, then quickly shut it. It seemed so natural to tell her he loved her but he knew it was too much. “Talk later. Miss you.”
“Miss you.”
He clicked off and headed to his closet to change. His head whirred with images of Devon wrapped up in his arms, with Bear at their side, running a restaurant that he had an emotional stake in.
God, he was tired. The long shifts weren’t invigorating anymore to him. Instead, his energy was always sapped. They’d made a change in management so now he was working with a guy in the field that was arrogant and a know-it-all. Tension was consistently simmering between them. Jameson figured a confrontation was coming soon because he couldn’t have his authority questioned.
But the bottom line? The Bordeaux Café wasn’t his place. He did what the bosses told him. He was a very highly paid manager. Not an owner.
The late-night dinners with his friends seemed tarnished and not as shiny or as fun. Many of them complained about the same things--their crappy hours, their toys, and work. The relationships they were in never lasted.
Jameson headed to work and thought of the beach. The flower shop. His cousin. And Bear. He thought about that vacant space and the phone number still held in his phone.
The evening went south pretty quickly. The chef overcooked the special and customer complaints flowed in. The new guy refused to defend the chef or the current staff, instead kissing ass to the customer and turning his back on his own. Jameson brought him aside to reign him in but was met with hot-tempered insults.
“That’s it. You’re not going to work out here. You’re done,” Jameson said.
Brent sneered. “You can’t fire me, asshole. I’m Jacques’s nephew.”
Jameson stared back, shocked. He’d never been told there was a connection there. What was going on?
Brent seemed to catch on to his ignorance and gave a mocking laugh. “You don’t get it, huh? I’m going to be your boss soon. So, it may help to start working with me rather than against me, or maybe it’s you who’s gonna be looking for another job.”
Then with a nasty grin, he left.
When Jameson got home that night, stressed, overworked, and exhausted, he looked up the number. He muttered a curse and rolled up his shirt sleeves. What the hell was he doing? Blowing up his life because of one bad night? Or running to a better one?
His gaze caught on the inked rose, reminding him of Devon.
He blinked. Devon . Not the grief over losing his mom. Not the empty hole inside of him or the reminder of love lost. Just Devon’s beautiful, kind face and the joy she brought.
His brain exploded with an image of his mom standing by Devon, smiling, enclosing her into a hug in full approval. The tattoo burned around his wrist in foreboding. What if he’d gotten this ink years ago for his future soul-mate? His very own flower girl.
What if his mother had led him directly to her?
Jameson closed his eyes and everything settled inside him. He knew exactly what he needed to do.
He called the number.
* * * *
Devon finished her final bouquet and flexed her cramped fingers. God, she loved and hated Valentine’s Day. It was the most profitable day for her shop, but it was a bitch to handle. Endless parties and nonstop restaurant orders poured in. She hired an extra driver for the week to deal with the rush. Glancing at her phone, she tried to tamp down her disappointment that Jameson hadn’t called.
It had been one month since he’d left. They managed to see each other twice in rushed visits. Jameson had no time off after taking leave, so he worked mostly seven days a week. The one day he’d managed to get shift coverage, he’d driven to Cape May so he could spend the night.
She thought of the weekend she’d gone to New York. It was wonderful to be in his environment and see the fancy restaurant he managed. She loved walking the streets hand in hand and spending the night in his arms. But he had little time to give, and seemed stressed out.
Devon tried not to worry. After all, this was new to them both, and Jameson was overwhelmed with his job. She was positive they could find a balance in the future. Still, this was the second time he’d missed their phone date and it was Valentine’s Day. She just…missed him.
Blowing out a breath, she finished up and cleared the table. The emptiness of the shop made her ache. Bear was missed daily, but she knew the training was important for him. He deserved the best home. It just happened not to be hers.
Feeling a touch of self-pity, she went upstairs and poured herself a deserved glass of wine. Maybe she’d watch a movie tonight. No romcoms. Something with guns and violence and action to distract her.
Devon groaned at the knock on her door. Muttering under her breath, she peeked out the window.
Jameson stood at the door with dozens of roses.
She gasped and flung the door open. “What are you doing?”
“Not missing Valentine’s Day, of course.”
She blinked back sudden tears and bit down on her lip to steady herself. “What about work?”
“Don’t care. I missed you, sweetheart.”
She jumped into his arms, crushing the flowers, and his mouth met hers with hunger and fire and want. Devon melted into the embrace, frantic to get as close to him as possible. He backed her up, kicked the door shut, and they made out in her hallway until they were breathless.
When he finally broke the kiss, her entire body throbbed with arousal. “I can’t believe you drove all the way here just for Valentine’s Day,” she murmured, gathering up the blooms with care.
“I wanted to talk to you about something.”
The gravity in his voice stopped her heart. What if he came here to break up in person? What if this wasn’t working for him any longer? What if she wasn’t enough for him?
She tamped down on the negative thoughts and tried to remain calm. “Well, it must be important if it couldn’t be done over the phone.”
“It is. I couldn’t wait anymore, Devon. It isn’t fair to you.”
She focused on clipping the stems under water and arranging the roses in a vase. “Okay.” Her voice shook a bit. “What is it?”
“I think you should sit.”
Her stomach clenched. She may throw up but that wasn’t cool. She needed to be calm. “Okay.” Slowly, she walked to the couch and sat down. Her smile seemed forced and a bit sickly. “I’m ready. What did you want to talk about?”
He paced back and forth with a restless panther grace she loved. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, a frown marred his brow. “I don’t know how to say this without freaking you out. I thought about doing it over a nice dinner, or maybe over the phone because you deserved to hear it. Hell, I shouldn’t have been afraid to do this before but I was worried about your reaction. But here we go.”
Oh, God.
“Sweetheart, I’m really sorry but this isn’t working between us. The long-distance thing, I mean.”
Fuck calm, cool and collected.
She jumped from the couch. “You’re breaking up with me because it’s not easy for you? Because your idea of a relationship isn’t what you imagined? Well, welcome to my world, restaurant boy! The difference between us is I can recognize when a connection is this rare, and real, and raw, and not throw it away because things are a little hard!”
“Devon—”
She shook with emotion, her voice breaking. “No, forget it! I’m sick and tired of trying to hide the truth. Hell, I might as well scare the hell out of you right now since you’re already spooked. You see, Jameson Franklin, I happen to be in love with you. Okay? I love you, you idiot!”
His jaw dropped. “You love me?”
She despised the tears that stung her eyes but she’d lost control. “Yes. I do. And I’m not taking it back. So go ahead and break up with me, and I’m sorry I can’t do this sweetly and be cool and say, hey, we tried it didn’t work out, because I’m hurt, and sad, and really, really pissed off!”
And then he laughed.
He threw back his head and laughed so hard, Devon’s vision blurred, and she reacted the only way she knew.
She threw herself at him in a feminine fury. “Why are you laughing! How can I love someone so stupid!”
He tightened his embrace and yanked her close. “Flower girl, you have to listen. You didn’t give me a chance to finish.” She stilled and he cupped her cheeks, looking into her eyes with so much heat and want and tenderness. “I love you, too. I’ve been miserable in New York without you, and I fell in love with you before I left but I was too scared to tell you. I kept telling myself no one can be in love after three weeks but I was wrong. I left my job, Devon. I want to move here and be with you and open up a restaurant. I want us to be a family.”
The words stunned her. She gripped his shirt with trembling hands. “You—you love me? You want to move here?”
“Yes. I did a lot of thinking about what I want and realized I thought I was happier than I was. After meeting you and being in Cape May, I see there’s a whole other level and I want it all. With you. Is that okay, flower girl?”
She reached up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. “Yes, it’s very okay. God, I love you so much.”
He scooped her up into his arms and headed to the bedroom. “I hope you don’t have any events tonight,” he murmured, laying her out on the mattress. “Because I don’t expect us to make it.”
She linked her arms around his neck and sighed in pleasure. “I’m all yours.”
And Jameson made good on his promise.