Chapter 10 #2
When all the bowls are practically licked clean, Jamie disappears into the kitchen to boil water for tea, then returns with two steaming mugs. I notice Honey glancing anxiously at the clock. Twenty minutes until they need to leave. Have I really been here for two hours already?
“Wait, Dad, do the tea rocket!” Kiki suddenly exclaims, batting her dark mascaraed lashes at him.
“No, you girls need to get dressed,” Jamie counters, though his resolve seems to weaken under the weight of their pleading eyes.
“Tea rocket, tea rocket!” they chant.
Jamie sighs, but he’s grinning. “All right, all right. But this is a delicate operation.” He grabs a fresh tea bag. “We’re talking precise engineering here.”
The girls lean forward, already giggling.
“First, we must carefully remove the staple. One wrong move and the whole mission is compromised.”
“Dad, just do it!” Honey laughs.
“Patience, astronaut.” He opens the paper pouch, dumps the loose tea into his palm, then gently coaxes the empty bag into a cylinder. “Now, the structural integrity is crucial.” He adjusts it on the table, making minute corrections until it stands perfectly upright.
I freeze.
The scene crashes over me: my dad at our old kitchen table, doing this exact thing.
Jamie produces a long lighter. “Mission control, we are go for launch.”
“We’re ready!” Kiki squeals.
“T-minus…” He touches the flame to the top edge of the paper cylinder. “Three…two…one…”
The fire catches. A tiny orange glow at first, then spreading down the paper walls. It burns lazily, the edges curling black as the flame consumes the delicate structure. The girls hold their breath.
Just when it seems like it’ll collapse into nothing but ash, the whole thing lifts and rises up in a graceful spiral toward the ceiling. It hovers, glowing and ethereal, before disintegrating into tiny embers that float down like fireflies.
The girls erupt. Cheering, clapping, reaching for the falling ash.
“Again, again!”
Jamie laughs, catching Kiki before she climbs onto the table. “That’s all the magic we’ve got time for this afternoon, astronauts.”
My throat closes. I’m six years old again, shouting for the rocket to go higher, faster. “My dad used to do the same thing.”
“Really?” Kiki asks. “Does he still do it?”
“Not as well as your dad.” I force a smile. I will not be depressing these kids.
“Okay, Dad. Bowl is empty,” Honey says. “Can we go get dressed now?”
“Go for it.” Jamie leans back in his chair.
They shoot up from their chairs and run toward the stairs. “You coming, Joy?” Kiki asks.
“I—” I glance at Jamie.
He smirks and juts his chin for me to follow his daughters. “I’ll clean up.”
The girls have five dresses apiece fanned out across their beds. Their room is perfectly split in two: Honey’s side is a unicorn sugar rush, and Kiki’s is a moody Scooby-Doo theme. I help them narrow down their options, then head downstairs to wait for their big-reveal fashion show.
“Thanks for doing this,” Jamie says just as my feet touch the bottom step. He pulls me into his arms, sneaking a glance upstairs, before pressing a quick kiss to my lips. His freshly trimmed mustache tickles my nose. “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”
He nudges me against the back of the couch by the stairs. The thrill of being caught—and kissing him again—beats through me. “Even though I smell like garlic and look like a mess.”
“You’re distracting in a completely marvelous way, Joy.” He kisses me again, softer and longer this time.
“I like these pants on you. Very…dad-coded.” I sketch my index finger along the plaid waistband.
“Behave.” He tsks. Upstairs, a door opens, and he shifts closer, sliding in beside me on the couch.
Jamie and I clap and cheer as the twins make their dramatic descent. I snap a family photo, then Kiki drags me into a selfie. I let her, though it feels strange, knowing one day they’ll look back at this picture and wonder who the hell the mystery woman was. The thought pinches something in me.
It’s nice. To feel folded into a family.
After the photos, they shrug on their jackets, swing open the door, and sprint toward Jamie’s truck. Outside, the sky is already inky black even though it’s only four.
“Okay, heater’s on,” Jamie calls to the girls while snatching up his keys. Then he turns toward me. “Wanna come drop them off?”
“I should go check on Arrietty.” I’ve probably encroached enough on family time today. I don’t want to push it.
“She’s fine. If you don’t want to come, at least grab one of my books. Stay. Enjoy the fire. Finish your tea. I’ll be back in twenty.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I’d like the company.” He winks at me before leaving, and then I’m standing in his living room alone with too many emotions to name.
It’s summer.
The twins are older, maybe sixteen or seventeen. Honey’s showing me photos on her phone, talking about some boy from her chemistry class. Kiki’s arguing with Jamie about college applications.
“Dad, I’m not going to veterinary school just because Joy did—”
“I didn’t say that.” Jamie laughs. “I said you’d be good at it.”
I’m curled on the porch swing, bare feet tucked under me, watching fireflies blink across the meadow. The reindeer graze in the distance. Arrietty’s grown calf—healthy and strong—grazes beside her.
Jamie appears with two glasses of wine. Sits beside me. His hair’s grayer at the temples, his laugh lines deeper around his eyes.
“You good?” he asks, pressing a kiss to my temple.
“Yeah.” I lean into him. “I’m good.”
His hand finds mine. There’s a ring on my finger—simple, worn smooth.
“Happy?” he murmurs.
“So happy,” I whisper.
And I am. God, I am.
“Joy.”
A voice, comfortable and close.
“Joy, wake up.”
My eyes fly open. Jamie is kneeling in front of me, haloed by the firelight. He skims his pinky along my temple. Am I still dreaming?
“You okay? You were making sounds…”
I rub my eyes with the back of my hands. I’m on his couch. Tangled in a furry green blanket.
“What time is it?” My words come out groggy.
“Almost eleven.”
“Oh my god.” I jerk up on my elbows. The blanket slips to my hips. The room is dark except for the fire’s low, steady crackle. I’ve been asleep for nearly seven hours…in a man’s house I met a week ago. “You should’ve woken me up!”
“You looked like you needed the sleep.”
“What about the girls?”
“They went to bed an hour ago. Exhausted from the dance.” His eyes drift over me. Fondness and adoration are written all over his handsome features. “You were dreaming.”
My heart races at his proximity. At the memory of my dream. He’s eye level. And I’m so focused on the thin rim of espresso around his irises that I don’t notice myself drifting closer until the air between us disappears. “I—I guess I was. I can’t remember the last time I took a nap.”
“Which is why I didn’t wake you.” He catches my chin gently between his thumb and forefinger. There’s a half-smile tugging at his lips under his mustache—crooked, magnetic, devastating. The air between us is thick with the scent of chamomile and ash, something so cozy it makes me flush.
A blanket, mug, and half-read book sit in the chair beside the fire. My stomach flips.
“Were you watching me?”
“Couldn’t sleep with you down here alone.”
My pulse hums; my thoughts go quiet. For once, I’m not planning or calculating—I’m just here.
I grab his wrist, guiding him closer until his palm rests against my waist, heat seeping through the thin fabric of my sweater.
“Well, then I owe you a thank—”
He kisses me before I finish the sentence. Soft at first and questioning. But then I make this desperate sound, and his hands tangle into my hair, and suddenly we’re not being careful anymore.
I fist the fabric of his shirt and tug him toward me. I climb into his lap, straddling him. The couch dips under our weight. He makes a surprised, hungry noise that goes straight through me.
“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” I whisper against his mouth, touching the heat beneath his shirt, exploring the soft hair along his chest. “Force me to have a good rest, get me alone, and then ravish me?”
“Maybe.” His gaze skims every inch of my body.
I roll my hips experimentally, and his breath hitches. “Is it working?”
“Fuck.” His fingers latch into my legs, guiding me into a rhythm. “Yeah. It’s working.”
There are too many layers between us—jeans and leggings and the fundamental problem that we’re dry-humping on his couch like teenagers, but I can’t stop.
Don’t want to stop. My dream felt so real that I could almost believe that Jamie and I have done this a million times, yet each time is still as electrifying as the first.
I’m not thinking about work, or control, or the next thing on my list.
He’s hard and thick beneath me, and when I grind down, he throws his head back with a groan that’s almost pained. He bites his lip, glancing at the stairs like he’s reminding himself to behave.
His daughters are upstairs. We shouldn’t.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, then kisses me once more, deep and needy. One hand explores under my sweater, palm hot against my ribs, knuckles grazing the underside of my breast through my bra. My nipples harden, desperate for more contact. “You feel so good, Doc.” His voice is deep and husky.
I’ve been wanting to be with Jamie since the day I arrived.
But nothing could have prepared me for how aroused I am.
My core pulses, aching for friction. I’m torn between wanting to go slow and dropping down on my knees to give him thanks for waking up a carnal part of me that has been dormant for so long.
I love the way he’s looking at me. I’m making sounds I didn’t know I could make. Needy gasps and whimpers that should embarrass me but don’t because he’s making them too.
I grind faster. Under my sweater, he yanks my bra down and gently flicks my nipple. I gasp loudly, needing more.
“We have to be quiet,” he exhales sharply, and his hand wraps around my mouth, spanning ear to ear. “This okay?”
I nod, savoring the lack of oxygen. The hardness in his pants digs into my thigh. I readjust so I’m rubbing my clit over his length. He looks up at me and lets out a strained laugh.
I wish his pants were off.
I moan into his skin, and he shushes me. Jamie is in control, so I close my eyes and let my mind focus on only my pleasure.
Has it ever felt like this?
Parker was always asleep by the time I got home. I’d plop into bed, and he’d wake just enough to kiss my neck without opening his eyes, pull me close for maybe ninety seconds of mechanical thrusting, then roll away with a breathless “You good, babe?”
This is nothing like that.
This is Jamie’s touch silencing me, his pants hot and hungry, the way he watches me like he knows exactly what I need.
“I want you inside of me,” I mumble into his hand, rolling my spine.
“I told you we were taking it slow.” He smacks my ass. “Or did you forget?”
“No.” I bite at his rough, calloused palm.
“I’ve been picturing you grinding over me since I saw you in that red slip. Did you wear that for me?”
I can only nod. He groans, and it’s my turn to cover his mouth. I stare into his deep, green eyes. Lost in the lust inside of them.
I leave my mind behind as I rock against him, feeling myself get wetter, and his pelvis bucks up to meet me.
We find a rhythm together, clumsy and perfect and absolutely obscene, and I can feel my orgasm building.
I haven’t had one since months ago when I used my vibrator in the shower.
But with Jamie below me, my body hums with pleasure.
“Joy,” he chokes against my sternum. “I’m gonna—fuck, I can’t—”
His gaze never breaks from mine as his entire body goes rigid beneath me. His hold hardens at my hips, keeping me still while he convulses beneath me.
For a long moment, neither of us moves.
His heart hammers with mine. A hot liquid seeps through my pants between us.
He came in his jeans.
Jamie rubs the back of his neck. “That was, Jesus. I haven’t done that since high school. I haven’t had sex in years. I—” He cups the back of his bicep nervously.
I don’t know why, but I find it endearing.
I take his face in mine and kiss him. Pour everything I can’t say into it. Thank you for making me forget myself, for making me feel safe, for reminding me that I’m still sexy and desirable.
I pull back, kissing the corner of his mouth, his mustache soothing against my lips. I kiss his cheek and forehead. His emerald eyes have deepened to the color of pine trees.
“You okay?” I whisper.
“Better than okay.” His teeth find my ear. “That was—you’re—”
“Dad?”
We freeze.
Honey’s voice drifts down from upstairs, sleepy and small. “I had a bad dream.”
Jamie closes his eyes briefly, head tilted toward the stairs. “Duty calls.”
“Go.” I climb off his lap carefully, smoothing down my sweater. “She needs you.”
He stands, adjusting himself, curly hair completely destroyed from my fingers. “Will you still be here when I come back down?”
It’s too soon to be feeling so close to him, and I’m only here for a couple more weeks. I can’t get attached to whatever this is.
“I should probably head to the cabin,” I say gently. “Let you handle dad stuff. Plus”—I gesture at the couch, at us, at the evidence of what just happened—“we both need a minute to…process.”
“Dad?” Honey calls again, more insistent.
“Coming, chickadee!” He turns back to me and catches my hand. Brings it to his lips and kisses my knuckles. Such a simple gesture that somehow feels more intimate than everything we just did. “Thank you. For tonight. For the girls. For…all of it.”
My throat tightens. “Anytime, Cowboy.”
He grins, then jogs toward the stairs. Pauses halfway up. “Joy?”
“Yeah?”
“I really like you.” He says it simply, honestly. Like it’s the easiest truth in the world.
Heat floods through me, different from before. “I really like you too.”
His smile could power the entire state.
Then he’s gone, footsteps disappearing down the upstairs hall.