CHAPTER 9 #4
I followed Jamie’s gaze through Alderton-Du Ponte’s automatic doors. Sure enough, my ex was visible near the front desk, his bag of golf clubs slung over his shoulder.
My heart kickstarted, but not fluttering at the sight of Dalton. This time, eager to counteract the damage I’d caused with my lie, I was the one who moved first.
I launched myself at Jamie. I wrapped my arms around his waist, juggling my sketchbook in my grip, pressing it against his back as I gripped him. Instead of looking up at him, I laid my cheek to his chest. “Hug me,” I told him.
Jamie’s arms hesitated at his side. “You—you still want to?” He sounded surprised. “You were drawing him, I wasn’t sure if—”
“James Brighton, hug me. Before he sees how awkward we look.”
With his book in hand, Jamie’s arms came up and drew me closer. The hug was stiff, and Jamie’s body was tense, but I focused on his steady heartbeat against my ear.
Don’t be mad at me, I wanted to whisper to him. Don’t be mad at me for still thinking of him. I’m trying not to.
And then the moment shifted. A second ticked by, and the stiffness melted into something more relaxed.
Jamie readjusted his book at my back, one hand holding his wrist as he squeezed me closer.
He engulfed me easily, his arms creating a warm bubble as the residual tension between us seemed to ebb away.
“Did I catch you off guard?” I murmured, shifting a little closer against him.
“I’m still winning,” he answered immediately. His voice vibrated underneath my ear. “I caught you more off guard.”
I huffed. “I didn’t realize we’d been comparing levels of caught off guardness.”
“We are.” Jamie’s voice dropped to a whisper. “And I’m winning.”
The warmth of Jamie seeped in, the way it always did, and my pulse slowed just enough to stop tripping over itself.
His own heartbeat thudded beneath my ear—strong, familiar, grounding.
For a moment, I forgot about my absolutely stupid lie, only thinking about how perfectly I fit into Jamie’s arms. His hold was steady, and his scent was familiar in a way that made my head spin.
One of my hands held my sketchbook, but the other slid up Jamie’s back, feeling him through the material of his shirt. Again, not overly muscular, but firm. Something stirred in my stomach, and I blinked at the sky that was beginning to dissolve into a sunset over his shoulder.
My fingertips just barely came up to the hard edge of Jamie’s shoulder blade when he sucked in a breath, arms loosening to pull back.
His eyes were magnetized back to mine, the brown seeming soft and gooey in the light.
The sun had dipped lower, casting a pinkish, golden glow across his skin.
Something that stirred the hue of his brown eyes.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked him, the words tumbling out of me.
The strange look faltered, almost with something like confusion, but he said, “I’m looking at you the way I’ve always looked at you.”
And then, without hesitating, Jamie pressed his lips to my forehead.
A gasp slipped out of me at the tender contact. Jamie’s lips were warm against my skin, and oh-so soft, and I blinked at the way his shirt billowed out a bit as he leaned forward. I could see the base of his throat, and could see it bob a little as he swallowed hard.
He’s so winning, I thought in a daze, because yet again, he’d surprised me. He was way too good at flipping the Romance Switch. I no longer could hear Jamie’s heartbeat, but wanted to. I wanted to press closer, to feel him against me again. He’s way too good at pretending he loves me.
My eyes fluttered closed, my palm slipping down his back.
And my iced coffee slid from my fingertips, smashing to the ground.
Jamie jerked back first, but still held my arm as we pulled away from each other. The valet appeared out of nowhere—I hadn’t seen him pull up in my car—and rushed to say something like, “It isn’t the first time we’ve cleaned up a spilled iced coffee,” but I could barely hear him.
I looked back through the country club doors. Dalton still stood there, turned toward the lobby doors now, his gaze on Jamie and me through the glass. He was looking, but had he seen it all? Had he seen us hugging, seen Jamie kissing me, or had he only turned at the sound of my coffee falling?
It was a strange thought, that Jamie and I could’ve put on a performance that no one saw. It almost made it feel real.
And that strange thought left me dizzy.
“Daisy?” Jamie called from where he stood at the open driver’s door. One hand curved along the top of the roof, the other still lightly holding his things. “You good?”
His lips were parted; the same lips that had kissed me not once now, but twice. They were tilted up, too, as if he was celebrating the fact that he’d, once again, caught me off guard.
I ran my hand through my hair, pushing the red locks back out of my face, trying to ignore the strange beat of my heart. “Please,” I scoffed, starting toward my open car door, avoiding eye contact. “Never better.”