34. Bryn
Chapter thirty-four
Bryn
“Have you figured out how you’re going to steal that promotion from that asshat Kyle, Bryn?” Izzy asks from the kitchen.
“Isabel!” my mom chides.
“No. Not yet,” I reply glumly. “I’ve got a few ideas of upgrades I can propose, but the best one would take a level of financing and outside coordination that I just don’t have access to.”
“I still think it’s a brilliant idea,” Izzy says. “I hate having to re-enter my specific order on all the different apps each time I try to get food. It would be so much more convenient if there was one that just knows what I want at each place. It’s not like people actually change up their fast-food orders. At least, people who aren’t psychopaths.”
It’s the last Sunday in December, and Jameson and I are over at my parents’ for our weekly family dinner. Kelsey and Izzy are helping Mom in the kitchen while Jameson and I set the table. Dad has been keeping us all entertained by sharing random facts from that day’s newspaper.
Sunday-night dinners with the family are part of the new routine Jameson and I have fallen into since we returned to Wild Bluffs tired, and, at least in my case, extremely sore from our weekend together in Denver. The man’s body is addictive.
After we finished dinner that first night in Denver, we started round two out on the couch, which ended with me riding his face, his tongue wringing a level of pleasure out of me that I hadn’t known existed. I, being the considerate partner that I am, had returned the favor by dropping to my knees and sucking him off right there in the living room.
After another round in the shower where he took me hard and fast from behind, we climbed into bed, and I slowly rode him, barely moving my hips until we both saw stars.
I’d woken up both mornings in Denver to his hard cock poking me in the back as he cuddled me from behind. I didn’t care that he was sleeping, I was happy to indulge the silent demand from his erection—it is my favorite body part of his, after all.
Once back in Wild Bluffs, we spent as much time together as possible. Jameson joined Kelsey and me to watch whatever sporting event happened to be on most nights before we snuck up to my room to fool around or out to the golf course to spend the night in his room.
I would come back to Kelsey’s or go to Izzy’s office to work for the day. Jameo quickly learned he could buy my friends’ and family’s affection by bringing in lunch or cookies to wherever I was working that day. Needless to say, I’ve not been as productive in the last month as I would’ve liked, especially with the promotion growing ever closer.
Today is the first day Jameson has been back in town since the holidays, and we are enjoying the last bit of time we have together before he heads to Hawaii for the first tournament of the new year. I’ve already told my parents we have to head out right after dinner to head to a New Year’s Eve party at the country club. They don’t need to know that I have no intention of actually attending the party besides the obligatory stop-in from the celebrity-in-residence.
“Jameson!” my mom calls from where she stands, glaring at the top of her cupboards. “Could you come help me get down that bowl?”
Putting the last fork down on the table, Jameson heads toward my mom with casual steps. “Sure thing, Mrs. Harper.”
Mom rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Jen, Jameson. You can call me Jen.”
Dad, the pain in the ass that he is, gruffly calls out, “Feel free to still call me Mr. Harper, young man.”
I flip my dad the bird and he chuckles before putting his readers back on, hiding the twinkle in his eye. He leans down to rub their dog, JoJo, behind the ears before resuming his reading.
My parents were decently strict growing up. We always had curfews on the earlier side, and we were only allowed to go on group dates until we turned 16. But now that we’re all grown, they’ve really relaxed. They’re more like trusted advisers at this point than authority figures.
Jameson catches my exchange with my dad and shoots me a wink. “Yessir, Mr. Harper. I’d never dream of calling you anything else…sir.”
My dad flashes me a “God save me from these people” look that I’ve seen him wear a thousand times before. It wasn’t easy for him, being the only man in a house of women. It was especially hard when my sisters and I were seventeen, fifteen, and thirteen. I’m still traumatized by the fights we got into.
As we all sit down for dinner, Izzy asks, “So, Jameson, are you planning on playing in most of the Tour’s events this year? Or will you be taking some of the tournaments off?”
He looks at me before replying, “I’ll be at all of them at least through the Masters in April. After that, I’m hoping to be able to cut back to about two a month, but a lot of that will depend on how I’m doing.”
Mom looks back and forth between me and Jameson. “That sounds like it might be…difficult.”
She is not wrong. We’ve fallen into a rhythm of fun, fucking, and friendship. It has been amazing, but, as Jameson loaded up his suitcase to head to his parents’ house for Christmas, it also hit me that it wasn’t real life. At least, not what our real life would look like.
Jameson’s career essentially has him on the road every weekend from January through August, and I travel almost every other week for my job. In a moment of minor freakout, I had texted Izzy and Becca about what to do, and their insightful guidance had been, to quote Becca, “Keep riding that train to pound town until something forces you to jump off.”
And honestly, I’d taken her up on that advice. Jameson and I FaceTimed multiple times a day while he was with his family for Christmas, at least one of which led to us locking ourselves away to have phone sex. Making him come in person is a thrill, but watching him stroke his strong hand over his thick length while he watches me pleasure myself…damn. It made me glad my vibrator is rechargeable.
“Ahh.” He runs a hand through his hair, clearly not missing her implied concern. “It will be busy, but I’m really looking forward to the couple that Bryn is going to get to join me at.”
She turns her concern toward me. “Well, that’s nice. Where will you be joining him? Anywhere fun?”
I twirl my spaghetti around my fork before replying, “Mom, he’s a golfer. The only places they play are fun. It has to be warm and have enough rich people to warrant a fancy golf course. Professional golfers are kinda entitled babies who can’t stand to be cold.”
Jameson’s hand finds my leg, squeezing tightly.
I cut my eyes toward him. “What?! It’s true!” I can’t keep my straight face and let out a laugh. “Fine,” I acquiesce. “Jameson is not necessarily a baby when it comes to cold. But you should meet his friend JT. He rolled into Thanksgiving like it was the middle of a blizzard in northern Canada or something.”
Izzy, clearly picking up on my distraction technique, pulls the conversation back to me with an evil grin on her face. Okay, maybe it isn’t actually an evil grin, but I feel it is implied as she asks, “So how many of his tournaments are you going to get to go to, Bryn?”
“About one a month lines up with my schedule.”
“Oh.” My mom’s voice echoes some of the devastation I’m doing my best not to acknowledge. “Well, that will be nice. And you all seem to enjoy talking on the phone, so I’m sure that will help.”
Jameo squeezes my leg again, lighter this time, just letting me know he sees me. “I haven’t had a chance to share this with Bryn yet, but I’m also hoping to rent one of the smaller cottages out at the country club for the foreseeable future as well. I got an offer on my house in Florida this afternoon, and it would be nice to have a home base to come back to in between everything.”
I feel the side of my lip curling up into a small smile, hope filling my chest. Maybe, just maybe, we can make this thing work. The last month has been amazing, but dating a professional athlete of any kind is hard, and golfers travel more than most, with tournaments taking them across not just the United States but the world.
I reach down, giving Jameson’s hand a tight squeeze of my own, noticing the pleased smile that lights up his face.
“That’s great news,” my mom responds when it’s clear I’m not going to say anything about his announcement. “Please know we’re always around if you need anything.” She pauses before continuing, “I guess I didn’t know you had listed your house in Florida.”
“Yeah,” Jameson responds. “I decided about a month ago that it was time for me to let it go. It just wasn’t the right fit for me anymore.”
“Are you looking to buy somewhere else?” Kelsey asks from her seat at the end of the table.
Jameson’s eyes stray to mine before snapping back ahead. “I’m not sure yet. It feels like my life is a bit in flux right now, so I don’t really plan on buying anything new until I know where I want to be.”
“Ah, the nomadic lifestyle,” my dad chimes in. “Sure is popular these days.”
I reply cheekily, “All the cool kids are doing it, Dad. I actually peer-pressured Jameo into it by threatening him with a swirly.”
“I think that’s just called assault at that point, B, not peer pressure,” Jameson jokes.
“Well,” Kelsey says. “Bullying aside, I’m glad you’ve got a place at the club. I can’t house any more wandering travelers. One nomad just dropping by my house whenever it pleases her is enough for me.”
“Rude, Kelsey. I thought I was your favorite roommate.”
“Nope. I just keep you around for Jack,” she shoots back.
“It’s tough when you lose out to a guy who drinks water from the toilet, but I respect your decision. He is cooler than me.”
After dinner wraps up and we have to leave to head to WBCC, we give out hugs to my family, wishing them a happy New Year. Jameson hugs them all except my dad. As they shake hands, Izzy pulls me into a tight hug, whispering in my ear, “Never let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game.”
“Did you just quote A Cinderella Story to me?”
“Yup. Felt it applied. And, it turns out, it’s actually a Babe Ruth quote.” She glances over my shoulder at Jameo. “I’m just saying. I’ve never seen you as…grounded…as you’ve been the past month. Don’t give up on that just because it’s not going to be easy.”
“Izzy, I’m not—”
She holds up her hands in defense. “I’m just saying, Bryn. Do with it what you will.”
As we head for my car, I grab Jameson’s hand, a slight skip in my step. Izzy is right. This might be hard, but we can definitely do it. And being with Jameson is worth it—he’s worth the travel, the time apart, everything. I just hope he feels the same way about me.