Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Sinclair
As soon as I wake up, my eyes pop open to see the red heart-shaped card. I must have spent fifteen minutes studying it before I fell asleep last night.
I don’t know why it touched me as profoundly as it has.
After Jameson and I finished going through the cardboard boxes last night, I told him I was tired and needed to get to bed.
It wasn’t a complete lie. I needed to get to my bed. I wanted a few minutes alone while I sat on it and studied the Valentine’s Day card.
It was a touching tribute to the friendship that I shared with Jameson when we were kids. We’d often exchange notes and silly jokes written on pads of paper that Jameson’s mom bought for us.
His pad had a J on the top of each paper. Mine was embossed with an S in pink font.
I kept every note that Jameson wrote to me. I haven’t looked at them in years, but I know they’re in a box at my apartment.
That’s where I plan on putting this Valentine’s Day card too.
It’s a reminder of the most important friendship I’ve ever had.
A knock at the guestroom door sends Dudley into full-on guard dog mode. He jumps to all fours and barks three times, warning whoever is on the other side of the door that a small, furry creature is waiting for them.
“Sin!” Jameson calls out. “Are you awake?”
I tug the lightweight blanket tighter around me. After Jameson opened the door to let Duds into my room the other night, I swore I’d start sleeping in panties and a tank top, but I tried that. It lasted ten minutes before I tore the clothing off and tossed it on the floor.
I’ve slept in the nude since I moved out of my parents’ home. It’s comfortable, so I’m sticking to it.
“I’m awake,” I say. “What is it?”
“Can I come in?”
“No!” I blurt out. “Stay out!”
Dudley adds his warning with another round of light barking.
“Fine.” I can hear the exasperation in Jameson’s voice. “I found your bra in my bed.”
Startled by that, I scramble to grab my robe. I wrap it around me, giving the end of the sash an extra hard tug to make double sure the knot is secured.
I swing open the door to find Jameson in a gray suit. The light blue shirt underneath is unbuttoned. His pants are undone. “You can’t go to work like that.”
He glances down at his bare chest and stomach before he shoots me a look. “I’m in the middle of getting dressed.”
I point a finger at his face. “Finish.”
His hands drift down the shirt. He begins buttoning it, leaving the top two undone. “What were you doing in my bed, Sin?”
“What? I haven’t been in your bed.” I try to laugh it off, but instead of a light chuckle, the sound that escapes me sounds like a screech mixed with a scream.
He smiles. “I’ll take that to mean you were indeed in my bed.”
I shake my head. “No! It’s a no!”
His gaze scans my face. “Why was your bra in my bed?”
I shoot him a look meant to convey how utterly confused I am. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I haven’t even set foot in your bedroom.”
He smirks. “Your bra did.”
“You’re talking nonsense,” I toss one of my classic lines at him.
He shakes his head. “I speak the truth. There is a red lace bra in my bed.”
I tap my bare foot on the floor. “Maybe that red lace bra belongs to a woman you brought home.”
“Yeah, no.” He shakes his head. “I haven’t brought any women here, Sinclair, and I won’t. The bra must belong to you.”
Frustrated by how ridiculous this conversation is, I glance over my shoulder. “My red bra is in here, so you are obviously suffering from a memory lapse. You must have forgotten that you fucked someone, and she left her red bra behind.”
His arms cross his chest. “Do I strike you as a guy who forgets the women he fucks?”
I mimic his stance. “Actually, you do.”
He huffs out a humorless laugh. “You’ve got me all wrong. I remember everything about every woman I’ve ever slept with.”
That makes my skin crawl, but I’m waist deep in this argument now, so I won’t back down. “What’s the name of the last woman you slept with?”
He scratches the side of his nose. “Melissa. It was in New Mexico about two weeks before I left to come home.”
“So she’s your girlfriend?”
“No,” he answers quickly. “We met at a bar, and we fucked. It was for fun. I’ll never see her again.”
I drop my gaze to the floor. I feel both envy and relief at that.
“Name the last guy you slept with.”
My head pops up. “What? Why? We aren’t talking about some boxer briefs being left in my bed. We’re talking about the bra in yours, and clearly, Melissa was not your last lover.”
“Clearly,” he enunciates both syllables. “She was because my dick has been in my pants since I landed in Manhattan. The bra is yours, Sinclair. Own up to it.”
I turn on my heel and march toward where I left my red lace bra.
“I’ll go get it,” Jameson announces.
I don’t acknowledge that because I’m too busy searching for my bra.
I know I threw it on the armchair in the corner when I took it off the other day.
I toss a pair of jeans out of the way and a shirt.
By the time I’m at the bottom of the pile of clothes that I’ve thrown there, I can hear Jameson behind me, clearing his throat.
I turn to see him holding my bra in his hand. He’s clinging to one strap while it dangles in the air. “Is this what you’re looking for, Sinclair?”
I march toward him. “How? How the hell did it end up in your bed?”
He holds it above his head, just out of my reach. “You tell me.”
“Give it to me,” I demand.
“Why were you in my bed?” he asks with a smirk. “If I tear it apart, will I find the matching panties?”
“That’s not funny. I was not in your bed. I will never be in your bed.”
Our eyes lock. His lips part. Nothing comes out of them but a heavy exhale.
The moment is broken by the sound of the clanking of the tags on Dudley’s collar as he runs toward us. We both turn to see him with a black sock in his mouth as he races back into my room to jump into the bed.
“Hey!” Jameson calls out to my dog. “That’s mine.”
Dudley ignores him as he crawls under the covers of my bed with the sock.
I point a finger at him. “That’s how it happened.”
Jameson lowers his hand to grant me access to my bra. I snatch it away from him.
“My mistake,” he whispers.
I clutch my bra close to my chest. I can’t believe my dog buried my bra in Jameson’s bed. Wanting this to end now, I gaze down at my bare wrist. “It’s time for me to get to work.”
“What?” He chuckles. “Is it half past that freckle? You’re not wearing a watch.”
Busted.
“I was checking out a scratch I had there.” I rub the spot that has never been scratched. “I know it’s almost time for me to go to work.”
“Because Berk wants you there by seven?”
I didn’t bother to check the time on my phone when I woke up. That’s my mistake, and it’s costing me loads of embarrassment now.
I double down on the avoidance technique, hoping it’ll work for me this time. “Why are you going to the office this early?”
“I’m not,” he states simply. “I’m meeting someone for breakfast.”
Curiosity nips at me. “Holden?”
That sends Jameson’s head back in laughter. “Funny, Sin. That’s fucking funny.”
“So it’s Kalon?”
“Nah.” He looks me dead in the eyes. “She’s way prettier than Kalon will ever be.”
She?
Before he left New York, there were a lot of ‘shes’ in Jameson’s life. He didn’t shy away from hitting on women and taking them home with him. Apparently, that hasn’t changed since he moved away.
He stares at me as if he’s waiting for another question to pop out of me, but there’s no way in hell I’m giving him that satisfaction.
I paste a smile on my lips, hoping that it looks at least semi-natural. “Enjoy your breakfast. I need to jump in the shower and then take Dudley for a walk.”
He glances toward the bed. “I think he fell asleep. I need to go. My date awaits.”
Before I can come up with anything to say in response, he turns and exits the hallway on his way to meet a woman for breakfast.
How the hell did this living arrangement become this complicated so quickly?