7. Jaime
Chapter 7
Jaime’s life was a complete disaster.
The entire world knew his name, and was currently speculating that he could be an accomplice to Vera Novikova-Dugan’s murder. Or maybe her heartbroken ex-lover, or her long-lost son, or whatever other wild theory that had spun out of hand since his identity was leaked to the media four hours ago.
His brother no longer wanted to be in the same room with him, and didn’t trust him to make his own decisions about his personal safety and well-being. To make matters worse, he’d hired a security agency that seemed to only employ Greek gods, one of which was, hands down, the most attractive man Jaime had ever met.
Who also happened to be Finn, the man he’d asked out and then stood up over a year ago because he’d been knocked out and shoved in a closet the night of their date.
Now, Finn was standing in Jaime’s bedroom, pointedly not looking at the pair of boxer briefs hanging from the hamper that Jaime had frantically chucked all of his dirty laundry into right before they’d entered the room.
Oh, and Jaime had just overheard him exchange I love you’s with the other giant, hunky bodyguard standing in his room.
A complete, and total disaster.
Did I really say that his voice was blue? Out loud? God, who says shit like that?
Jaime had made it embarrassingly clear that he remembered Finn, but he hadn’t really acknowledged him back. What if he’d spent the last year full of guilt and shame over the way he’d left things with Finn, longing to see him again, only for the man to not even remember him?
Sedate me, please.
The two men made a quick sweep of the room, briefly peering into his closet and bathroom before going back downstairs. He quickly flicked the boxer briefs fully into the hamper, but blushed when he turned to see Finn standing in the doorway, staring at him.
Again.
The man stared quite a bit, and Jaime couldn’t decide if it was because he didn’t want to say anything, or that he just wasn’t very loquacious. Probably the former. Jaime hadn’t made a very good first impression, or second, if you counted the time he no-showed on their date and then ghosted him.
First, Finn had to rescue him from panicking at the swarm of foam microphones shoved in his face, and then he had to coax Jaime into seemingly caring whether he lived or died at the hands of a hypothetical hitman.
It wasn’t that he didn’t care—he very much did not want to die, and he especially didn’t want to be murdered. But so much of his life had been out of his control this past year. So many of his joys and passions had been taken from him, he just wanted the option of whether or not to let the two hot bodyguards—who are in love with each other—invade his privacy for the next two weeks.
He really shouldn’t be so hung up on that last bit, but Finn was still staring and it was starting to give him a complex.
“Um, sorry about the mess. I really have been mostly alone in this house for…a while, now. I’ll make sure the sheets in your room are clean before you sleep there tonight.”
Finn nodded. “It’s ok, really. I understand. Or, well, I don’t. I honestly can’t imagine what things have been like for you. But I want to. Understand, that is.”
Jaime wanted to reach up and smooth out the little crease that had formed between Finn’s eyebrows.
Yikes.
Finn went on, “I didn’t get the chance to say, before. That I haven’t forgotten about you. I wondered where you’d gone, when you… disappeared. I hoped you were ok. And now that I know a little of what’s happened in your life since then, I wish that it hadn’t. And, if my timing is right, and the night of our—of when we planned to meet was the same night as the murder…” he huffed.
“I’m sorry. I wish I could have done more, then. But Silas and I will do everything we can to make sure no one hurts you, now,” Finn finished with a rush, his brown eyes warm and bright.
Damn him, but Jaime believed his earnestness. Clearly, he’d missed the chance for anything to happen between them—Finn was with Silas now. And why wouldn’t he choose a strong, capable man who could look after himself instead of someone weak and pathetic like Jaime?
His job is to protect people, of course he’s like this with all of his clients.
Jaime didn’t want to be anyone’s job, anyway. He could look after himself, and he’d show Finn and his brother that. “Thank you, Finn. I appreciate you and Silas for helping. I’ll do my best to not be more work for you both.” He tried to smile. “And, there was nothing you could have done, then. It didn’t feel like it at the time, but, all things considered, everything happened fairly quickly. I wasn’t stuck in there for long. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
He was the one who should apologize for the way he’d left things, but that line between Finn’s eyebrows was back, and before he could say anymore, Silas was hollering up the stairs. “Monroe PD is here to break up the crowd, want me to go out and talk to them?”
Finn shot a concerned look outside, and turned away. “No, I’ll do it and bring the truck around when they’re gone.”
He tromped downstairs, Jaime following behind. Just before opening the front door, he turned around to face them, voice stern. “Hopefully this won’t take long. You two hang tight, and stay inside.”
Silas’s grin was cheeky. “Yes, sir.”
Awkward silence descended as Finn left, and the large man turned around to face Jaime, giving him another of those easy smiles that belied his height and stature. Silas seemed more like a gentle giant, than a real monster. Although, given his profession, that ferociousness was probably there, well-hidden under his smiling eyes and the gentle way he moved.
Silas’s complexion was darker than Finn’s, more of a warm bronze that was emphasized by his near-black hair pulled away from his face and dark eyes, and he was even taller than Finn.
Suddenly, the thought of seeing Silas and Sam next to each other popped into his head. With Sam being a few inches shorter than Jaime’s 5’10”, their height difference would be quite something.
However, Sam had never been one to be cowed by someone based on size. Jaime had seen him tear apart larger men with one look and a few well placed words, and had loved every second of it. Hopefully the two wouldn’t clash too much if they ever met. He might be jealous, but he didn’t think Silas was a bad guy and wouldn’t wish Sam’s quick wit turned sour upon the man.
Maybe just one good verbal jab would be ok…
He wished things between him and his brother were still that simple. “Can I get you anything to drink? Water, maybe?”
“Water would be nice, thank you.”
He got the sense that Silas accepted more for Jaime’s comfort, as it gave him something to do. They moved into the kitchen, and Jaime poured him a glass of water as they listened to the sounds of the crowd dissipating outside. Finn shouted something over the din of doors slamming shut and gravel crunching under tires.
If only to break the silence, Jaime said, “I’ll need to go to the grocery store.”
Silas nodded. “No problem, Finn can go with you. He’ll probably need to get a few things of his own while he’s staying here.”
“Is that what you all usually do when you're guarding someone? Get your own groceries and just use their kitchen?”
Silas eased back against the small island, relaxing into their conversation rather than looming. It put Jaime more at ease. “Not often. Most of the time we either camp out in the van and eat fast food, or we are working with clients in shifts and don’t eat very much until we are relieved. This is a bit of a unique situation.”
Jaime cocked his head. “Why?”
Silas paused, head tilting like he was still trying to listen to what was happening outside. Jaime couldn’t hear anything anymore, and assumed most of the crowd had cleared off by now.
Instead of answering his question, Silas asked one of his own. “So, you and Finn knew each other before, yes?”
Jaime went still. Had he really been that obvious?
“It’s ok, I’m not trying to catch you out. It’s just good for us to know, to get ahead of anything should people go digging into your past. Finn told me that you were talking on a dating app before all of this happened.”
“It’s all been deleted, so if anyone goes digging around they won’t find much. But yes, we knew each other before. We were talking, but…” he took a slow, deep breath. “It never went anywhere.”
“Because of that night? Or some other reason?”
Is Silas jealous?
He shouldn’t be. Clearly, he was a better match for Finn. Stronger, more capable. But Jaime was saved from explaining to Finn’s current boyfriend that he still carried a torch—or maybe a forest fire—for him, and would have jumped at the chance to date him if not for the whole ‘being hit upside the head and shoved into a closet on the night of their first date’ thing, because the front door opened and Finn came tromping back inside.
Does he clomp around like a Clydesdale everywhere he goes?
Silas walked out of the kitchen ahead of him, and Jaime rounded the corner just in time to catch Finn shoot Silas a dirty look.
Turning toward Jaime, he schooled his features. “The crowd is gone, and barricades have been set up along the road shoulder fifty yards on either side of the driveway. There will still be increased traffic coming by, and we’ll need to be cautious leaving the house, but it’s better than it was this morning.”
Finn tossed a set of keys to Silas. “The truck is out front. Do you need anything before you leave?”
Silas raised his eyebrows at the dismissal. “I should be asking you that. Need me to bring you anything from the house?”
Do they live together?
Jaime wanted to sink into the floor.
“I’ve got my go bag from the truck. Thanks, though.” Finn lifted the duffle bag he was holding, seeming to deflate from whatever had riled him up outside.
“Call me if you need anything. I mean it. Anything,” Silas said, pointing at Finn in emphasis.
“I will, Si. Talk to you soon.”
Silas hummed, and then left. Jaime noted the empty driveway as Finn once again shut the door and threw the locks into place.
Feeling awkward at having witnessed their goodbye, Jaime made his way back toward the kitchen. “I’ll need to go to the grocery store later today. I usually put in an order ahead of time for pickup; if there’s anything you’d like to get, let me know and I can add it to the list.”
Finn’s heavy steps followed him into the kitchen. “Thank you, yes. I’ll write some things down for you. Do you mind if I use your kitchen while I stay here? I’ll stay out of your way and do my own dishes.”
He leaned back against the island the same way Silas had, and even cocked his head in the same way, as if listening to the truck start up outside and drive off.
They are so similar, even down to their mannerisms.
Well, similar in the sense that they behaved the same and spoke the same, but they didn’t look very much alike. Finn’s skin also had warm undertones, but it was several shades lighter and his sandy blonde hair shone golden in the light, curling around his ears in a short, shaggy cut.
Sure, they were both on the taller side compared to most, but where Silas was a true giant of a man, Finn was a brick wall. He looked like a linebacker with a dark green henley pulled tight across his broad shoulders, and his rolled up sleeves revealed heavily muscled and corded forearms.
Jaime didn’t realize how much of a thing he had for forearms until right now. And hands. What would it feel like for those arms to crowd him up against the kitchen counter? For those hands to bracket his hips, while Finn leaned over and brushed his lips against his neck, grinding into Jaime where they were both hard…
Ok, so maybe he just had a thing for Finn.
“Of course, please use whatever you like. Do you cook very often?” If his voice cracked a bit he blamed it on the rough morning.
Finn’s mouth turned up in a half smile. “I do. I’m actually pretty good at it, if I can say that. What about you? What are your go-to meals?”
Jaime tried not to picture Finn moving about his kitchen in socked feet while he chopped and stirred things in relaxed, sure movements. Would he hum to himself while he cooked? Would his biceps flex as he reached up into the cabinets? Would he cook shirtless? Maybe with just an apron on…
Jesus, pull yourself together.
“What?” he asked, blinking at Finn.
His half smile turned into a smirk, eyes twinkling. “I asked what your favorite things to cook are. If you have standard go-to’s, I’ll work my list around that.”
Jaime’s face flushed all the way to his ears.
You cannot get caught daydreaming about your bodyguard—who’s very much involved with your other bodyguard—cooking in your kitchen, only wearing an apron!
The apron would say, ‘Kiss the Cook.’
Jaime choked on a cough. “Oh. Right. Um, well, I’m not much of a cook to be honest.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sam used to bring around take-out quite a lot. Since he’s stopped coming over I mostly eat frozen meals. A lot of frozen pizza and chicken pot pies,” he chuckled sheepishly.
A muscle flexed in Finn’s jaw. “Your brother doesn’t come visit you anymore? Why? Do you go and see him?”
The abrupt shift in conversation caught Jaime off guard, even though he was the one that mentioned Sam in the first place. “Um, he just doesn’t. He was around for me a lot at the start, right after all this happened. Probably too much. Even before then, too. I think I told you about how our mom died young and our dad checked out, so Sam basically raised me. I imagine it was quite a burden to be a young college student stuck worrying about your teenage little brother.”
Deeply uncomfortable, Jaime shifted on his feet, fingers tangling in the hem of his shirt. “I don’t blame him for needing space from it all. From me. Always having to take care of someone else is a lot. And I can manage on my own, I’m really not as much of an idiot as I made myself look when you got here this morning. I’d just gotten off the phone with the detective, and everything built up and I needed to go talk to Sam, and I forgot about everyone outside. It won’t happen again.”
Fuck, he’d worked himself up again. He could feel his cheeks go red with anger and embarrassment.
That crease was back between Finn’s eyebrows, and he pushed off the counter and stepped toward Jaime. “He told you that you are too much of a burden to be around anymore?”
Jaime could barely make out the words through the rumble in Finn’s voice. “Well, no. Not in so many words. But it was hard at first. I had to stop working, because…” He shook his head. “I wasn’t painting anymore, and with bills and groceries and everything, my savings went quickly. I bought the house outright before, so no mortgage, but Sam helped me out so much with the lawyer and everything else, I know supporting me like that takes a toll. Things should be better after the trial.”
I hope.
Finn’s features softened. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up like that.”
He took another step toward Jaime, standing just an arms length away now, hands at his side. Jaime had to look up to meet his eyes, noticing little flecks of gold in the chocolate brown color. “I did not think you were an idiot this morning, nor have I ever thought that. And I do not think you are weak. I think you witnessed and experienced something horrible, and have been forced to put your life on hold for an entire year because of the threat it poses to you. There is no weakness in enduring that, Jaime.”
His breath caught, and he had to look away or else Finn would see him blinking back tears. “Thank you.”
Clearing his throat, Jaime stepped back. “So, unless you want me to up my usual order of frozen pot pies, write down your grocery list and I’ll make an order for pickup this afternoon.”
Finn stepped back too, seeming to realize how close they’d drifted, but his voice was still gravelly. “How about I cook enough for the both of us while I’m here, yeah? You can’t live off of frozen meals indefinitely.”
Jaime laughed. It was brief, but real, and made him feel lighter than he had in a very long time. “You certainly can, big boy. But I won’t turn down your offer.”
Their eyes connected, and electricity zipped between them as he realized what he’d said.
Oh God, big boy? Really?
Before Jaime could stop himself, his gaze skated downward at the implication, eyes widening at the prominent swell in Finn’s pants. He shifted so the counter would cover his own lower half, because the blood that had previously flushed his face had descended elsewhere at his choice of words and the visual evidence of just how true they were.
Jaime coughed through the croak in his voice. “Cooking. I won’t turn down your cooking. Just tell me to do whatever you want, and I’ll do it. Order! Tell me what groceries to order, and I will.”
Wishing a sinkhole would open up and swallow him whole, Jaime looked anywhere else but at Finn, waiting for him to scoff and make fun of his rambling or tell him this wasn’t going to work, and to look for the sexual harassment complaint in the mail.
Instead, Finn rumbled, “Alright Jaime, I’ll tell you what I want.”
It sounded like he had a bit in his mouth, his voice low and choked. When Jaime focused back on his face he sucked in a sharp breath at how dark Finn’s eyes were—pupils so dilated they nearly eclipsed his irises.
So, relationship with Silas or no, Finn looked like he was aware of, and maybe shared, the attraction that charged the air around them.
A complete, and total disaster, indeed.