Chapter 21
Evelyn
“They’re eating In-N-Out,” I state, spinning on my wedged heels toward Jameson as I hold my phone in my hand, horror-stricken. When his blank expression doesn’t change, I repeat myself more firmly. “They are eating In-N-Out burgers.”
“And that deserves such an overdramatic reaction because . . .?”
I punch my fist into his arm, but his muscles are so defined, they kind of punch me back. “In-N-Out is my absolute favorite. I only ever get to enjoy it when I’m over here on the West Coast. So . . .”
Jameson holds up a hand to silence me. “I’m not taking you to In-N-Out.”
“Who ever said you were coming with me?” I say with snark, casting a scathing look over him. “I’m going to find out where it is and I’m going to go get my double-double burger before the weekend is over. All on my own.”
“Aw, you really think your big sister will allow you to wander the Vegas strip all by yourself?” Jameson asks mockingly, heightening the pitch of his voice and pouting his lips at me with false sympathy.
“She’s already monitoring your alcohol intake.
When’s bedtime, Evie? Vegas is too dangerous for you. ”
“Well, wandering around on my own is how I encountered you, so you’re right—dangerous as hell,” I say, nonchalantly shrugging my shoulders, hiding the buzz of endorphins that seem to release themselves into my bloodstream whenever I banter with him.
“There’re some scary men out there . . .
Scary men who show up at breakfast and stalk you all the way to a pool party and then try to dance to Marshmello with you.
” I place a hand on my hip and cock my head to the side.
“Well, actually, the only thing that was scary were your dance moves. When were you born? Nineteen sixty-five?”
Jameson doesn’t even try to hide his laughter, and okay, fine—I like the satisfaction I get from having it confirmed that I have the best sense of humor. “Just admit it, baby girl. You’re happy that I’m here.”
“Baby girl?” I repeat, then rapidly shake my head and point a warning finger at him. “No, no, no. No way in hell. Do not start with the pet names. Either you hate me or you’re in love with me, and I honestly can’t tell.”
“Can’t it be both?” Jameson smirks and the sunshine reflects in his green eyes, making them more vibrant than usual.
“Can’t I hate you for trying to rob me, but also be intrigued by the young woman who stayed up late into the early hours of the night with me?
Either way, I want to be around you. To get under your skin?
To get to know you more? To kiss you again? Not sure yet. Still figuring it out.”
To kiss you again . . . I swallow hard and turn toward the drinks so that he can’t see the effect those words have on me, because shit, maybe I’d like to kiss him again, too.
Especially with how damn sexy he’s been looking all afternoon.
There has been more than one occasion where I’ve stopped my gaze from following the etched V-lines of his stomach all the way into the waistband of his black swim shorts.
Despite what I led the others to believe, I’m not entirely appalled at the notion of Jameson flittering around in my peripheral vision all day.
He’s an irresistible piece of eye candy who can handle my sharp tongue.
I’m not getting the vibe from him that this is all some ploy for revenge, either.
He won’t stop taunting me, of course, but the devilish smirk he seems to constantly boast tells me it’s more about the thrill of teasing me than it is about cold, hard payback.
And hey, the dude is grieving the death of his grandfather.
If he wants to distract himself from his sorrows by playing cat and mouse with me, then who am I to stop the poor soul?
I’ll allow it. Hell, I’ll even entertain it, because I’m kind of enjoying it, too.
“Drink up,” I instruct, forcing a fresh vodka cranberry into his hand and then guiding it toward his lips. Over the rim of the cup, his eyes remain on mine as he takes a long swig. Then I ask him, “Are we heading back over to that mosh pit or what?”
Perfectly in sync, we turn our heads toward the stage.
The others are still in the crowd in front of the DJ booth somewhere, probably inhaling other people’s body odor by now.
I convinced myself I was having the best experience of my life—packed in with so many strangers beneath the sizzling Vegas heat, throwing my hands in the air as Marshmello bopped around the DJ booth and smoke canons went off around us—but the moment I’d posted enough videos to my Instagram stories to make my college besties back home jealous, I noped the fuck out of there and dragged Jameson with me.
And, well, he’s ancient. He was more than happy to escape the youth partying around him, and we’ve enjoyed some respite from the chaos back at our reserved couch by the edge of the pool.
“I come out here for the casinos. Not the clubs,” Jameson says.
“I’m pretty sure some guy’s hand was brushing over my ass at one point, so if you’re heading back over, count me out.
I’m staying right here.” Pushing his sunglasses down over his eyes, he sinks down onto the couch and slouches back against the cushions, watching the hectic scenes around him and sipping on the rest of the drink I made him.
“Yeah, I think I’ll—” My phone vibrates in my hand and my very first thought is that Theo forgot to tell me something, but when I glance down at the screen, my body stiffens. “Oh my God. He’s calling me.”
Jameson looks up at me from the couch. “Who? Your brother?”
“No . . .” I say through rigid lips, my eyes still fixated on my phone in my hand as it continues to vibrate, demanding an answer. Despite the heat out here, my entire body feels ice cold. “It’s Michael Montgomery.”
“I don’t know who that is, Evie,” Jameson says with a bemused sigh.
“It’s the guy who wants to ruin my life if I don’t pay him the two thousand dollars I still owe him,” I hiss, even though I don’t mean to take my panic out on Jameson. I look up from my buzzing phone in terror. “He never calls! Only ever texts me.”
Jameson stands back up from the couch, says, “Let me see,” and plucks my phone straight out of my hand. To my complete and utter horror, he answers it. Pressing my phone to his ear, he smiles at me as he says, “Hey. It’s Michael, right?”
“Jameson!” I squeal, trying to snatch my phone back.
Coolly, Jameson holds me at arm’s length, his palm pressing flush against the center of my chest, his fingertips resting over the soft skin between my breasts.
His eyes never leave mine as he keeps my phone pressed to his ear.
“This is Evelyn’s boyfriend. Yeah, I know who you are, and I know why you’re calling.
Evie’s kind of an idiot, but she’s good for what she owes you.
Sorry about the noise, we’re in Vegas at a pool party, and we’d like to enjoy our weekend.
You’ll have your money before school starts, so stop bothering her, or I’ll fly out to Florida and come meet you for myself.
I can’t afford another arrest warrant for battery, man, so have some patience and save us both the hassle, huh?
” He listens, nods. “Yeah. Bye, bye, Michael.”
He hangs up the call and slips my phone back into my hand as I stare at him wide-eyed and slack-jawed.
“What the hell was that?”
“I’m not scared of some college twerp,” Jameson says, rolling out his shoulders. “And no, I don’t actually have an arrest warrant for battery, because I can’t fight for shit. But he doesn’t know that, does he? You’re welcome.”
I blink down at my phone, and the knot of panic in my stomach quickly unravels itself. He didn’t need to do that for me, but maybe now Michael Montgomery will stop hassling me. Still, I need to figure out a way to come up with the money, but that problem can wait.
“Thank you,” I force out with a certain degree of reluctance, because I don’t want to give Jameson the satisfaction of knowing I’m grateful for his help. I’m supposed to be tortured by his presence right now, rolling my eyes and telling him to leave me alone, stomping my feet and folding my arms.
Jameson takes a step closer to me, lowering his head to bring us eye-level. “You can think of a better way to thank me than that, can’t you?”
I raise an incredulous eyebrow at him. “In your dreams.”
“You’re scared,” he says.
“Scared? Scared of what?”
“Kissing me with your sister right over there,” Jameson says, nodding over my shoulder to wherever the hell Addy is in the crowd. “She’d kill you, wouldn’t she? Kissing the guy who’s too old for you.”
I swallow the nervous lump that rises in my throat and keep my eyes locked on Jameson’s, his gaze as challenging as my own. “I can do whatever the hell I want.”
He pushes his sunglasses up into his thick, black hair and edges in closer. The green of his irises is so breathtaking and the daring smirk that toys at the corner of his mouth is all it takes to weaken me at my knees. “Then do it,” he whispers. “Kiss me, Evie. Right here, right now.”
My eyes dip to his mouth, his lips softly parted, waiting for me to take them in my own.
I return to his eyes, his gaze confident and commanding, because he knows he has me right in the palm of his hand.
I’d have shoved him away by now if I wasn’t interested.
Instead, I’m frozen in the face of his formidable presence, fighting all the demons in my head that beg me to close the gap between our mouths, to tear at his hair, to collapse onto the couch with him, bodies entwined.
I so desperately want to kiss him again.
The sexual tension in the air around us is so intense, so heightened, I feel suffocated by it.
“No,” I force out, and Jameson’s gaze softens with disappointment. “No,” I say again, slipping my hand into his, “not here.”