Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
It was a sticky ninety degrees outside, not a cloud in sight. The kind of day that demanded as little clothing as possible to be worn, drinking copious amounts of frosty beer, and then plunging into the chilled depths until the last streak of sunlight left the sky.
Jamie’s birthday party was lively inside the two-story boathouse, which was tucked along the shore.
Crisp white linen daybeds anchored the wraparound porch on each level, ensuring that a bad view of the lake was impossible.
Liza had catered Jamie’s favorites: tangy hot chicken sliders on glossed honey butter biscuits, crispy steak and jalapeno quesadillas, chopped salad, and charcuterie and fruit standing at attention on rustic wooden platters.
The pièce de résistance, however, was a seven-layer caramel cake with homemade butter pecan ice-cream.
Icy buckets of beer were parked every few feet and makeshift bar stations slung top-shelf hospitality at every turn.
A fleet of jet skis and a pontoon boat beckoned like a mirage, and plump inner tubes towered on the slated swimming platform halfway across the lake.
Tex and Sammi had truly outdone themselves. Jamie always appreciated them, but this show of love drove home how much of a family they’d become. Even if that family had a trove of secrets. But he wouldn’t dwell on that right now.
Jamie found Cory and his wife, Priyanka, perched on a daybed on the ground level. As Cory bounced their squealing daughter, Mia, on his knee, he looked so content. Priyanka laughed as Mia squished fistfuls of her thick, raven hair.
That kind of peace once seemed impossible. But that was before Brinton filled Jamie up with promise.
“Happy birthday,” Cory and Priyanka shouted in unison as Jamie plunked down next to Cory.
“Thank you for coming. It means everything to me,” Jamie said, beaming.
“Well, Sammi threatened to take a switch to my ass.” Cory laughed.
Priyanka narrowed her big, amber eyes and smiled. “That’s because you deserve it.”
“Yeah, but I like it when you do it,” Cory countered, quickly pecking Priyanka’s sculpted cheek.
“We wouldn’t miss this for the world,” she said through an infectious giggle.
Jamie squeezed Priyanka’s shoulder and playfully swatted Cory on the head. He tickled Mia’s belly. She gurgled gleefully, outstretching her teeny arms so Jamie could scoop her up.
The three friends caught up on Jamie’s album, upcoming tour, and the incoming freshman sure to be the next great University of Tennessee quarterback. Eventually, Cory and Priyanka said their good-byes, taking Mia inside the air-conditioned main house.
Thankfully, Jamie still hadn’t seen Kendall, who he needed like a bad case of jock itch. If it happened, he’d deal with that too. For now, he was alone.
There was no sign of Brinton. He shouldn’t have been worried, but he was eager to see her. Hopefully, she’d let him run his hands through her braids again later, which, good Lord, made him hotter than tailgate asphalt.
Jamie smiled at the thought and pulled out his phone to text her when she appeared on the path leading to the shoreside bar as Kacey Musgraves’s “High Horse” blared.
She practically glowed in her orange mini-dress.
The ruffled hem barely skimmed the top of those lush thighs he loved so much.
She had piled her braids in a high bun, and her dark sunglasses made her look quietly commanding.
Sexy and mysterious. Brinton trotted toward Sammi, who squeezed her then got her acquainted with a boisterous group at the bar.
Today was definitely looking up.
“We need drinks,” Sammi screeched, hooking one arm around Brinton’s waist and raising the other to the sky. “Let’s tie one on.”
Brinton recognized Sammi’s date, Man-Bun from the Skylight, who nodded and smiled before leaning across the bar to order. She’d been at this party for two minutes and already knew it would be miles apart from the cookout on her first night. That was decidedly Jamie Crawford Sr.’s crowd.
This party, however, was Jamie Jr. to a T.
String bikini–clad girls balanced on the sturdy shoulders of men ripped from an Abercrombie & Fitch ad.
There was an impeccable yet unexpected soundtrack of hip-hop and contemporary country music.
The vibe encapsulated Iris’s young elite letting their hair down, free from the watchful eyes of their conservative elders.
A few moments later, Man-Bun, whom Brinton later learned to call Rhett, returned with three icy mason jars of what looked like lemonade.
Brinton took a whiff. The telltale bite of whiskey, lemon, ginger, and honey was a suplex to her senses.
“It’s called a Tennessee Beesting.” Sammi beamed. “Something Jamie requested. Kinda cute, huh?”
It was really fucking cute. Another secret they got to share.
Brinton clinked glasses with her new friends. They tipped their jars back, then hooted together as the saccharine burn singed their throats.
Sammi flipped her chestnut mane over her shoulder and hugged Brinton again. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too. I’m trying to take some repeated advice to live a little. And I really like Iris.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” Sammi demurely rested a hand on Rhett’s bulging bicep. “Honey, would you mind fixin’ me a slider?”
“Sure, baby,” he said, moon-eyed as he softly kissed her cheek. “How about you, Brinton?”
She shook her head. Sammi waited until Rhett was out of earshot. Her effervescent smile slipped into a saucy smirk. “So listen, you and me. We’re friends, right?”
“Yeah, absolutely.”
“Then we need to get serious. What the hell is going on between you and Jamie?”
Suddenly, Brinton’s throat felt entombed in dust. She took an avoidant gulp from her glass. Of course she was thrilled to bask in the newness of her relationship with Jamie, but what made it so good was that it was theirs. For now, at least. And she wanted to keep it that way.
Sammi wasn’t buying it and narrowed her feline green eyes. “Mmm-hmm, that’s what I thought,” she said, hands perched on her hips.
Brinton cut her eyes back to the lake, where a petite blonde had lost her round of chicken-fight, landing with a resounding splash. She wished they could trade places right about now.
“The article is going great,” Brinton offered, which was true. But the kissing? Oh, the kissing was even better.
“I know you’re here to write this story, and I’m supposed to be impartial. But I feel like y’all have something special, so I’m gonna tell you what I told him. In the interest of the album, and his daddy, if y’all are gonna sneak around, be…” Sammi tilted her head. “Careful.”
Brinton’s cheeks flushed. “Oh…we haven’t, like, slept together.”
Not that her temporal lobe wasn’t smoldering with impulse.
Sammi threw back her head and cackled. It still managed to sound pretty.
“Honey, I meant to be mindful in public.” She casually swirled her pointer finger across the bobbing heads and gyrating bodies around them. “Eyes everywhere. So, you gotta be discreet.” She winked for added measure.
“Noted,” Brinton said, grinning.
They embraced again as Rhett approached with a plate of chicken sliders. Sammi’s eyes lit up. She took a bite and groaned with delight. Bumping her hip against Brinton’s, she whispered, “Don’t look now, but here comes the birthday boy.”
Their eyes locked as he approached, as they always seemed to.
Brinton couldn’t tell if she was too warm from the sunshine or the liquor. Or was it Jamie himself?
He wore navy swim trunks and flip-flops but no shirt, daring her to trace the map of taut muscle and lightly sheened skin. He’d gotten some color, which brought out the ash highlights in his elegantly disheveled hair.
Too stunned to speak, she briefly considered the firmness of their no-sex policy. Then she considered the firm V carved into his hips and firm abdominals that flexed as he breathed. Her mouth went dry.
Clearly, she needed to ban the word firm from her vocabulary until this article was done.
“Hey,” she said, breath as floaty as the butterflies in her belly.
“Hey yourself.” He nodded upward at Sammi and Rhett. “Sammi, thank you for the party. I don’t deserve such a beautiful day.”
“Well, that’s certainly true.” She giggled.
He pulled her in for a hug and she squealed, lightly batting him away. Jamie’s eyes settled on Brinton. Slowly, he scanned her body, appreciating things nobody else had. Things she’d never even thought to appreciate.
His teeth scraped over his bottom lip. Her core jumped another hundred degrees.
“You like the drink?” he asked.
She took a long, languid sip. “I like it a lot.”
He smiled at that, picking up on what had become their silent code: I want you. I see you.
“Perfectly balanced,” Rhett said, eyeing his now-empty glass. “That zip at the end”—he hooted again—“that’ll put some hair on your chest. How’d you come up with it?”
Jamie laughed, then raked a hand through his hair. Brinton could watch his bicep jump from the motion all day.
His eyes latched to hers again. “Mother Nature’s got a way of putting things together just right.”
She sucked in a breath.
“He’s a poet and a gentleman.” Sammi laughed and took Rhett by the hand. “So, we’re fixin’ to head out. You two have fun though.”
Sammi was, undoubtedly, the best wingwoman who ever lived.
Rhett drained his drink in about a millisecond before Sammi dragged him on the path to the main house.
“Nice seeing y’all again,” he called out.
Jamie pointed out across the lake. “I could take us on the boat for another interview, by that swimming platform. It’s a little quieter, so you can record it. Plus, the boat is covered, so it’ll be nice to get some shade.”
Brinton smirked. “Can I trust you not to throw me overboard?”
He smiled, blue and green pyrotechnics popping in his eyes. “Guess we’ll find out, huh?”