3. Jameson
Chapter three
Jameson
" D one for the day, everyone. You can head home, and I'll see you at six tomorrow morning."
I sigh, looking around the worksite and mentally calculating our timeline.
This is the biggest project we've taken on as a crew, and it's with our friends, no less.
I can't imagine two people I want to see this work out for more than Violet and Brooks.
I just want to make sure we do the place justice.
"Jameson," Max calls out to me. "You want to meet Slate over at McGurdy's for a cold one?"
I open my mouth to say no, but I haven't seen Slate in a while. "Maybe in a few. I'll text you." I should find a way to distract myself. It's like Naomi's hands are burned onto my body. What I wouldn't give to take her up on her offer and let her... take care of me.
I clear my throat and subtly adjust myself. It's not a good idea to get hard on a job site surrounded by your friends. I strategically position my clipboard in front of my crotch as they call out goodbyes. Suddenly, I'm alone, and the only noise is the soft music coming from the studio space.
Like a goddamn siren's call.
Staying as far away from the annex as I can manage, I walk through the building, jotting down notes for tomorrow's list. There was a lot of progress today, which is encouraging, and no thanks to me. I could barely focus after this morning.
After a day of contemplation, I have to admit to myself that something about Naomi makes me want to drop all my walls.
My heart has never felt anything like this before.
Addictive adrenaline… but also peace. It's crazy and makes me feel out of control, which is something I swore I would never allow again.
I sigh. This is ridiculous. I need to get my head on straight and focus on the job. She's moved here, so anything I'm trying to work through right now will still be here next month when I'm not as busy.
Unless she starts dating someone before then.
The tight ball of rage at the center of my chest at that thought is unwelcome, but it's there nonetheless.
As I head back downstairs to the main floor, the light tinkling of metal makes me pause on the top step. I cock my head, listening carefully, and a soft whimper reaches my ears.
"What the hell is that?"
The sun is going down, so I use the flashlight on my phone to lead the way, shining it into each room until I reach the end where we store materials.
We should have full power in the next few days, but for now, we try to use as much daylight as possible, which makes it tricky to navigate the job site at night.
I'm usually gone by now, strictly for safety concerns.
As I angle my phone into the room, the light catches a pile of soft brown fur, and two sad eyes stare back at me.
"Fred!" I run toward him and realize he has his foot stuck in the plastic sheeting the drywall came in. The plastic is lodged under some tools, locking him in place. He pulls his foot, whimpering at the resistance. "Aww, buddy. Hold on."
I quickly lift the air compressor and nail guns off the plastic.
Fred tries to pull his foot free again, but it's still stuck on his toenail.
Bending, I pull out my pocket knife and cut away the plastic.
Once free, Fred stands and shakes before burying his wet nose into my legs and licking my hands in thanks.
"How long have you been up here?" I scratch his ears, then stand, patting my leg so he follows me. The second I notice his limp, I bend and gather him into my arms. "Dude, you are heavier than you look."
Fred happily licks my face, and I grumble at him to stop as I carry him down the hallway back to his home.
"Fred!" Naomi calls from up ahead, her voice filled with worry and dread.
"I've got him. He's okay," I reassure her.
"Oh, my god. Jameson? I'm so sorry."
I turn the corner, my gaze landing on the blue eyes that bring me to my knees every time.
Naomi's brow furrows. "I was making dinner and had my music turned up. I don't know when he got out."
I motion for her to get the door as she rushes over to grab him from me. "I've got him. He was stuck upstairs."
I clear the doorway and set Fred down on his cushy dog bed. He rolls over happily as Naomi buries her face in his fur.
"I'm so sorry, buddy." She glances up at me. "Thank you, Jameson."
I nod, knowing I need to leave but unable to make my feet move. "Looks like his foot is a little sore."
"I'm so glad you found him. He could have stepped on a nail or something." Naomi scratches his head, looking like she wants to cry.
"I checked. No cuts or anything." Why do I always sound so angry around her? "If he's not doing well tomorrow, let me know and I'll ask Emmett where he takes his dog," I add in a softer tone.
"Okay." Naomi nods, looking so miserable that I have to force myself not to scoop her into my arms and tell her it's all going to be okay.
I turn toward the front door.
"Wait, let me repay you." Naomi jumps to her feet and grabs my hands in hers. "I burned dinner, but let me give you that massage."
"No, that's not–"
"Please? I'm really good at it. I promise." Naomi smiles at me, looking so hopeful that I inexplicably find myself agreeing.
"Okay." Anything to make her happy, even if it's torture for me.
"Yeah? All right, let me get set up. Give me one minute. I was just going through all the supplies earlier."
I swallow hard, my heart racing as I try to figure out if it's possible to turn tail and run instead. Fred looks at me like he can read my mind, and he’s not impressed with my plan. I have no intention of being shamed by a dog, so I help Naomi pull out the table and lock it in place.
"Take your shirt off," Naomi says, biting her lip in that way I like a lot. I start to protest, but she grins. "Come on, Jameson. I'm a professional. I want to use the oils."
I nod but don't move.
"I can take my shirt off too if it makes you feel more comfortable," Naomi teases, giving me a flirty smile.
I almost choke on my tongue as I reach behind my neck and pull my t-shirt off one-handed, tossing it onto the couch. Naomi lets out a little breath of air and turns quickly to gather her supplies.
What the hell is happening to me? Am I going to do this?
"Pants too." Naomi pulls a sheet from a pile and drapes it over the top of the table. She lifts the headrest at the top, clicking it in place, then grabs a bolster pillow.
I lower my pants, keeping my eyes on the non-sexual pillow and willing my cock to remain cool.
"Ready. Do you want to start facing up or down?" Naomi says, gesturing toward the table.
"Down!" I shout because of my totally uncool cock.
Naomi gazes at me, her voice so soft and sensual that my heart skips a beat. "Great. Lie down, Jameson."
I move forward quickly and climb onto the table with all the grace of a big oaf.
"Put your face in the circle and let me know if it's not comfortable," Naomi says.
The sound of bottles opening has me on edge, and I'm hard as a rock, pressed against the table. I am not comfortable in the least, and no amount of shifting is going to change that.
Naomi smooths her hands over my back, her fingers kneading into my sore muscles.
I groan loudly.
"Good job. Let it out." Naomi's thumbs press along my shoulder blades, and my muscles protest from the intrusion, but the pain gives way to pleasure as they gradually unknot.
I lie there as Naomi works on my body. Every muscle she relaxes opens up a little spot in my brain, letting me sort through my thoughts in a way I haven't been able to do for a month.
Not since the day Violet introduced Naomi to me, and I fell head over heels for her. It was like being struck by lightning, but instead of frying me, it jump-started my heart.
As Naomi’s hands glide over my skin, I finally admit that I'm in love with her.
It's sudden and crazy, but it doesn't feel reckless.
Maybe that's what scares me. I've imagined a future with someone before, and that went belly up in the worst possible way.
But it never felt right. Imagining my future with Naomi holds nothing but pleasure.
"We need to release some of this tension, Jameson," Naomi says softly, her fingers flying along the muscles of my back like little kneading machines. "All your growly tension is giving you knots."
What does she mean by that? Am I too grumpy for her? Shit. Maybe this is simply because I found Fred. She loves him. Oh, God. I'm reading into this.
Naomi leans over to rub the back of my arm, and the weight of her on top of me is exquisite torture. I want this woman riding my face until I hear her sweet voice calling out my name with pleasure.
I moan from desperation as the image plays clearly in my brain.
"Right there? Good job. Relax as much as you can. It will make my job easier," Naomi says encouragingly.
Her job. She insists she's a professional, and I'm getting hard from her touch like a lecherous client. I'm convincing myself this is fate or true love, but I have no indication that she feels anything for me other than a little lust.
"Go ahead and turn over," Naomi says.
I can't do that without revealing a whole hell of a lot more than I'm ready for, so I sit up instead.
"I need to go," I grit out, looking everywhere but at her. "Some of my friends are waiting for me." It's not a total lie, but I need to go straight home for a cold shower instead of the bar.
"Okay." The disappointment is thick in Naomi's voice.
I almost hesitate, but what if I put my heart on the line and she simply wants to fuck? I'd have to see her around town. I can't move again now that I've started my business here. I have a life in Duhring Park. I can't risk it.
I slide off the table and turn away, putting on my pants quickly and tucking my cock into the waistband of my underwear to keep things PG. I keep my back turned as I grab my shirt off the couch.
"Do you want to jump in the shower? That oil is going to ruin your shirt," Naomi says as she walks to the kitchen and washes her hands in the sink.
"No." I stride to the door, opening it, then pausing. Tell her, my heart and cock urge. "Thank you for the massage."
"You're wel—"
I close the door, practically running down the hallway as my heart beats furiously. Grabbing my tools, I berate myself as I head out to my truck and get the hell out of Dodge.
I clench my jaw, trying to ignore the awful feeling that I just blew the one chance I had with Naomi.
Good job not making decisions based on fear, asshole.