Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
Winnie
The rest of the week leading up to Feastivus goes something like this: try to catch a stupid cat, make out with James, work on my secret project for Dark Horse, make out with James some more, try to catch a stupid (okay, fine, he’s smarter than me) cat.
In addition, I’ve become very familiar with every area of the building—mostly because James and I have made out in all of them. With my eyes closed, I could create a blueprint, plus report on the sturdiness of the walls and flat surfaces like countertops and tables.
For example, the outer wall in the back room feels like it needs reinforcing and creaks loudly when someone—or some ones —are pressed up against it.
And the small wooden table in the storage closet was NOT meant to hold a human’s weight.
It has been relocated to the large dumpster outside. In pieces.
What we have NOT done is discuss the particulars of our relationship.
Honestly, though, I’m fine letting things be nebulous for now.
DTR talks are so early 2000s. Do adults even still have these talks?
I’m so out of the loop I’m not sure what typical is anymore.
And so long as we’re just kissing, I’m okay putting off some official talk about what we are and what we want … for now.
Aside from all the kissing, James and I really are pretty consumed with work.
The contractor has had his crew in, prepping the plumbing for the brew tanks and starting to frame out the bathrooms. There’s some issue or headache every hour, it seems, and if James isn’t talking to the contractor, he’s on the phone with suppliers.
It’s a lot of people and paperwork for him, and I wish he’d let me help.
Especially if it would get me out of trying to catch the Orange Cyclops.
I’m choosing not to be hurt when James refuses my offers for help.
I feel like this will change when I can show him I’m serious, show him I don’t want to just be a temp, show him my ideas for Dark Horse.
I’ve spent a lot of time on the phone with Kyoko, pestering her with questions and getting more ideas.
What started as a small document has turned into a large document with an accompanying slideshow presentation.
Yeah. I’m not obsessing AT ALL.
Every day, I arrive to find new answers scrawled on the chalkboard in James’s so-very-James handwriting.
Just like him, it’s hard to read. This is a twist on my daily question requirement, but I love it, mostly because it was James’s idea.
Also, if I guess correctly, I get rewarded, and I really, really like the rewards.
If I miss? I’m punished by being tickled until I’m breathless. Which … I don’t mind either.
James doesn’t make this easy. On Tuesday, his answer was seventeen.
I guessed how many women he’s kissed—though the idea of his lips on anyone else makes me feel more unhinged than an old screen door.
Thankfully, it was how many stitches he’s gotten in his lifetime.
Some were from surgery, but the rest he said I’ll have to find myself. I can’t wait for more exploration.
Today, Wednesday, he simply wrote a pilot , and I correctly guessed this was what he wanted to be when he grew up. The mental image of James in a pilot uniform behind the controls of a jet is pretty hot.
“Thayden said he’d give me lessons in his private plane sometime,” James says, brushing his lips against my jaw in a spot I’ve discovered I really, really like.
We’re in a storage closet, the sound of hammers hammering and country music crackling over a speaker offering a soundtrack to our private moment.
“Who’s Thayden again?” I shiver as James drags his mouth up, up, up. I care less about the answer and more about extending what was supposed to be a five-minute break.
“He’s our family lawyer … and sort of friend.” His lips close around my earlobe, and I squeeze my eyes closed, gripping his shirt in my fists. When he kisses the apple of my cheek and backs up, resting his forehead against mine, lips just out of reach, I want to groan.
I try to locate a coherent thought. “I think I met him the day y’all got arrested for disrupting the peace at Backwoods Bar. Expensive suit, smug grin?”
James snorts. “That would be Thayden.”
He kisses me, slow and soft and sweet. I’m seated on a stack of pallets with James standing between my knees.
The heat of his body is delicious against the chill bite in the air.
I draw him closer, kissing a zigzag line up his throat—payback for making me dizzy minutes ago.
I feel him swallow against my lips, and there’s something so powerful in knowing how I affect him.
“If I get my pilot’s license, I promise to take you up,” he says, swallowing heavily again.
With the way James makes my stomach flip and swoop, I feel like I already know what it would be like to fly with him. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“It took convincing to get on a motorcycle, yet you’ll get in a plane with me behind the controls?” He sounds amused.
“There are more motorcycle crashes than plane crashes.” I’m pretty sure this statistic is true. I’ll need good old Mr. Google to be sure.
“So you say. But I think—”
“Too much talking.”
I slide my glasses on top of my head and pull his face down to mine. The warmth of his lips, the bite of his stubble, the strong grip of his hands on my hips—I don’t think I’ll ever tire of these things. His fingers tighten, pulling me even closer as his mouth moves over mine.
“Winnie,” he says, my name sounding like a plea on his lips, his breath mingling with mine.
I drag my hands through his hair, nibbling a little on his lower lip. He groans and starts to pull me closer still when the door slamming open and a booming voice makes us jerk apart.
“Pat’s back, baby! And wow—okay. Y’all are making out. I see we’ve got some catching up to do.”
James drops his head to my shoulder, groaning. “Didn’t you see the closed door?”
“Yeah, but no sock on the door handle.”
James growls and presses a last kiss on my collarbone before standing up and moving away. “I’d say welcome back, but you’re not really welcome.”
Pat holds out his arms, and with a heaving breath, James hugs him. It looks less like an embrace and more like a struggle for dominance. There’s a lot of squeezing and back slapping and grunting.
Finally, Pat taps James on the shoulder twice, wheezing out, “Okay! You win! You’re the biggest and baddest and strongest. And, let’s not forget the oldest!”
James gives him a last, painful-looking squeeze, making Pat squeak, before letting go.
I slip off the stack of pallets. “Welcome back, Patty.”
“Good to see you, future sister-in-law.”
A flash of panic crosses James’s features. It has the immediate effect of making my stomach twist, but I don’t have time to study James as Pat envelops me in a hug. When I glance at James again, he’s back to his normal gruff and possessive look, making it easy for me to forget what I think I saw.
“Where’s Lindy?”
“She’s picking up Jo from school. I’m meeting them at Mari’s in a few.”
Pat squeezes and lifts, my feet coming off the floor. The Grahams could teach masterclasses on giving bear hugs. I feel the breath whoosh from my lungs as James snaps, “Don’t be so rough, Patty.”
“Winnie’s not a delicate flower, brother. This one’s a fighter. I can tell.” Then, in a low voice near my ear, Pat whispers, “Welcome to the family.”
James practically rips me out of Pat’s embrace and shoves his brother back a few feet.
“I was going to say congratulations on taming the grump, but never mind,” Pat says, laughing.
James tucks me under one of his arms, and I slide my hand up to his chest, smiling at Pat. “Grumps aren’t meant to be tamed, Patty. They’re meant to be enjoyed as is.”
Pat’s eyes twinkle. “Well, don’t let me stop you from enjoying. I’m headed out to meet Lindy and Jojo. Feel free to meet us at Mari’s. That is, if you aren’t otherwise occupied.”
Pat winks, and James tenses, like he’s debating whether or not to give chase. When he lunges forward, Pat squeals and darts out of the room.
“You’re a brave woman, Winnie!” he calls.
His voice echoes from the other room and rattles similarly around in my head.
Am I brave? Maybe so. But only on the surface.
Because as much as I’m enjoying all this getting-to-know-James stuff and definitely the kissing, I can’t shake the feeling I had driving back after the conference, like I’m still in a bubble set to burst any moment.
And deep down, I am completely terrified.