Luna and Jameson settled up the tavern bill and headed outside. She knew he had huge reservations about her plan. She got that. But she also knew that he’d back her in spite of it—a thought that warmed her from head to toe.
And just having a plan had eased her panic.
As they walked out the door, she realized everyone was still there, standing beneath the overhang staring out at the pouring rain, in varying degrees of tipsiness, probably waiting on Ubers.
Jeb stood stoic. Chef and Milo were holding hands and smiling a little drunkenly at each other. Stella was on her phone, swiping through a dating app, muttering “too big, too little . . . ohhh, this one looks juuuuust right.”
Jameson’s hair was slightly mussed, like it always was when he was stressed because he tended to run his fingers through it. But she knew he wasn’t tipsy, he hadn’t had more than one beer. She suspected that was a control issue. Right on top of that thought came another—what it would look like to see him lose control.
In bed . . .
Since that took her mind to a place she couldn’t go right now, she walked up to Willow, who was looking perfect, as always. “I know. We’re still not talking.” She held up a hand when Willow started to say something. “First, is Shayne really okay?”
“Unbelievably, yes. The doctor hasn’t cleared him for duty yet, but there’s no keeping that man down.”
Luna nodded. “And you? Are you okay?”
Willow took a deep breath. “I’m okay because he’s okay.”
“Good.” Luna then hesitated.
“What is it?”
“I’m going to spend the day in town tomorrow drumming up interest in our fair. I’m putting you in charge at the farm.”
Willow straightened up. “Are you serious? Like, I get to be Head-in-Charge-of-Everything?”
“Yep. I’m handing over the proverbial key to the kingdom and you’re queen for a day.”
Behind Willow, Chef was giving Luna the knife across the throat motion.
Milo had his head in his hands. Unclear whether that was because he was drunk or worried.
Jeb was his silent, imperturbable self.
“God help us all,” Stella whispered, and made the sign of the cross even though she wasn’t Catholic.
Willow was jumping up and down and clapping. “I’ve always wanted to be Queen Head-in-Charge-of-Everything!”
“Let’s call in sick tomorrow,” Milo whispered to Chef.
“Don’t you dare,” Willow said, pointing at them. “I want all my minions.”
Chef gave Luna puppy dog eyes.
“It’s going to be fine,” she said, and watched as they all piled into two Ubers. She waved them off and then turned to Jameson, finding him watching her pensively.
“Sometimes,” he said, “no matter how badly you want something to work out, life throws you a curveball.”
“Not this time.” She was certain of it. Almost one hundred percent. Okay, maybe seventy-five. They got into Jameson’s car and she watched him drive for a moment, trying to clamp down on her curiosity but couldn’t do it. “Have you had a lot of curveballs?”
“Yes.”
“What was your very first one?” she asked.
“Probably when my dad walked away from me and my mom.”
She sucked in a breath. He’d never mentioned his dad. “How old were you?”
“Five.” When she gasped at that, he lifted a shoulder. “He remarried and started another family. Wasn’t interested in me after that. I think he just didn’t want a reminder of his past.”
She hated that for him, hated how alone he’d been after his mom had died. She already knew him to be strong, inside and out, but she was only beginning to realize the depths of that strength.
“What about you?” he asked.
“What about me?”
He glanced over at her. “Tell me a curveball you’ve had.” He smiled at what was undoubtedly panic on her face. “We’ve been through this. Turnabout is fair play.”
True. “Well, today felt a whole lot like a really big curveball.”
“Yes, but since that was a curveball for both of us, it doesn’t count.”
Right. Drawing a deep breath, she went with her usual surface answer. “Well, I did fall in love with a man who turned out to be gay, blah blah blah.”
He made the sound of a game show buzzer. “Something I don’t know, Luna.”
“Uh . . . I’m ridiculously stubborn?”
He didn’t smile. He wasn’t playing.
Luna let out a laugh that sounded a little shrill to her own ears. “You already know everything, and would you look at the time?” By that point they were back at the farm, and she got out of the car and they walked to her cabin, where she bounded up the porch steps.
He was right with her, and caught her before she went inside, gently turning her to face him, slowly pulling her closer, his hands on her hips. It was a dark night, but she’d left the porch light on, so she could see him in the warm glow. He hadn’t worn a jacket, and raindrops clung to his hair and face. He had at least three days of stubble going, which for some reason was a huge turn-on. She wanted to touch him, and then wondered why she held back. So she didn’t. Lifting her hands, she let her fingers brush along his jaw.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” he repeated softly.
Her gaze was locked on his mouth, the memory of how it felt on hers always there in the back of her mind, day and night. “Okay, well, I really want to kiss you right now.”
That got her a smile, which was when she decided the hell with it and kissed him.
He kissed her back, and it was somehow both hot and sweet. And then . . . just sweet because he pulled back entirely, looking at her with those eyes that seemed to compel her to let him in.
“Fine.” She had to rack her brain because she’d been hiding for a long time. “So . . . my parents didn’t tell me.”
“Didn’t tell you what?”
“That I was adopted.”
His brows shot up. “What?”
“Yeah, I found out at school from a kid when I was thirteen.”
He shook his head. “That is . . . not okay.”
“It was a pretty devastating plot twist,” she agreed.
“Did they say why?”
“Not really.” She shrugged. “Just that they’d planned to tell me when I was old enough to understand and not freak out.”
He shook his head in stunned disbelief, and she felt some of her tension drain. He got it. He got her.
He cupped her face. “Thank you for trusting me with that.”
Unlocking the front door, she pulled him inside, not turning on any lights. “I’ve got something else I might want to trust you with.”
“Name it.”
She pulled off her wet denim jacket and they moved to the couch, where she gave him a little push down to the cushions. “Some things a man should find out for himself.”
“A game.” His voice was low and sexy as he pulled her down beside him. “I’m good at games.” He slid his hands to her waist and tugged until she lay flat on the couch, lots of lean muscle and highly motivated and determined male testosterone pinning her there. He kissed the soft, sensitive skin just beneath her ear, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from her.
She felt him smile against her skin as his mouth went on a hot, wet, thorough tour to the hollow of her throat, making her writhe beneath him for more.
Her hands slipped inside his clothes, trying to get him naked. “Jameson.”
His fingers nudged the straps of her sundress off her shoulders, and with one tug, she was bared to him. “Mmm, and the way you taste . . .” Lowering his head, he kissed everything he’d uncovered before making a home for himself between her thighs. “And I especially love the way you look like this.” Rising up, he pulled off his shirt while she undid his jeans. Thankfully he’d taken to having condoms on him after a late-night foray in the barn one night that had been one of the best, most erotic nights of her life, even when they’d finished to discover a very curious Estelle the Emu watching them.
It made her chest warm with affection that he didn’t question the crazy in her world. He just accepted it, at every turn.
“Still with me?” he asked, a hand cupping the side of her face.
“Like you don’t know just how with you I am.”
He smiled. “Admit it, you’re charmed by me.”
“Just about everything you do charms me,” she admitted. “In fact, I was charmed a couple of times as recently as this morning, so I don’t know why you’re trying so hard here.”
“Because you’re worth it.”
They maneuvered into a good position, bumping into each other, laughing and swearing as they lined things up. “I want you to remember tonight for this,” he said. “Not for what happened earlier at the bank.”
“What bank?” she murmured, making him laugh against the hollow of her throat, which tugged a low moan from her. “Jameson?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you too good to be true?”
“I’m exactly what you see.” He took her hand. “Let’s go to bed, where I’ll show you again, and then again, until you believe.”