Chapter Eleven

“Can you meet me at the shop in an hour?” she asked excitedly. Her nose was already pressed to the chilly window pane. “I want to take a walk with you.”

His chuckle was like rough gravel over the phone. “Why? It’s freezing and we’re getting snow.”

“Exactly! It’s going to snow, Jameson, and I don’t want to miss a moment.”

The pause held weight. “Sweetheart, this is Jersey, not the South. You see snow all the time. In New York, we all dread it.”

“We’re by the ocean so it usually doesn’t stick here. We get rain and mud and sleet, but rarely snow. This is going to be an old-fashioned storm. Will you walk in the snow with me?”

“Yes, flower girl. I will. Dress warm. Be there soon with Bear.”

She laughed with glee and rushed upstairs to change. The morning had been nonstop with a Sunday event, and new client bookings, but it was 4pm and she was done for the day. Brunch was over at Vintage so Jameson had the time and Devon was going to make the most of it.

She donned fur lined leggings, a sweater, and boots. Pulling on a red knit hat and scarf, she finished up and waited outside. The sky looked like a cranky toddler ready to shed tears. The ocean roared in grey, moody fury. She glanced up and down the empty streets where everything was locked up tight, lights were off, and most of the residents and businesses had closed up and gone home.

Perfect.

He arrived a few minutes later with Bear clipped to a leash. Her gaze appreciated the expensive black ski jacket, tight wool pants, and Timberland boots. A charcoal knit hat that matched his eyes was pulled low on his brow. She touched the square of leather imprinted on the side that was stitched with a pattern of dots. “What’s that?”

“Braille. I got this from a company called Two Blind Brothers. They both have a disease where they lost their central vision and opened up their own store. I like the stuff there, and all proceeds go to research. A close friend of mine’s son has Starguard disease and lost his sight at only sixteen. It was a lot for the family to handle.”

Her fingers caressed his smooth cheek and coasted over his soft lips. “I’m sorry, that’s terrible.”

His eyes flickered with pain. “Sometimes, you wake up one day and go to bed a different person. You never know what’s coming.” She allowed him the silence, but then he shook his head with a smile. “Sorry, I got distracted. Let’s go and walk in this amazing snowstorm. If it ever starts.”

He tucked her arm in his and they headed to the boardwalk. They passed the empty, winding beach paths and listened to the roar of the waves as they crashed over the sand. The salt air whipped in warning, and she snuggled into his warmth, enjoying the wild open sky above and the deserted space around them. Bear trotted happily, his thick fur the perfect protection, snapping at the slowly drifting snowflakes that were beginning to fall.

They walked and chatted for a while. Jameson paused in front of an empty storefront near the arcade and peered in. Old signs and construction equipment filled the raw space. “Another ice cream place?” he asked. “Can anyone manage more ice cream in Cape May?”

She laughed. “Hey, we take our ice cream seriously here. Actually, this used to be a clothes shop, then a sandwich place, but it closed during Covid. The deal with the soft serve place fell through so I heard Davis is trying to fill it. He’s the one who rents out this strip of businesses.”

“Hmm.” He stared inside for a while. “It used to be a casual restaurant?”

“Yeah, like sandwiches, hamburgers, and hot dogs. There’s too many of them around so it never caught on with the tourists. There’s even a patio in the back that overlooks the beach, which was a nice feature, but makes the price steep.”

“Hmm.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder. Bear sniffed around the edges of the building and peed. “What are you thinking?”

“That it’s interesting. Seems like there’s a lot of five-star restaurants around here. Too much competition, you think?”

“Not for the summer season. I think to do well, you need to cultivate a stellar reputation for food and service, then the people will come. But you also have to accept you’ll make a lot less money off season.”

“Hmm. What do other businesses do to meet expenses? Any idea?”

“You need to cater to the locals off-season. Mad Batter does very well here, and so do a few others. Beach front is a bit harder to pull off in the winter though. You’d need to offer something unique to keep the locals coming back. That’s always the challenge.”

“Hmm.”

“You’re a deep thinker, huh?”

He bumped her shoulder playfully. “I am. There’s a lot going on in my head.”

“That’s sexy.”

He laughed and kissed her. The snow began to fall harder, swirling around them and dancing in the fierce wind. She tilted her head up and breathed deep, treasuring this perfect moment in time, in a snowstorm, in a home she loved, with her dog and the man she was falling in love with.

It was silly. A bit ridiculous. Way past her comfort zone.

But there was nothing she could do about it.

She was falling in love with Jameson Franklin.

What a mess.

His phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket. “Sorry, sweetheart, I gotta take this. It’s Mac.”

“Of course.”

He lifted the phone to his ear. “Hey, buddy. How’s it going?”

Devon took the leash and led Bear toward the beach, giving Jameson some privacy. She pondered this new revelation of her feelings. He’d warned her this could get messy. She just hadn’t counted on such intense emotion for the man so quickly. He was like this winter storm-- starting with a touch of grumpiness and distrust, gaining slow speed and confidence, then falling to catch her in an embrace with such grace and beauty she had no choice but to surrender.

What was she going to do?

Jameson lived in the city. He loved his job, and worked endless hours. There was no time for a long-distance relationship, and she was afraid if they tried, they’d end up tearing each other apart. Did they have enough between them for her to move to New York if he asked? She could work in a floral shop near him. Or see if she wanted to start her own business there. She loved Cape May with her heart and soul, but he may be more important. She’d never loved like this before so she didn’t know the rules. But if she mentioned any of this, he may think she was being ridiculous talking so seriously after three weeks.

Maybe she was.

Devon played with Bear until he got off the phone. His back was turned from her as he deposited the cell back in his jacket pocket. She walked toward him.

“Mac’s okay, I hope?”

His voice sounded a bit funny. “Actually, he’s doing really good. He’s ecstatic. She had the baby—a healthy boy. Five pounds one ounce. Named him Broderick.”

Devon tilted her head, trying to understand why he didn’t seem happy. “That’s great news! His sister is good? No issues?”

“Nope. Delivery was fine, they gave her a C-section, but she’ll heal fast. Even better? Her husband will be coming next week—he was able to get orders home earlier than expected.”

“This is wonderful.” He wouldn’t look at her. She stared at his profile, as if carved in stone, and tried not to feel sick. “What’s the matter, Jameson? Why don’t you seem like this is a good thing?”

Slowly, he turned his head to look at her. She sucked in her breath at the gravity in his winter gaze; the storm of emotion threatening to escape. “I’m pleased for him, of course. But this presents a wrinkle I didn’t expect so soon.”

Devon realized the issue immediately. She’d just been in denial.

“Mac is coming home. Which means I’ll be leaving.”

The words fell hard between them. The snowfall picked up in response, and the last bit of light died away, leaving them in shadows. She didn’t know what to say or how to act. She didn’t know how to do anything, so she just nodded and took his hand again, and led him to her home.

They settled Bear in and closed the bedroom door.

She stepped into his arms and he kissed her, and for a while, they forgot the rest and focused on each other.

* * * *

They snuggled deep under the blankets, tangled together. His hand was in her hair. Her lips were pressed to his chest. The musky scent of sex filled the air. Moonlight trickled through the window. He was caught between waking and sleep, more deeply content than he’d ever imagined.

Her voice was whisper soft. “Jameson?”

“Yes, flower girl?”

“Has your heart ever been broken by a woman?”

The pain lanced as sharp as ever, but this time, the memory it left was softer, the edges blurred. He turned over the images in his mind and his body didn’t stiffen up. The wound had begun to close when he wasn’t looking, or maybe Devon had allowed it to heal by showing him something beautiful.

He rubbed the tat with his thumb absently and told the truth. “Yes. It almost destroyed me.”

He heard her sharp intake of breath. It seemed impossible, but she melted into him, as if seeking to give all of her heat and life and emotion to him. “Do you think you’d ever try again?”

The question was fair. Before her, he’d have to give the truth, which was a resounding no. He never wanted to hurt like that again. It had been almost feral, the grief too black and consuming to fight from. The tattoo was his daily reminder.

But it was before he met Devon.

Jameson sensed she waited for his answer with an open mind. They didn’t have much time left with each other before decisions needed to be made. It would be perfectly reasonable for him to simply give her a neutral answer and see what happened between them.

But Devon wouldn’t fall apart if a committed love was something he couldn’t give now. Maybe she’d wait. Maybe she wouldn’t. But he loved the sheer independence of the woman lying beside him. She was strong enough to handle his truth and allow him to lean on her, whether she liked his answer or not. The women before had run, finding the wait not worth the risk. But Devon gave him a freedom to be who he was without apology.

“I think so,” he said.

The idea of trying to be more with her should have struck terror. Instead, he only felt the stir of possibility. And more.

As if knowing his thoughts, Devon rolled over in one smooth motion and pinned him beneath her. Inch by slow inch, she sinuously slipped down his body, her mouth dropping hot kisses over his bare chest, abs, hips. He hissed out a breath when her breath fluttered over his erection, straining toward her in desperation.

She lifted her gaze to his.

Jameson shuddered. “I think so,” he repeated, staring into her beautiful moss green eyes.

“Then show me,” she whispered, right before she opened her mouth and took him deep inside.

His hand fisted in her hair. With each swipe of her tongue, he died a little. She was a goddess, a witch, a fantasy, as she sucked him hard and tight, then moved her head in a steady rhythm that drove him right to the edge.

She kept him there.

Time stopped. He chanted her name. He fought for control.

Vision blurred, he tugged her up, and watched as she straddled him. With swift motions, she slid on the condom, then sunk down on top of him.

He blistered out a curse. She wriggled her hips, taking him deeper, and arched backwards. Her hair streamed wildly down her back, to her moving hips. He cupped her breasts and watched her ride him, wondering if he’d ever be sane again.

She squeezed his dick so hard and tight he almost lost it, but she felt too good and he didn’t want to rush. A cry broke from her throat, and he kept his gaze locked on hers, knowing what she needed.

“Come for me.”

He reached between them and rubbed over the throbbing bud. Once. Twice.

She came.

His name raked across his ears. With a primitive roar, he unleashed with rough strokes and released. His mind blanked to nothing and allowed his heart to scream the truth as loud as her name broke from his lips.

He didn’t think.

He knew.

After three weeks, he was in love with Devon Pratt.

He just didn’t know what he was going to do about it.