Chapter 12

After our visit to the Calloways' farm, I floated through the rest of the weekend, not even minding all the laundry I had to do or dishes I had to wash. I invited Jameson over on Wednesday after practice to cook dinner together.

I planned an easy meal for the stove top. It was something we'd already served Jameson, but this time Owen would be preparing it.

After practice, Owen jumped in the shower.

I went to my room to change out of my work clothes into a T-shirt and cutoff jean shorts since it was an unusually mild day.

When Owen came downstairs and saw me gathering the ingredients, he asked, "Are you sure you want me to cook?"

"It's like falling of a horse. You have to get back on and try again."

"Falling off a horse is a concussion. We're talking about burning the house down," Owen said wryly.

"I'll be here and so will Jameson."

He drew in a steadying breath. Then the doorbell rang.

"Can you grab that? It's Jameson."

He hurried toward the door, probably relieved to be away from the kitchen. I heard their excited chatter about whatever happened at practice as they made their way down the hall.

I wondered what it would be like if Jameson brought Owen home after practice, cooked dinner with us, then stayed. Tingles erupted over my skin as he stepped into view. His hair was wet, darker than usual, and curling over his temple. It was sexy as hell, and my fingers itched to touch the strands.

His eyes lit up when he saw me. He crossed the room, wearing a fire department-issued navy hoodie and jeans.

I barely pulled in a breath before he leaned down to kiss me on the cheek. "It's good to see you, Claire."

My skin tingled from the contact. "You just saw me at practice."

He flashed me a smile. "That's not the same."

We never talked at pickup. The most we communicated was the occasional smile or nod. Anyone on the outside would think it was him acknowledging my presence, logging the fact that a parent had arrived to take a kid home.

His gaze dropped to my bare legs for a second. Then he rubbed his hands together. "What are we cooking?"

"Spaghetti," Owen said flatly.

Jameson smiled wide, his dimple popping. "A basic but one of my all-time favorites."

Sometimes Jameson acted like a big kid. He wouldn't like me saying that, but he appreciated the little things. It was refreshing.

"What do we need to do first?" Jameson asked.

Owen gave him a disbelieving look but poured water in the pan, then set it on the stove, covering it with the lid. "We need to boil water for the noodles."

"Pretty sure we need heat for the water to boil." Jameson waved a hand at the stove.

A muscle ticked in Owen's cheek. "Can you turn on the burner, Mom?"

I glanced over at Jameson, and he nodded encouragingly at me. "You can do it." Unfortunately, I didn't sound as confident as I wanted to.

"The last time I cooked, I started a fire," Owen's voice trembled slightly.

Jameson rested a hand on his shoulder and wave at hand at me. Figuring Jameson wanted me to leave the room so he'd feel more relaxed, I said, "I have to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back."

I went into the hall but stayed close so I could overhear.

"You've got this. The fire extinguisher is in this cabinet here." I heard him tap it with something, maybe his foot. "And you've got your own personal firefighter present to help if something goes wrong. But nothing is going to happen because you've turned on the burner a million times before, and nothing bad happened. This time, you'll remember to remove any towels, wooden spoons, or other flammables from near the stove."

"There isn't anything near the stove that could catch fire."

Probably because I was extra vigilant about that and had already checked for it.

"Good. Now turn on the burner."

I peeked around the corner to see Owen standing nearby. Owen slowly turned the knob. It clicked a few times. Then it ignited.

Jameson nodded in approval. "There you go. Easy peasy."

Owen let out a breath, but his shoulders were tight.

Jameson stepped away, leaning against the island counter, adopting a relaxed stance. If the firefighter wasn't concerned, Owen shouldn't be either. "What did you think of practice?"

"It was good," Owen said tightly.

"You didn't think I was too hard on some of the guys?"

I walked back into the room, and Jameson said by way of explanation, "Bryce had been screwing around and instead of making him run laps, I punished the entire team."

Owen's lips pursed. "I liked how you handled it."

Jameson arched a brow. "You didn't get mad at Bryce?"

"I was, but then the other guys were complaining, so you had to do what you did. Besides, we felt more like a team running those laps than we have all season."

Jameson nodded, seemingly pleased at his observations. "That's what I wanted to happen."

I could see what Jameson was doing. He was distracting him from worrying about the stove, yet I could tell that Jameson was aware of everything that was going on. If something went wrong, he'd put the fire out in a few seconds.

"I'm learning as I go. I've been on a lot of teams, had good coaches and bad ones."

"We're your guinea pigs?" Owen asked.

"Pretty much. You don't mind?"

"You're a good coach," Owen said seriously.

Jameson let out a breath. "Thanks."

"Where are we? Should I start the garlic bread?" I asked them.

"Waiting on the water to boil." Jameson crossed one foot over the other.

I tensed, remembering what happened the last time Owen cooked. How I'd panicked because I hadn't been home. That there was nothing I could do to help.

I felt Jameson's gaze on me. "Rough day at work?"

"I swear it was a full moon. The naughty kids were more rambunctious than usual, and I lost a few tests, only to find them later in my bag."

Jameson touched my shoulder pulling me close. "You're tense."

Owen's gaze was on the just-starting-to-boil water, not on us.

Jameson kneaded the muscles in my shoulders, and my head fell back slightly. I wished we were alone so that there was a possibility of Jameson kissing my neck. My body started to tremble. And if it wasn't for Jameson standing tall and strong behind me, my knees would have buckled.

Jameson kept one eye on me, and the other on Owen and the stove.

"That feels amazing."

"I give good massages." Just then the water in the pan hissed then bubbled. "It sounds like it's boiling. You can take the hot pad and remove the lid."

Owen glanced at us as if he was unsure, and I was glad Jameson's hands had already fallen away.

Jameson nodded in support, and Owen complied. The water was boiling. "Go ahead and dump the noodles in."

Owen opened the container of noodles and dumped the whole box in.

"We probably didn't need to make the whole box," I said.

Jameson waved a hand in my direction. "That's okay. I'm starving."

"I'll get the garlic bread in the oven." I moved away, grabbing the frozen loaf from the freezer, then placing it on a pan.

Jameson stepped back from the stove. "You should probably stir it so the noodles don't clump together."

"I know how to cook noodles," Owen said defensively, but he moved to grab a spoon and carefully stirred the noodles.

"Owen, be nice," I chided, not liking his attitude.

When he was finished stirring, I opened the oven and slid the pan inside. I turned the heat to three hundred fifty.

"Let's get that sauce started so it's ready when the noodles are," Jameson prodded Owen.

"You want me to cook two things at once?" Owen asked.

"It's easy." Jameson handed him the jar of marinara. "Dump this in a small saucepan and turn the heat on low."

"Okay," he said as he took the jar from Jameson, complying with his instructions.

Now the two burners were on and garlic bread was cooking in the oven. The kitchen was starting to smell like garlic and marinara, one of my favorite combinations.

"It's best never to leave the kitchen with the stove on. Even if you take every possible precaution, you never know what could happen if you leave. You could forget the stove was on."

Owen shook his head. "Yeah, I wouldn't do that."

"I think the noodles are done. You know how to drain them?" Jameson grabbed the strainer and placed it in the sink.

Owen turned off the burner, grabbed two mitts, and carried the pan to the sink where he emptied it. Steam rose from the sink as he set the pan back on the stove.

"Now remember to check the sauce. It should be warmed by now."

I sprinkled olive oil over the noodles while Owen checked the sauce. "It's done."

"Perfect. Turn it off, then move the pan to a back burner, off the heat."

The timer for the bread beeped, and I took it out of the oven.

Now that everything was turned off, Jameson said, "You did it. You cooked and nothing bad happened."

Owen looked relieved and a little pleased.

"I'm proud of you," I said.

Jameson looked like he was too but didn't want to embarrass him by saying so. I wanted him to know we had his back and there was nothing he couldn't do.

I served the spaghetti into bowls while Jameson cut the bread and arranged it on a plate.

"It's nice to have someone helping with dinner," I said softly when we carried everything to the table.

"Your ex didn't help cook?"

"He was usually still at work. I used to try and hold dinner for him, but a toddler can't wait until nine or ten to eat."

"Of course not. I remember how Izzy was at that age."

We sat down to eat and talk about the upcoming dance at school."

"Is there someone you want to ask to the dance?" Jameson asked him.

Owen gave him a disgruntled look. "Why would I ask someone to the dance?"

Jameson glanced at me, more than a little panicked, but I merely shook my head. "He's going with friends."

"Ah. Not into girls yet. That's probably a good thing. You have plenty of time for that.

"No one has dates?" I couldn't help but ask.

"I guess some do. But dating is stupid. They just say they have a girlfriend, but they don't talk to them or hang out outside of school."

I nodded, relieved at his admission.

After dinner we helped clean up, and Owen excused himself to do his homework.

"Thank you for coming tonight. It was nice having you here. I don't think I could have done it without you. I was a nervous wreck."

"You would have been fine."

His confidence felt good. "Still. It was nice to have support."

Jameson wiped his hands on a towel. "I should get going. I'm sure you have things you need to do tonight."

I wanted to ask him to stay, but I couldn't think of a good reason. Not without giving away how I felt about him. I liked having him in my house. I enjoyed cooking with someone and sharing a meal. Things I hadn't done with my ex.

It was the fantasy I had in my mind all those years of what a marriage should be. I walked him outside to the porch.

"I can come over again, but I think he'll be okay."

I rubbed the chill on my arms. "I don't know if I'm going to be okay."

Jameson covered my hands with his. "You're stronger than you give yourself credit for."

I didn't feel strong when I was by myself. But with Jameson nearby, quick to lend his support, I felt better than I had in a long time.

Jameson took off his hoodie and pulled it over my head. It was warm from his body heat and smelled like him. It engulfed my body, making me feel tiny.

"You look good in my sweatshirt." Jameson's voice was rough.

I knew the sweatshirt was long enough that it covered my shorts completely.

My breath caught as he cupped my cheek. "I want to kiss you."

My brain short-circuited. I couldn't process what he was saying. It was like the world faded away, and there was nothing besides the beat of my heart and his lips moving ever closer to mine.

When they touched, I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him down farther so that my chest pressed against his. As nice as his sweatshirt was, I wanted to feel his body against mine.

His arm banded around my waist, pulling me tight to him. I felt his possession in the way he held me and the confident way he kissed. His tongue swept into my mouth, and I felt myself opening to him, to the idea of us.

When he finally pulled away, my knees were weak, and my entire body was tingling with awareness. Had we just kissed on the front porch with my kid doing homework in his room?

It was reckless and crazy, yet I couldn't bring myself to regret it. It felt too good.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't resist—" Jameson backed away a step, and I wanted to pull him to me.

I wanted to kiss him again. The desire bubbled in my stomach and spread through my chest. "I'm not complaining. I liked it."

Jameson's eyes widened. "You liked it?"

I nodded, and he stepped toward me, his hand diving into my hair.

"I didn't plan for this. I thought I'd keep my distance. There's Owen, the team to consider."

"But what about us?" How could something that felt so good be wrong? I wanted him to kiss me again, so that I forgot about all of it.

"What about us?"

"Why can't we do what feels good? No expectations. No promises. Just feel." I couldn't believe the words were coming out of my mouth. I wasn't a one-night-stand girl or one who got into flings. I was a relationship girl through and through. But I didn't want to worry about all the complications and issues that could arise from us seeing each other.

The hand in my hair stilled. "Is that what you want?"

I bit my lip, then nodded. This time I didn't wait for him to make a move; I went up on tip toes, falling against him. His hand went to my hip where he gripped me tight enough that I felt him.

He kept his mouth just out of reach. "If we do this, I don't want anyone to get hurt."

At that moment, I was trembling with anticipation. "No one will get hurt." It sounded like a reasonable possibility when I said it. But that was because I wasn't thinking rationally. My body was saying yes, yes, yes, and I wasn't going to deny myself when I hadn't felt this good in forever.

Jameson was hot and burning me up inside.

His lips crashed against mine. This time it was a little wild and desperate. He lifted me so that my legs wrapped around his waist. When his cock nestled between my legs, I ripped my lips from him.

"We can't do this here."

He let me down, then stepped away, running a hand through his hair. "That got a little out of hand."

"I wanted every part of it, but yeah, we're on my front porch." I couldn't believe I'd straddled him where anyone walking by with their dog could see us. Instead of feeling embarrassed, I felt alive. Every nerve in my body was on heightened awareness, my skin was tingling, and my blood was on fire.

"When can we see each other again. Alone?" Jameson's voice was low as if he was afraid of Owen overhearing us, but I knew he'd have his ear buds on while he worked.

"I'll have to figure something out." Because there was no chance I wasn't exploring whatever this was.

Jameson nodded, his expression tight, his eyes dark.

"I don't regret anything we just did."

"I didn't know if you felt the same way I did."

"I didn't either."

It was like we were just realizing there was something between us that was reciprocated, and it felt amazing to know he felt the same.

The door opened, and I startled even though we weren't doing anything wrong. "Can you help me with this problem?"

"English?" I asked hopefully, knowing it was probably math.

"Math." Owen's face fell. "I know it's not your thing."

"I can help with math. That was my major in school."

I waved a hand at him, grateful to not figure out algebraic equations tonight. "Have at it."

They went inside, and I sat on the porch, trying to figure out what had just happened. I felt different. As if Jameson had shown me something I hadn't seen before. Now that I knew it was there, I couldn't unsee it. I couldn't walk away.

A few minutes later, the door opened. "I couldn't find you."

"I haven't moved far." It was cool outside, but my skin was still overheated from that kiss. "You get him sorted?"

"Yeah, he got it quickly. I'm happy to help with math if he needs it. I'm good at it."

I stood and moved toward him. "That would be great. But don't feel obligated. You already do so much for us."

I rested my hand on his chest, and his hand curled around my wrist as if he wanted to keep me there. His heart beat steadily under my palm.

"I want to help."

I let out a breath. "And I want to let you."

"I know how big this is for you, and I don't want to hurt you."

"So don't." I had fantasies about this being the start of something amazing and permanent. But the practical side of me knew that Jameson probably wanted to start a family with someone who didn't already have a child. He wanted someone without all the baggage I came with.

He kissed me softly this time. "I should go before Owen walks in on us."

He let go of my wrist, and my hand fell away. "Thank you for dinner."

"Anytime."

I watched him turn and jog down the stairs. He didn't ask for his sweatshirt back, and I wasn't going to offer it. I'd be sleeping in it tonight, and I hoped I'd dream about him.