Chapter 6

Jameson picked Owen up and drove him to the gym. They'd be gone about an hour. Then he'd bring him home. Owen was enthusiastic about working out and seemed to enjoy spending time with Jameson.

They worked around Jameson's schedule, so he couldn't take Owen on days he worked at the firehouse. There'd been no mention of Owen taking his bike instead.

We'd barely had a chance to talk, and I wondered if Jameson sensed I was crushing on him and was trying to avoid me. Tonight, I invited him over for dinner again to thank him.

I had hated dating since before I was married, so maybe I wasn't used to reading the signs.

Jameson was younger than me and probably preferred someone who wasn't complicated. Even knowing we couldn't work didn't stop me from daydreaming about the what-ifs.

The possibilities had my heart beating wildly when Jameson knocked on my door later that night.

"I'll get it," Owen said as he ran down the stairs.

I let out a shaky breath when I heard their voices in the hallway, coming closer.

"It smells great in here," Jameson said with his signature smile, the one that had me thinking of him doing it in bed, promising to do wicked things to me.

My face flushed.

Jameson sobered. "Is everything okay?"

I smiled to cover my thoughts. "Of course. I hope you like shrimp scampi."

"I'll have to come for dinner more often if that's what you're having," Jameson joked with Owen.

"We don't ever have anything fancy. I think it's because you're here," Owen admitted to Jameson.

"Owen," I chided.

Had he noticed that I'd made an extra effort with the meal and my appearance? I'd have to be more careful.

Jameson winked at me. "You didn't have to do anything special for me, but I sure appreciate it. I know the basics of cooking. We all learned after my mom died."

I'd heard of other teachers' husbands being the sole cook in the house, and it always fascinated me because Eric refused. "I think that's great. It's a good skill to learn. I want to teach Owen but—"

"The last time I tried to make a grilled cheese, I started a fire." Owen's voice was hesitant.

"Have you cooked since?" Jameson asked.

I shook my head. "He hasn't."

"You should try it. There's no reason why you can't make grilled cheese. You just have to be careful what you keep near the burner."

"I don't know."

"I come home late some nights, and he needs more than a sandwich for energy," I said to Jameson, wishing that Owen wasn't afraid to cook. At the same time, it made me nervous.

I felt guilty that it had happened at all. But I couldn't be at work and home at the same time. He was old enough to stay home alone. But mom guilt was hard to shake.

I carried the bowl of noodles and shrimp to the table, and Jameson quickly moved to grab the heavy bowl. "I'll get that for you."

"Thanks." I wasn't used to anyone helping except for Owen. "Why don't you pour some water for us?" I asked Owen.

He moved quickly to comply, probably because Jameson was here. But I wondered if Jameson was influencing Owen to be more responsible. He'd always taken a shower every night they'd worked out.

Normally, I wouldn't want anyone interfering with my parenting. But Jameson was a good influence on him.

We sat down to eat, and I asked, "How are your workouts going?"

Jameson took a sip of his water, then said, "We've been working on the basics: arms, legs, chest, and back."

"Jameson's teaching me what to do on which day. It's a lot. But he's written the routine down for me so I can do it on my own."

"And don't worry; I'm teaching him good form," Jameson added.

"Do you think it will be okay for him to work out there by himself?"

"I don't see why not. It's a family gym. There are other teenagers there."

"I appreciate you doing so much to help him. Tryouts are next week." And I think I was more nervous than Owen was. I knew how important it was for him to have a group of friends and a place to belong. He was new to the school this year, which was tough. All the other kids already knew each other.

"We can do some work after dinner, but I'm confident you'll be fine."

Jameson's confidence in Owen's ability was everything. I could see Owen straighten and his chest puff out whenever Jameson said something positive. It made me realize that it was rare for Eric to give Owen any encouragement. Especially for sports.

We dug into the food, and Jameson said, "This is amazing."

"I'm glad you like it." I flushed with pleasure.

Eric expected dinner on the table, but he never acted like he enjoyed anything in particular. Sometimes I wondered if he did that on purpose. He had some internal rule that said you should never compliment someone else. He was so competitive himself. He didn't want anyone else to feel good about themselves.

But with Jameson, he was so honest and real. I loved that about him. He might come across as charming, but his actions proved that he was reliable and steady.

When Owen finished eating, he cleared his dish and asked to go outside. I let him go, and then it was just me and Jameson. I covered his hand with mine. "Thanks again for everything you've done for him."

Jameson's lips curved up. "It's been fun."

"I don't know many single men who'd spend their spare time helping a kid prepare for football tryouts."

"I'm happy to help."

"He's already feeling more confident."

"It's the working out. It really helped me when I was a teenager too. It will make him feel stronger even if he won't see the results for a while. Plus, it teaches him discipline. You get results with hard work and practice."

"You're pretty amazing; you know that?" I asked him, floored by his words.

Jameson shrugged. "It's nothing special."

"Owen's own father doesn't take the time to do this for him, and he certainly doesn't worry about his confidence or growth." It was tough shouldering all the responsibility for his upbringing. Eric only showed up for accolades and award ceremonies as if he had anything to do with Owen's success.

"He can get that from you."

"This isn't something I would have thought to encourage him to do. Go out for football? Yes. But starting a workout regimen? I wouldn't have known where to start. Do you think he has a chance at making the team?"

"Not knowing who he's up against, I can't say. But I think he has a good shot. He wants it. That's a big part of it. And he's willing to work for it. If he doesn't make it this year, he will next."

"I hope he makes it this year. I want him to make friends."

Jameson nodded in understanding. "Teams are great for that."

I stood and cleared the dishes. Jameson helped, then excused himself to go outside with Owen. When the kitchen was clean, I carried glasses of lemonade outside for them. As soon as they saw me, they ran over.

"This is perfect. Thanks." Jameson raised a brow in Owen's direction.

"Yeah, thanks, Mom," Owen added sheepishly.

"You're welcome. You need me on defense again?"

"That would be great," Jameson said with a wink when he'd drained his glass.

We went to the yard and ran through some drills similar to the last time we were all together. When the sun started to set, Owen excused himself to take a shower.

"You want a beer?" I asked him.

"That would be great," Jameson said as he sat in the rocker.

My heart rate picked up. I hadn't intended to ask him to stay, but I had bought beers in case Jameson hung around one night.

I carried the two bottles out to the porch. It was a beautiful fall evening. There were a few kids playing outside and couples walking their dogs, but otherwise it was quiet.

"Thanks." Jameson took the bottle I offered him and took a long swig. "That hit the spot."

I sat next to him, sipping mine. "You're not working at the firehouse tomorrow?"

"I'm actually meeting with a realtor."

"Oh? I didn't realize you were planning to move."

"Yeah, it"s time for me to get a new place. But I want something with property. I'm just not sure I'll be able to find what I want."

"I chose a neighborhood for Owen thinking it would help him find friends, and it has. But having more property would be ideal." When I looked, anything with more acreage was too expensive for me on a teacher's salary.

"My sister's husband suggested I build a place on my family's farm. I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Why would you want to do that?"

"I could keep an eye on my father and keep the place running once he retires. I love the farm."

"If you have the room, I don't see why not."

He cradled the bottle next to his thigh, drawing my attention to his strong legs, and masculine pose. His legs were spread wide. "I have to think about it. I'll have a better idea after the realtor shows me what's available in the area."

"Let me know how it goes. I love house shopping." I still looked at pictures of new places for sale, imagining buying Owen a bigger place with a yard for him to play football in the back, not just the front. Our backyard was tiny. The patio took up most of the available space. Then there was a tiny strip of grass and a flower bed. We spent most of our time in the front yard, which was larger.

"I can do that," Jameson said.

We fell silent, and it was comfortable, but I wanted to know more about him. "Do any of your other siblings want to move onto the farm?"

"My sister and her daughter moved out last year. They're talking about renting her house to someone who could help us market the farm. Profits have been going down steadily, and we either need to think about closing or doing something to change it."

"I'm sorry you're dealing with that."

"There's a farm a little further out that's really picked up the marketing, and they're taking some of our business. I'd like to see the farm continue. Maybe the next generation will be interested in living on the farm and working it. We could use more help too. We're only open when one of us can be there. We have a few high school volunteers but not many."

"Would Owen be able to work there?"

"I'm not sure we can afford to hire anyone. Especially since we might be paying for a PR person."

"He can do his volunteer hours for school. A lot of the kids try to complete them in middle school."

"If he's interested, that might not be a bad idea."

"It will teach him responsibility, right?"

Jameson nodded. "That's right."

"You could be anywhere else on a night like tonight. If I were you, I'd probably be out with girlfriends, having a good time." I'd had Owen so young; I never got the opportunity to go out in college.

Jameson shifted so his elbows rested on his thighs. "I told you I like Owen. He's a cool kid."

It was hard for me to believe that's all it was. Even though Jameson seemed like a nice guy, Owen's own father didn't spend this much time with him.

"This is how I want to spend my time, so don't question it, okay?"

I sensed I'd hurt his feelings. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say anything to upset you. I'm grateful for your help. I just thought you'd want to go out to a bar or hang out with friends."

"I'm not twenty-one anymore. I don't need to go out to the bars."

I touched his arm, reveling in the ripple of the muscle underneath my palms.

His gaze met mine, and tingles ran through my fingers and up my arm.

I let my hand drop, and Jameson finished his beer, placing it on the side table. "I should head home. I have to meet with the realtor early tomorrow morning."

I followed him to his truck. "Good luck. I hope you find what you're looking for."

Jameson let out a breath. "Me too. I'm not exactly sure what that is yet."

Was that why he had so many jobs and filled his time to stay busy? He wasn't sure who he was or what he wanted? I thought he was great, but maybe he didn't think that about himself. Maybe he lacked the confidence he worked so hard to instill in Owen. Was the charm a persona he'd put on to meet their expectations?

Jameson intrigued me. He had so many layers to him. But he wasn't mine to get to know.

Jameson opened the door to his truck. "Owen promised he'd call after tryouts to let me know how it went."

"I'll make sure that happens."

I stepped back and waved before turning toward the house. Jameson was an amazing guy. But he wasn't for me. He was younger, still trying to figure out his life. And mine was set in stone. I kept my steady teacher job and raised Owen. I didn't need to discover myself or what I wanted. My purpose in life was upstairs in the shower.

Eric couldn't be bothered to make sure he was raised properly, so that fell to me. His dad was present but not interested in building confidence or responsibility. So why was Jameson so invested?

I wanted to think it was more than just being nice. That he saw something in me. But that would be ridiculous.

On the porch, I stood and waited for him to pull away from the curb. As much as I wanted someone like Jameson for myself, it would be foolish to think I could have him or that he even wanted me.

There were moments when I swore he felt the same attraction, but then he pulled away. I was looking for something that wasn't there. Wishing and hoping his actions meant something when I should take his help at face value. He was a nice guy. It didn't mean anything more than that.