4. Jameson

4

JAMESON

T hrough the window, I can see that Amelia has returned to her desk, and I can't help but admire her once again. She looks as beautiful as ever, even though she's completely absorbed in her work. The familiar green and white colors of an Excel spreadsheet glow on her computer screen, but it's her that captivates me. She's wearing her reading glasses, which gives her an air of studiousness that I find utterly enchanting. In that moment, she reminds me of a naughty librarian, a fantasy I've indulged in more than once. The way her hair falls softly around her face as she leans in closer to the screen makes my heart race, and I can't shake the feeling that there's something more than just a professional connection between us.

As I enter the office, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. In this space, I could be myself, free from the judgmental eyes of the world. I hope that Amelia feels the same way, that she can find solace here as well. Because, at the end of the day, it isn't about catching my prey - it was about loving and being loved in return.

"Hey, sweetheart," I greet her warmly as I walk through the door, letting the familiar scent of oil and metal wrap around me like a comforting embrace. "I just want to apologize for what happened before. That should never have happened." I can feel the weight of my words hanging in the air between us, a fragile bridge to cross after the tension of the moment we shared. I hope she understands that my intentions were never meant to blur the lines of our professional relationship.

Amelia jumps at my sudden entrance, her surprise a mix of shock and charm that I find pretty cute. I can't help but smile at her reaction, the way her eyes widen and her breath catches for just a moment. "It's okay," I assure her, my tone gentle and reassuring. "It's not your fault." I want her to feel at ease, to know that the tension from before doesn't have to linger between us.

Well, naturally it's not Amelia's fault, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't happily lay into the guy who caused her such pain. The red rims around her eyes are a clear indicator that his cruel words have left a deep impact on her, and it takes all my self-control not to hunt him down and give him a piece of my mind. Or maybe something a bit more physical. It's a low blow for a man to say such things, and he doesn't deserve to get away with it.

"Amelia," I say, my voice steady and firm, "no man has the right to speak to you like that. It's not okay, and it's certainly not your fault. You deserve to be treated with respect and kindness, always." I can see the doubt and uncertainty in her eyes, and I hope that my words are enough to help her see that she's not to blame for someone else's cruelty. She's a strong, capable woman, and she deserves to be treated as such.

"No, really, Jameson, it's fine," Amelia tries to brush it off, but I can see the hurt in her eyes. I can't stand by and let her think that what that man said is acceptable.

I step towards her desk with a determined expression on my face. "It's not fine, Amelia," I say firmly. "You're beautiful, sexy, gorgeous, and the perfect size. Don't let what that man said make you feel like anything less. You're a smart, capable woman, and you deserve to be treated with respect and kindness, always. And you deserve to be loved for who you are, not for some idealized version of what someone else thinks you should be."

I can see the doubt and uncertainty in her eyes, but I also see a glimmer of hope. I hope that my words are enough to help her see that she's not to blame for someone else's cruelty. She's a strong, capable woman, and she deserves to be treated as such.

I take a deep breath and continue. "Amelia, I know that I'm not perfect. I'm an older man, and I own a mechanic shop. I'm not exactly the kind of guy that most women would look twice at. But I see you, and I see the amazing woman that you are. I see your strength, your intelligence, your kindness, and your beauty. And I want to be with you, Amelia. I want to be the one who treats you with the respect and love that you deserve."

I can see the surprise in her eyes, and I can tell that she's not used to hearing words like this. I hope that my words are enough to help her see that she's deserving of love and respect and that she doesn't have to settle for anything less.

I take a step closer to her and reach out to take her hand. "Amelia, will you give me a chance? Will you let me show you how much you mean to me?"

She looks up at me, and I can see the uncertainty in her eyes. But I can also see the hope, and the desire. And that's enough for me. I'll do whatever it takes to show her that she's worthy of love and respect, and that she deserves to be treated like the amazing woman that she is.

I can see her struggling to accept this. The wheels in her head are turning, and I can almost hear the gears grinding as she tries to solve a puzzle that seems impossibly tangled. I wish I could make her see what I see—the potential, the beauty, the strength within her that she often overlooks. "Stand up," I tell her, my voice steady and inviting.

She narrows her eyes at me, her expression a mix of suspicion and curiosity. "Why? What are you going to do?" The tension in the air is palpable, and I can sense her hesitation weighing heavily on both of us.

I've given her no reason to doubt me, yet I understand why she feels this way. After years of teasing and doubt, it's no wonder she's on guard, ready to protect herself from another disappointment. I can see the shadows of her past lingering in her eyes, and it makes my heart ache. "Nothing bad. Just stand up. Do you trust me?" My voice softens, hoping to break through the walls she's built around her heart.

Amelia huffs, her exasperation palpable as she pushes back in her chair. "No," she responds defiantly, yet I can see the wheels turning in her mind. "But I guess I have nothing to lose." With that, she stands up anyway, her determination mingling with uncertainty.

"Now come over here to me," I command, my voice firm and unyielding. The dominance in my tone is evident even to me, and I watch as a visible shiver runs down her spine. It's a small reaction, but it ignites something within me as she slowly follows my command, her steps hesitant yet deliberate.

"You know, there's only so many things you can get away with as my boss," she reminds me, a playful edge to her words. "There's a line somewhere and?—"

Sometimes, she talks too much, and this is one of those times. The air between us thickens, and I decide it's time to take control. "Do us a favor," I cut her off, my tone brokering no argument, "and shut up."

Her mouth drops open in surprise as she stands in front of me, caught off guard. "Rude," Amelia whispers, her eyes narrowing slightly as she processes my words, "that's so rude." There's a spark there, a fire that I both admire and find utterly captivating.

Looking down at her, I can't help but smile. At 5'6", she's still almost a foot shorter than I am, yet there's an undeniable strength in her presence that makes her seem larger than life. "Your eyes are the color of honey, which is why I call you honey so much. It suits you, don't you think? And I call you sweetheart because you're the sweetest person I know, even more so than my mama. But I suppose that isn't a fair comparison; that woman is only five foot and she used to whoop my ass more times than I can count."

The laughter that escapes her lips fills the office, a warm and inviting sound that wraps around me like a cozy blanket. It lights up her face, and I can feel my heart swelling at the sight of her joy.

"That right there," I say, nodding towards her radiant smile, "when you laugh like that, you're simply radiant. You're the sun shining down on all of us, illuminating the shadows with your warmth. How do we dare to compare to someone as bright as you?" I watch her, hoping she understands just how special she truly is.

"I didn't know you were a poet, Jameson," Amelia says, a hint of surprise dancing in her eyes as she bites her lip, her cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink.

I can't help but smile at her reaction, the way her body language shifts, revealing the vulnerability beneath her confident exterior. I reach out to grab her hands, feeling the warmth of her skin against mine, but I also notice that they're shaking just slightly. Yet, as I hold her hands firmly, they steady in my grip, and I can feel the connection between us deepening. "Amelia, I'm serious," I say, my voice low and sincere. "I don't know what you've been through in your life or who's made you feel like you're anything less than perfect, but you're beautiful. You need to hear this: pricks like that Andrew character aren't worth your time or your heart. He doesn't deserve your feelings or your tears or your time."

Her brow furrows as she processes my words, and she pauses, biting her lip harder as if she's weighing the weight of my honesty against her own insecurities. "I just, I don't think you should be talking to me this way," she finally responds, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "Maybe you should?—"

It's been a year since Amelia walked into my life, and these feelings I've developed for her have steadily grown like a well-tended garden blossoming beneath the sun. It's not just the fact that she's beautiful, though she certainly is—a curvy woman with an infectious smile that lights up my dreary mechanic shop. It's also her sense of humor, the way she can make me laugh even on the longest, toughest days. She's kind and caring, always looking for ways to help my business thrive despite the fact that I can barely afford to pay her a fair wage. I know I underpay her, and it eats at me; if I could find a way to invest in advertising or other improvements, I would prioritize giving her a raise first. She's not just an employee to me; she's transformed my office into a space I've always dreamed it could be.

I don't want Amelia simply because she's a captivating woman; it's her spirit that draws me in. I've grown to cherish the genuine connection we share, and even though I'm forty-two and she's much younger, I can't shake the feeling that there's something real between us. I hope that what I'm about to do doesn't scare her away.

"Shhh. Listen to me. You're perfect, Amelia. I promise." I lean down and press my lips to hers, feeling a rush of anticipation. It's my first real attempt to bridge the gap between us, to take that leap into a relationship I've longed for. Though she doesn't part her lips or kiss back in the way I had hoped, she doesn't immediately push me away either.

And that gives me hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, she feels something, too.