Bad Behavior. Jessa James
at the three blondes, his shoulders slumping a little.
“Let’s go,” he says, waiting for the three girls to get up and make their way to the door. He looks back. “Bye, Emma.”
I wave, my cheeks going pink. Gunnar is definitely not my type, but he is ridiculously handsome. Not to mention a terrible flirt.
Jameson puts the paperwork on the bar, then returns to looking at the back wall. “You know what this needs?”
I cock my head. “No, what?”
“Some flowers,” he says, squinting up at the top shelf. “Like some of the dried flowers that the interior decorator brought, in empty liquor bottles.”
He goes into the back room, reappearing with a couple of stacked cardboard boxes. He comes over to the bar. “Do you mind?”
I pick up my law textbooks that I have scattered all around, shoving them to one side. “Nah. I’m not really even working anyway.”
Jameson chuckles as he opens one of the boxes. The first box contains empty liquor bottles, the labels on some of them so old that they’re starting to peel off. The second box is filled with dried flowers, mostly lavender and baby’s breath.
“Ooooh, these look great,” I say as he starts to lay set them out on the counter. “Can I help?”
“Sure. Thanks.” He says it kind of gruffly, but it still makes me blush.
I pick up a few of both kinds of flower, sticking them into the neck of the first bottle. I glance at him. “Like this?”
He looks thoughtful, and grabs a little more baby’s breath. “Maybe just a few more…”
He leans over, reaching across me to put them in the bottle. He’s suddenly really close, close enough that I can smell the scent of soap and leather on him. Goosebumps suddenly break out all over my arms, even though he’s not touching me.
I notice a couple of black lines peeking out of the neck of his shirt, leading down to… something. I didn’t know that Jameson had tattoos, but of course it makes sense. It fits right in with his brooding bad boy persona, if you ask me.
Plus
“Does this look good?” he asks, arranging the stems.
“What?” I ask vacantly. It takes some effort to rip my eyes from his muscular body. “Oh, uh. Yeah, totally.”
He shoots me a look, but doesn’t say anything. “If you want to do a few bottles, I’ll put them up over on the back wall.”
I bite my lip, nodding. I start to arrange another bunch, reaching for an empty bottle. He grabs the one he finished and starts trying it out different places among the full liquor bottles on the wall.
“This is really a smart idea,” I say to him.
“It’s funny to hear you say that, being that you’re in law school,” he says.
I frown, pausing. “That doesn’t mean that you can’t have a stroke of genius.”
Jameson glances back at me for a second, shaking his head a little.
“Are you serious? I definitely dumped a girl last week because she told me that I’m not very bright.” He frowns with concentration, replacing one of the bottles on the lower left. “What do you think about that? Maybe we could do six or seven bottles like that?”
“Wait, what? A girl told you you’re not very bright?” I ask, shocked.
“Yeah. I mean… I told her that I dropped out of my first year of high school to take care of Forest and Gunnar, and she goes, ‘That makes sense. It’s okay, I’m not dating you for your brain’.”
My jaw drops. “That’s not fair!”
He turns and looks at me. “It’s nothing to get upset over.”
“It is! She sounds like a bitch.” I put on an exaggerated pout.
His eyes crinkle with humor. “You’re cute when you’re all worked up.”
I turn beet red for about the thousandth time today. “I’m just stating facts,” I mumble, embarrassed. Luckily, the moment passes, and I go back to arranging flowers in their makeshift vases.
Jameson puts a couple more bottles up, then pauses, stroking his stubbled chin. “I don’t think I can reach any higher. How do you feel about climbing up to stand on the shelf here?”
I raise my eyebrows. “Ummm…”
He pats the back shelf. “I mean, I’d help you get up and down. I promise not to look up your dress or anything.”
I imagine the kind of help he means, which would probably involve a lot of close contact. I push up out of my seat.
“Sure.”
“Alright, come here,” he instructs, looking at the wall. “I’ll boost you up.”
I do as he says, taking his hands. I feel weird, doing a physical activity in my tiny pale green sundress. I blush again. The feel of his hands on my body is absolutely sinful, though there’s nothing sinful about what we’re doing.
Jameson’s so much warmer than I am, just by nature. I take a deep breath, inhaling his clean scent. He grabs me by the waist, pushing me up, until I can stand on the shelf.
At some point in the transaction, he pushes my actual ass up with one big hand. I can’t help the nervous laughter that escapes me.
“Are you steady?” he asks.
“I think so—” I say. Then I squeak as I fall backwards.
Shit shit shit shit— I definitely expect to hit the ground, hard.
But then I land in Jameson’s arms, as perfectly as I could’ve dreamed. Our faces are so close just then, his eyes on my face. All I can think of is that I am surely going to drown in his dark gaze.
His eyes dip down to my mouth. I swear, the whole world around us slows. I lick my bottom lip, suddenly more certain than anything that he’s about to kiss me.
Yes. It’s happening. My eyelids start to flutter closed, in preparation.
“Whoa!” Asher’s voice throws me for a loop. I open my eyes to see him coming in through the front door. Jameson hastily puts me down, moving to step away from me. “What’s going on?”
“I fell!” I blurt out, not wanting Jameson to get in trouble with Asher. “I was trying to reach something. Jameson just caught me, is all.”
“Relax,” Asher says, coming up behind the bar. “Jameson knows the rule. Don’t you, Jay?”
Jameson is slightly red-faced. “Yep. Emma is off limits.”
I grimace at his words. Yeah, yeah, they’ve been saying the exact same thing ever since I turned thirteen.
“That’s right,” Asher says, clapping him on the back.
Jameson looks so guilty, I almost feel bad for him. That is, until he speaks.
“I would never do that to you,” he says to Asher. Then he looks me right in the eye. “Never.”
My cheeks start to burn, and I clench my jaw. “I’m not a little girl, Asher. I can make decisions for myself.”
Asher and J both look at me. Asher snorts. “Not with my friends, you can’t. Isn’t that right, J?”
There’s a few seconds of silence. I look at J, at the conflicted expression on his face. I begin to feel a tiny flicker of hope. Is he about to stand up for me?
God, is he about to tell Asher that he has feelings for me? My heart skips a beat.