Jameson's Salvation

by Riley Edwards

  “You all right?”

  I thought about lying and saying I was fine, but Jameson would sniff that out in a second so instead I told him the truth.

  “No. I’m sick of him bothering me. I’m scared he’s gonna make my life hell and somehow force me to sell like he did Mrs. Nickels. I know he put the word out for no one to rent her land. I’m not sure what he can do to me, but I do know I don’t want to find out.” I stopped and took a shaky breath. “Thank you for coming when you did. You stopped me from committing a felony. Or at least a visit from the police and Reggie suing me to fix his truck.”

  “Right place, right time. Or should I say, Reggie picked the wrong time for his visit when I was on my way over. Were you really gonna shoot his truck?”

  “Yep. I was gonna shoot out his windows and enjoy the sound of glass shattering. Probably not the smartest plan, but he will not leave me alone. This is my land, he has no business coming here. I’ve tried being nice, but it doesn’t work. I lost my temper.”

  Jameson continued to look at me for a long time. He looked like he was wrestling with his thoughts, and finally with a nod he asked, “Babe, do me a favor, yeah?”

  Babe?

  Why did hearing him say that give me a warm, tingling feeling?

  “Okay.”

  “Go put your gun away.”

  Was he nervous I had a gun?

  “I know how to shoot. I’m not gonna accidentally shoot a hole in my ceiling.”

  “No doubt. But Weston’s on his way over and I want to—”

  “Weston?”

  “Yeah, remember, he works with me.”

  “I remember who he is, but he’s comin’ here?”

  “That a problem?”

  I glanced down at myself and seeing as I was in filthy clothes and looked like a sweat-drenched pig, it was a big problem.

  “I’m not fit for company.” I shoved the shotgun at Jameson. “Here. The safe’s still open. Will you put that away and lock it up for me?”

  He took the gun from me and shook his head. “What does that mean? Not fit for company.”

  “Look at me. I’m a wreck. I need to go rinse off.”

  “Um.” Jameson chuckled. “I’m standing here. Do I not count as company?”

  “No. Friends don’t count. I’ll be right back.”

  I didn’t wait to see if Jameson was locking up my shotgun—I was sure he knew his way around guns and would understand how to lock my safe.

  I jogged up the stairs and rushed to undress, tossing my dirty clothes on my bedroom floor, and made my way to the bathroom. I turned on the taps and my mind was going a mile a minute while I waited for the water to warm up.

  I was halfway through my very fast shower, rinsing the shampoo out of my hair, when the water went ice cold. I screeched at the shock and jumped out of the spray.

  “Goddammit!”

  Suds still covered my body and soapy water was sluicing down my face. I blindly felt for the taps to turn off the now unbearable cold water, then opened the shower curtain to reach for a towel to wipe my face.

  “Dammit, dammit, dammit,” I angrily muttered.

  “You okay?” Jameson asked. His voice was close and I was naked with the curtain open.

  With my eyes still closed, I scrambled to yank the towel off the bar and in my haste, I pulled too hard. I heard metal clank on the tile floor and started to stumble back.

  Why had I insisted on tiling the shower floor? Why hadn’t I gone with a plastic insert? The shower bottom was slippery as hell, especially when it was covered in shampoo. I was going to fall and break my neck in my own shower. Jameson would find my naked dead body and Reggie would surely scoop up my property.

  “Son of a bitch,” Jameson bit out.

  Two strong arms grabbed my biceps and I was hauled forward, slamming into a hard wall of muscle. My hands and the towel were trapped between us, and if my eyes weren’t already screwed shut to prevent soap from blinding me, I would’ve closed them in humiliation.

  “Can you stand?” he asked.

  “Sure,” I mumbled.

  “Don’t move.”

  He stepped away and I heard the vanity cabinet open and close and the faucet turn on then off. I adjusted the towel and prayed it was covering my lady parts. I tried to remember when the last time I shaved and trimmed was. If my parts were on display, a big hairy bush would only add to my mortification.

  Get a grip, Kennedy. Who cares if your pubes are out of control? Me. I care, dammit.

  I jerked in surprise when a wet washcloth was pressed against my forehead. Then Jameson carefully commenced washing the soap off my face. He went back and rinsed the washcloth and repeated his efforts, paying close attention to my eyes.

  “That should do it. Open your eyes.”

  I slowly opened them and blinked. When I didn’t feel the burn of shampoo in my eyes, I stopped blinking. That was when I came face-to-face with Jameson, a look of concern on his handsome face.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Care to explain.”

  “I’m standing in my bathroom naked, not sure what the towel I’m holding is covering or what you saw—”

  “I wasn’t looking, Kennedy. I was more concerned about what had you screaming.”

  Well, that was somewhat of a disappointment and further hammered home his disinterest. I mean, I was grateful he didn’t get an eyeful, but at least he could’ve lied and said he was too gentlemanly to gawk.

  “The water went cold,” I explained.

  “The water went cold? It’s damn near ninety degrees outside, you were taking a hot shower?”

  “No, not hot. But it was warm, then it was suddenly ice cold and it shocked the shit out of me. I didn’t mean to scream, it was just…well…shocking.”

  His eyes flitted down to my chest before they came back to my face and gone was the concern. His gaze heated and I became acutely aware of how close he was standing. His hand came up and picked up a soapy hank of my hair and rubbed it between his fingers. When he set it back down the back of his knuckles brushed just below my collarbone. Slowly they skimmed down my bare skin, over the swell of my breast until I lost his touch because the damn towel was in the way. My nipples started to tingle and I doubted the terrycloth material would do much to prevent Jameson from feeling the hard nub as his knuckles grazed over it.

  I stood motionless, our eyes locked, and in deep contemplation wondering if I should drop the towel. It would be easy, my hand was the only thing holding the bunched material to my front. Before I could summon up the bravery, Jameson dropped his hand and stepped back.

  “I’ll let you figure out how you’re gonna rinse your hair and let Weston in.” His voice was deeper than I’d ever heard it—almost hoarse.

  The gravelly sound made other parts of me tingle and my body shook. His hazel eyes flashed and I knew he saw it. How embarrassing.

  “Kennedy?” he called.

  “Yeah?”

  “Rinse your hair and get dressed.”

  “Right.”

  But he made no effort to move and neither did I. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his. There was something sparking between us and I didn’t want it to end. It may’ve only been one-sided, that side being mine, but it felt damn good.

  “Now, babe.”

  “You’re the one that needs to move,” I reminded him. “I’m the one standing here practically naked.”

  “Son of a bitch,” he repeated his earlier remark and stepped away.

  He turned and left and I remained rooted in place.

  What the hell just happened?

  I shook myself out of my stupor, shut the bathroom door, and looked at my sink. With no other choice but to rinse my hair in the small basin, I turned on the water and caught sight of myself in the mirror.

  Hoping the towel had slipped some since I walked out of the shower, because if it hadn’t, Jameson had gotten quite a look. The material stopped just above my nipples
and barely had covered my crotch.

  Why did that knowledge excite me more than it embarrassed me? Why couldn’t I get his husky voice out of my head? Maybe because, that was what my Dream Jameson had sounded like, when he was ordering me to ride him harder. Maybe because I hadn’t been so attracted to a man ever.

  Maybe because I was a silly girl and my mind was filled with nonsense.

  7

  Jameson

  Jameson walked down the stairs as slowly as humanly possible and adjusted his hard dick in his pants. He’d done his best not to look at all of Kennedy’s exposed skin, but good God, he couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming. His body’s reaction to her was instant and visceral. He couldn’t stop his dick from responding and he’d tried his best. Never had he not had control of every part of his body before.

  He’d seen plenty of women in more of a state of undress and had never had to fight from getting hard. He was not one of those men who was led around by his dick. His mind was always in full command of his actions. But Kennedy tested all of his strength and he’d failed.

  By the time he’d reached her front door to greet Weston, his dick was no less hard and he had to stop and take a second. Maybe he should’ve been ashamed of his reaction but he wasn’t. He also wasn’t ashamed he’d woken up with a raging hard-on this morning after a hot dream starring the two of them having wild sex. And the only thing that had stopped him from ripping the towel away and carrying her to her bed to see if she sounded like she had in his dream when his head was between her legs and his mouth latched onto her pussy, was because he’d heard Weston pull into the drive.

  He wasn’t sure if he was pissed at his friend for his punctuality, or grateful.

  The knock on the door pulled Jameson from his thoughts and thankfully the pulsing in his dick started to subside.

  He opened the door as his friend’s hand was up and ready to rap on the wood again.

  “Took you long enough.” Weston smirked.

  “You knocked once, jackass.”

  “Yeah, but I know you heard me drive up.”

  “Whatever. Come in.”

  Weston stepped inside Kennedy’s remodeled farmhouse and he looked around. “Nice place.”

  “It is. She did the reno herself.” Jameson hoped Weston didn’t hear the pride in his voice.

  “Seriously? Herself?”

  “Yep. Tore down walls, re-plastered, did all the trim and molding herself.”

  Weston glanced around the open space again and nodded. “Good work.”

  When Weston’s gaze came back to him, he knew by the smile of his friend’s face he was about to catch shit.

  “Heard she was smokin’ hot.”

  Jameson’s eyes narrowed and his body went taut. That wasn’t what he was expecting.

  “Did you?”

  “Sure did. Holden said she’s a—”

  “Careful,” Jameson snapped.

  “Careful?”

  Jameson had walked right into Weston’s trap and gave away more than he should’ve.

  “Was gonna say, Holden told me she’s a nice, sweet woman.”

  “Right.”

  Weston smiled at his feet, shook his head, and muttered, “People in hell must be drinking ice water.”

  “Come again?”

  “Nothing. Where’s she at?”

  “Shower.”

  Weston’s brows hit his hairline and he chuckled. “That was fast.”

  “Don’t be a dick. She was working outside all morning and wanted to clean up before you came over. Before she comes down, I need to fill you in…”

  Jameson quickly retold the story of Reggie Coleman being at the house when he’d pulled up. Through the brief, Weston’s irritation rose to the surface.

  “She got her shotgun?” he asked.

  “Yep. She was gonna let loose on his truck.”

  “I think I like her already.”

  Jameson wasn’t sure why his friend’s innocent, off the cuff comment pissed him off but it did.

  “Yeah, well, as amusing as it would’ve been to see, it would’ve bought her a metric shit-ton of problems.”

  “It would’ve, but the asshole would think twice about coming back,” Weston noted.

  “Or it would’ve made the asshole double-down in his fight to take her property.”

  “Hey. Sorry,” Kennedy said, bounding down the stairs.

  Jameson wanted to groan at the sight. Short cutoff shorts that showcased her long, tanned, toned legs. Tight tank top that not only clung to her midriff but to her perky tits, too. And bare feet that padded down the stairs. Clean and fresh, with her hair still wet hanging long around her shoulders, she looked younger than he knew her to be.

  Weston cleared his throat and under his breath Jameson heard him mumble a good God. He knew why that comment pissed him off. Jealousy reared its ugly head.

  The day before, Jameson had caught Holden staring at her, but he knew Holden had less interest in more than a one-night stand than Jameson did. Holden was a shameless flirt but would not touch a woman who had a hint of sweet. He preferred women who’d been around the block a couple hundred times and wouldn’t attempt to call him the next day. He’d been hung up on a woman named Charleigh since before she’d married their buddy, Paul.

  Charleigh made her decision and chose Paul over Holden and he’d never recovered. After Paul died in combat, Holden had stayed away from Charleigh and her daughter, Faith, at all costs.

  But Weston? He was looking for something permanent. Had been even when they were all still in the Navy. He wanted a wife and kids and had no problem admitting it.

  By all accounts if someone was going to try to hook up with Kennedy, it should be Weston. She was exactly his type. Hell, she was every man’s type. Beautiful, smart, capable, strong, and extremely sexy.

  “Did I miss anything important?” Kennedy was looking between the two men but her eyes landed on Jameson and suddenly he felt like he was ten feet tall and made of steel.

  The small gesture meant nothing, Kennedy was simply looking to him because Weston was a stranger to her. But it felt great all the same.

  “Nope. Kennedy, this is Weston,” he introduced.

  “Nice to meet you,” she replied, but made no move to shake his hand.

  “You, too,” Weston returned, openly staring at her.

  The overwhelming urge to punch his friend was becoming harder and harder to tamp down.

  “Jameson told me about today’s run-in,” Weston informed her.

  “Yeah. I don’t often lose my temper but that man pushes my buttons like no one else.”

  “Have you scouted the perimeter?” Weston tore his gaze from Kennedy and faced Jameson.

  “Not yet.”

  “I’ll go start. Nice to meet you, Kennedy.”

  Weston tipped his head and started for the front door.

  “I’ll be right out,” Jameson called to his friend.

  Jameson waited for the door to shut and moved to Kennedy, closing the space between them.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah?”

  Her answer was posed as a question so Jameson went on.

  “It wasn’t cool of me to barge in on you while you were in the shower.”

  Kennedy smiled and her face flamed red. “Told you I could act like a pansy girl. I’m a little embarrassed I screamed from a little cold water.”

  He was happy to hear that was all she was embarrassed about and not that Jameson had practically seen her naked. And if he was honest, he had caught sight of her tits before she covered them. The vision was something he wouldn’t soon forget.

  Needing to get one last thing out of the way, he held her eyes and apologized. “I shouldn’t’ve touched you the way I did.” A flash of disappointment shone in her green eyes and Jameson wished he was a different sort of man. “I shouldn’t—”

  “I get it,” she cut him off.

  Her wounded gaze was his undoing. She’d thought he was rejecting her—again
.

  “Babe, you don’t get it. You don’t have the first clue why I couldn’t stop myself from touching you and why it can’t happen again. I am insanely attracted to you, seeing you wet, barely dressed…well, let’s just say it took all of my control not to test that attraction. This is me protecting you from me.”

  “Why do you think I need protecting?”

  “Because I know myself. I know the kind of asshole I am. And I know you deserve better than what I can give you.”

  “What is it you think I deserve?”

  “A man who will give you more than a great fuck and a couple of orgasms. A man who will call you the next day. A man who’s ready for commitment and one who doesn’t hate the world.”

  Kennedy stood straight and pushed her shoulders back, which only drew Jameson’s eyes to her chest. Pretty, rose-colored nipples were hidden behind the navy blue tank she wore and he couldn’t help but wonder if they tasted as sweet as they’d looked.

  “That’s mighty presumptuous of you.”

  “Say what?”

  “You presuming I have the time or energy for a commitment—or that I’d want one.”

  “Right,” he muttered disbelievingly.

  “You’re awfully full of yourself. Not to mention, you’re making some pretty big assumptions about what I want. But your message is received loud and clear.”

  She took a step back and Jameson immediately hated the distance. But this was what he needed. Her to be the strong one and push him away. Kennedy thinking he was an asshole now was better than acting on the attraction and hurting her later.

  8

  Kennedy

  It had been seven days since I’d seen Jameson.

  He and Weston had looked around my house, declared they were installing six cameras and a motion sensor flood light, and left to get what they needed.

  Only Weston had come back.

  He didn’t make excuses for his friend’s absence. He simply got to work and only stopped when I went outside to offer him a bottle of water.

  I’d found Weston was easy to be around. Mainly because he was funny and friendly. He joked and jabbed at me and called me Farmer Jill until I went out in my garden, picked us a cantaloupe and cut it up. The second the juicy square passed his lips, he announced he would be my farm hand if I paid him in cantaloupe and watermelon.