It was a good thing. He knew that. But something about her easy demeanor nagged at him, buzzing around his head like a mosquito in August.
“So what can I do for you?” he asked.
“I need your help with something.”
Definitely not here about last night then. “Okay, shoot.”
“The photographer for Sean’s wedding got into a car accident. He’s on his way to surgery and there’s no backup, so we’re totally screwed. I know you said taking pictures wasn’t your thing anymore, but I don’t suppose there’s any way you could fill in?”
“Aw, Jamie, I don’t know.”
He wasn’t sure if it was her request or the fact that she was acting so normal that was bothering him.
“Please,” she said, barreling through his reluctance. “If you don’t come, the only photos we’ll have will be whatever the guests take on their phones.” She paused, adding, “We’d pay you for your time and everything.”
“I can’t take money from you.”
Money was a key factor in the separation of their worlds. She lived in a Victorian house on the shore. He lived in a warehouse. Dinners with his dad were pizza deliveries at the shop, while the Matthews were longtime members of the Portland Country Club. If he wanted to keep their relationship on an even keel, he couldn’t let her pay him for something like this.
“Okay, then. No money.” Her lips twisted to the side in an expression she often made. One that was weird and cute and made him want to kiss them back into place.
Stop it.
“What if I said there was free beer and food in it for you?”
Dean laughed loudly. Man, she knew him well.
“All right.” He dragged the words out, trying to sound a lot more unenthusiastic than he felt. “I’m in. What time?”
She gave him the details and strode toward the exit in a flourish.
“Jamie, wait.” It was too odd, the way everything had been so easily swept to the side. He couldn’t let her leave without checking. “About last night…”
She waved a hand in the air. “It’s no big deal. Forget about it.”
Well, okay then.
He watched her leave, wondering what the hell he’d agreed to. He didn’t have any experience photographing weddings. Hell, he didn’t even know if his camera still worked. But he’d been compelled to say yes. To do something that made her happy.
He liked being the reason for her smile. It was probably why jealousy had snapped through him like a firecracker when she moved on in high school, a friendly wave thrown in his direction from the arm of the jock she went out with next.
It was a dumb feeling to have. He’d wanted her to find someone else. It was why he’d cut things off.
Dean retreated into the garage, finally able to get a grasp on what had been bugging him. He’d been looking for something with her—a hint of emotion in her eyes, proof that last night had some kind of effect. But his reality today was the same as it was six years ago, and she didn’t belong here. One day she wouldn’t be kidding about moving on, and he’d be happy for it. Her behavior was exactly what he should’ve hoped for.
So why did it feel like a pry bar was being jammed into his gut?
He shook it off. Helping her out was the right thing to do. To set things right and act like a real friend, for once.
It was the only way he could be sure her smile wouldn’t become tainted for good.
Chapter Six
Dean was enjoying himself a lot more than he’d expected.
The reception passed in a flurry of laughter, music and good food, although he hadn’t had any of the free beers Jamie promised him. He’d been a bit rusty with his camera and wanted to stay sharp. Putting on the suit he hadn’t touched in a while was another good reminder to lay off the booze. It fit, and he wanted it to stay that way.
He checked through the images on his camera, pretty happy with what he’d captured so far. The backdrop of cobalt blue ocean at the ceremony site. The bride and groom recessing down the aisle, guests raining a shower of fiery blossoms over them. The first dance, then Jamie’s brothers holding up their beers as they sang along to “Sweet Caroline”. Krissy and Mikey swaying to a slow song, a foot of space between them.
He hoped Mikey would remember some of the advice he’d given him and actually score tonight, but watching them together was like something out of junior high school. Except worse. And more awkward.
And then there was Jamie.
Dean sought her out in the crowded ballroom, locating her in the middle of the dance floor. She was laughing loudly, her head thrown back like she was on a roller coaster. She’d downed a couple of beers and more than her fair share of champagne, but what the hell. It was a party. And Jamie having fun was always a sight to be seen.
Not to mention her body in that dress. Jesus.
Short. Tight. A dark blue color that set off her skin perfectly, and fuck if it didn’t highlight the tight circle of her waist and those badass arms. He’d wanted to find a corner to hide her in and see how good that dress looked in a puddle around her feet.
Dean beat back the fantasy when the staff rolled out the wedding cake. His camera battery didn’t have much juice left and he didn’t have a spare, so he quickly began snapping shots of Kim and Sean as they cut the first slice. Jamie was standing off to the side, and without realizing it, Dean suddenly found himself zeroing in on her. Her hair was straighter today, more wavy than curly. He liked it, but didn’t think it suited her. He’d always seen her as too wild to be tamed, too fun to be trapped by any one style or life.
The last shot he got before the camera shut down was of her profile, the bride and groom blurred and out-of-focus behind her.
Discomfort landed like a sudden sucker punch. Dean pressed his hand to his belly, then loosened his tie. He was probably hungry or dehydrated. He hadn’t eaten a thing all day, too busy making sure he did his job.
Moving to where he’d stashed his things in the corner of the room, he packed the camera away and took off his tie, leaving it in one of the camera bag’s pockets. The bartender had saved him plate of food, which Dean tucked into and ordered a beer. He was off the clock now, so at least one free drink was in order before the night ended. He wolfed down his dinner and was halfway through a bottle of Shipyard Ale when someone tapped on his shoulder.
He glanced up. Jamie was behind him.
“Finished?” she asked.
“Yeah. Ran out of battery. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s a lot more than we would’ve had without you.” She reached a hand out. “Since you’re done, let’s dance.”
She waited patiently, her cheeks rosy. Dean shook his head.
“I’m not a dance at weddings type of guy.”
Jamie rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand anyway. “Whatever. It’s the last song. You’re dancing.”
Dean had no choice but to abandon his drink as she towed him behind her. It was almost embarrassing how easily she pulled him where she wanted.
Not that he was protesting all that hard.
The words “Kick it” came out over the speakers, and then the band broke out in a rendition of “Fight for Your Right to Party”. It was a shocker to hear a Beastie Boys song at such a posh place, but the bride and groom must have requested it, because they immediately rushed the floor.
Jamie released his hand and started to dance, but Dean held back around the periphery, doing some lame-ass bopping of his head and feeling like he didn’t belong. But then she threw her hands above her head at the chorus, her fingers in devil’s horns, and Dean couldn’t help but laugh. It was amazing how easily she was able to let go, to have so much fun in everything.
He gave in. Throwing a fist in the air, he jumped to the beat and sang along, calling out the lyrics he remembered until his throat went hoarse.
&nbs
p; It was the most fun he’d had in a long time.
She fell against him at the end, sweat on her brow. He thought the alcohol had finally gotten to her until she went up on her tiptoes and whispered, “There’s something I want to do. Come with me.”
The look on her face proved she was about to do something devious, and Dean wanted to stay wrapped up in the moment. To ride the wake of the rush she always seemed to be flying on.
She led him out of the ballroom. The rest of the club was empty. The private bar on the far end that would usually host evening cocktails was dark, the whole place rented out for them.
Amazing, how fantastic life was when you had money.
Jamie stopped by the entrance. The wedding gifts were stacked up on a table near it.
“Grab as many as you can carry,” she commanded.
Dean was too worked up to argue. It had been years since he’d pulled any kind of prank, and it was impossible to resist her sly grin. They scooped up the lot in three trips, piling them into the backseat of Jamie’s father’s car. He didn’t even know when she’d swiped the keys. Cackling as she reached the doorway, she paused to catch her breath and laid a hand on his chest.
“Okay, now look really upset.”
Her energy was infectious. “Like this?”
Dean frowned, and Jamie snorted. “Not like someone just told you Santa Claus isn’t real. Like something went horribly wrong.”
He practiced an expression of utter horror. Jamie scrunched up her nose and shrugged.
“It’ll do.”
Inside, she strode straight up to Kim and Sean. Jamie tugged on Sean’s sleeve.
“I’ve got to talk to you. It’s important.”
Sean’s eyes went wide as he took in Jamie’s solemn expression. The urgency in her voice nearly made Dean believe something awful had happened too.
“What is it?” Kim asked.
“It’s the gifts. I don’t know how, but someone must’ve put them on a golf cart, maybe to get them out of the way, I don’t know. Anyway, I went outside to move them into Dad’s car, and I think the cart got turned on accidentally because it’s barreling toward the water and I can’t stop it!”
Sean’s mouth dropped open. “Are you shitting me?”
Laughter bubbled up inside him. Dean coughed into his fist to hide it. How did she do this with a straight face?
Jamie pointed her fingers at both of them, like she was firing off pistols. “Gotchya!”
Kim immediately started laughing. Jamie’s brother, however, looked like he was about to throttle her.
“You promised—”
“I promised no pranks until after you were married. It’s after, so all bets are off, suckers.”
Sean clenched his hands into fists. Jamie came around behind Dean, hooked her chin over his shoulder and said, “Um…run.”
They took off together, sprinting out of the ballroom and toward the vacant bar. They crashed through a set of French doors, stopping when they reached the far end of the room.
Dean whirled around. Sean hadn’t followed them. He wasn’t afraid of Jamie’s brother, but he didn’t want to have to take the guy out at his own wedding either.
“I think we’re safe,” he said. Jamie was too busy laughing to hear him.
She fell into a rounded booth in the corner and swung her legs up onto the middle of the cushion, her hands on her stomach as if it hurt to laugh. Her dress had inched up her thighs, the fabric clinging to her hips.
Hunger clawed at Dean at the sight of her body sprawled out like that. With her legs up on the seat, her head tossed back and her smile wide, she looked so relaxed. So free. So Jamie. He stopped at the edge of the table and stared at her legs, wanting so goddamn badly to be trapped between them, to finally be buried inside her, to feel her heat and watch her mouth drop open in pleasure.
What was he thinking? She was his friend. His friend. When was he going to get that through his skull?
Jamie finally stopped laughing. She sighed and smiled. “That. Was. Awesome.”
“Yeah, you’re pretty damn funny when you want to be.”
Another giggle fizzled out of her. She looked ridiculously pleased with herself.
“We should probably lay low for a few,” she said. “Until the rage gets out of Sean’s system.”
“Why do you do it?” he asked. “The jokes on your brothers.”
He’d always found her prankster nature amusing, but never understood why she did it.
She shrugged. “Someone’s gotta take them down a peg or two. Make them feel less like the gods they think they are.”
There was more she was covering up, something other than sibling rivalry, but he couldn’t get a handle on what it was.
“Are you just gonna stand there?” She patted the spot next to her. “Sit.”
She lowered her legs and scooted over so he could join her. Dean held himself still, tension like a live wire inside him. It was as if every bone, every fiber in his body was dragging him forward, a magnet being pulled toward true north.
It wasn’t a good idea, not only because she’d been drinking. It was because he felt it again—that fuse that always simmered beneath the surface between them, waiting for a spark.
It was a dangerous feeling. Dean didn’t know if he had the power to resist it.
He sat down anyway. Jamie turned to face him, one elbow balanced on top of the seat cushion, her hand propping up her head. The motion put the soft, full curve of her breast into full view.
Dean clenched his jaw and clasped his hands together on his lap.
“Thank you for helping out today,” she said.
“No problem. I had fun.” His mouth went dry. He swallowed. “Thank you for hiring me.”
She grinned, her eyes drifting closed for a second, and Dean jumped at the chance to take her in. The rounded apples of her cheeks. Her neck and collarbones and the flat of her stomach. Her legs, curled up and pressed together beneath her.
He wondered if she still tasted the same.
“I didn’t hire you, silly. I bribed you with food and beer, which I hope you enjoyed.”
He didn’t answer, too distracted when she turned to the side and toed off her heels, then got back into the same position. She’d moved closer to him while she did it, or maybe he’d been the one to move, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he could feel the heat radiating off her, her body so close, all that gorgeous hair tumbling down over her shoulders.
He had to tighten his clasped fingers to the point of pain to stop himself from touching her. God, when had he started wanting her this badly?
His voice came out gritty when he said, “I had a good time anyway.”
“I’m glad.” Her eyes fell on his collar. “You look good in a suit.”
Dean’s pulse ratcheted up to full throttle. She brought a hand up to trace the edge of his neckline. Soft fingers stroked his neck.
He hissed in a breath. “Jamie.”
It came out sounding like he was trying to stop her, like he realized what was about to happen and the mistake they were about to make all over again. A war raged between his head and his body, between the right thing to do and what he wanted, but Dean’s ability to reason was hanging by a thread, and he couldn’t make himself sure this was a mistake anymore.
She shook her head. “Don’t talk.” Pulling him to her, she whispered, “Just don’t talk.”
Then she was kissing him, her mouth open and hot and hungry. She nudged his hands apart and crawled onto his lap, the warm weight of her legs on either side of him. Dean lost the battle he’d been fighting, giving in to everything he’d been wanting.
Wanting until he was taking.
He grabbed her by the hips and settled her more firmly over his lap. She groaned, and the sound went straight down his spine. Dean thrust against
her, one quick lift that had him hard in seconds. His breathing grew heavy, breaths panted out through his nose until he was lightheaded, but he’d be damned if he stopped kissing her even for a second. He could live without air if it meant he could slide his tongue along hers, teasing dips into her mouth that had her grinding down on him like she couldn’t get enough.
He sure as hell knew he couldn’t.
She came up for air first, pulling back and working his shirt buttons with shaky hands. Two of them open and she fisted his collar, ripping it to one side to graze her teeth along his neck.
“Christ, Jamie.”
She nipped and sucked the spot where his neck met his shoulder—Jesus fuck, he couldn’t believe she remembered he liked that. Dean bucked up on instinct, head rolling to the side to allow for more. Every time she bit down it sent ripples of pleasure from his throat to his dick.
Time to show her he still knew how to push her buttons too.
He yanked her hands from his chest and wrenched them behind her. She didn’t fight him, just whined and rocked a little harder over him.
Oh yes. There it was.
Her wrists were small enough to fit in one hand, so he skirted his other one up her back and drove his fingers into her hair, fisting tight. She gasped when he pulled her head back. Dean hummed, loving the intensity of her reaction.
“That’s right,” he murmured. “I remember what this does to you.”
He tugged harder, and she moaned. “Dean…please.”
“Please what?”
He’d make her say what she wanted. After all these years, she’d better damn well say it out loud.
“Please touch me.”
He let go of her hair and her chin drooped forward, her eyes heavy-lidded with lust. Dean released her arms and pressed his thumb beneath her jaw, drawing her gaze up, forcing her to look at him.
“You sure?”
Jamie nodded, a rapid movement he didn’t want to question. She ground against him again, seeking more friction, surrounding him with heat. Fuck it all. She wanted him, and his brain was too foggy to figure this mess out anyway, to wonder what it would mean in the morning.
The Hierarchy of Needs (The Portland Rebels #2) Page 6