by Swan, T L
“Don’t fucking tell me,” Jameson whispers from beside me.
Crash sounds the thunder, and we both jump in fright as the forest flashes white.
“You can’t be serious,” he mutters into the darkness.
My back is to Jay, and I bite my lip to try to stop myself from laughing. He had a complete meltdown when we got into bed over the sound of the animals in the forest keeping him awake—in fact, he’s had about ten meltdowns.
This will be the icing on the cake.
The rain really begins to come down, and thunder begins to crack repeatedly.
“Well, this is just fucking great,” he huffs.
I smile and roll over to face him. “It’s fine. Tents are waterproof. Just go back to sleep.”
The tent continually lights up an iridescent white as lightning flashes through the sky.
He sits up and feels around the tent in the dark. He’s foraging for a long time on his hands and knees.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for a fucking light!”
I laugh out loud.
“How do you find this funny? Not one fucking thing about this is funny, Emily.”
He finally finds the light and puts it on his head and switches it on and looks at me.
His hair is all mussed and sticking up everywhere, and his eyes are wide and crazy.
Unable to help it, I get an uncontrollable fit of the giggles.
“What?”
“If you could . . .” I have to stop talking because I’m laughing so much. “If you could just see yourself.”
He smirks, and then a crash of lightning hits so close it sounds like it hit a tree right next to us.
“We’re going to fucking die tonight,” he stammers in a panic.
The rain hammers down, and I unzip the tent. We both peer out into the apocalyptic storm.
It’s really pouring down, and I zip the tent back up. “It’s fine. The tent is waterproof, and we’ll just have to try to sleep through it.”
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” he snaps. “Who could sleep through this?”
“Me—I could.” I lie back down and pull the sleeping bag blanket over me.
I smile when I remember Jameson’s earlier meltdown that he couldn’t touch me in my sleeping bag. In an hour-long operation, he unzipped both of our bags and put one underneath us and one over the top of us so that we could cuddle while we sleep. He’s super cute.
The tent begins to sway side to side as the windstorm picks up.
“Holy fucking . . . here we go,” he mutters as he looks at the ceiling of the tent.
One end of the tent lifts up in the wind, and he pounces over and holds the tent to the ground.
I burst out laughing again.
“Not helping,” he cries.
I jump up in my fits of giggles and grab his jacket and begin to put it on.
“What are you doing?” He frowns.
“I have to hammer the tent pegs back in.” I put my headlamp on my head.
His mouth drops open in horror. “What?”
“It’s the only way the tent will stay up.”
“You’re not going out there. It’s dangerous,” he whispers angrily.
“Somebody has to do it.” I pick up the hammer.
He snatches the hammer from me. “This will fucking do me in.”
I laugh.
“Goodbye, Emily.” He unzips the tent. “It was nice knowing you.” He disappears out into the storm.
“This is why you’re the CEO.” I giggle as I hear the metallic bangs as he hammers the tent pegs back in.
The rain really begins to pour down, and the wind is ferocious. Honestly, what are the chances?
Damn you, weather.
I unzip the tent and peer out into the pouring rain. He’s struggling to stay on his feet from the wind as he bends down and hammers tent pegs into the ground, headlamp still firmly in place. He’s muddy and sopping wet. I get the uncontrollable giggles once more, and unable to help it, I grab my phone and take some photos of him. Surely one day he’ll find this funny.
After ten minutes, he comes back in. He’s panting, wet, and covered in mud from the splashing of the rain. I grab a towel and begin to dry his hair. I peel his shirt off him and slide down his track pants. “Just get dry. It’s going to stop soon,” I say to try to calm him.
The sound of the rain is deafening above us, and he dries himself.
I shuffle through his bag and find him some dry clothes, and the tent begins to sway again as he hops around half-wet, trying to get dressed.
The tent lifts again.
“Get fucked,” he snaps.
Oh my God—this really is horrendous.
We hear a loud rip in the roof, and our eyes widen.
“Oh no . . . the tent,” I whisper. “We can’t damage the tent—it’s Michael’s.”
“I’ll buy the poor prick a camper. This is fucking intolerable,” he splutters.
Rip. The tent rips in half. “Ah,” I scream as our things go flying everywhere in the wind. I scurry to the ground as I try to throw everything into bags.
Some kind of sanity rubber band breaks inside him, and he puts his hands on his hips, tips his head back to the sky, and bursts out laughing.
“This isn’t funny. Get our bags to the truck,” I cry.
He laughs . . . and laughs . . . and laughs.
I scramble to keep our phones dry and run to the truck with our bags.
“Jameson,” I yell. “Do something.”
He turns to me and takes me in his arms in the pouring rain and kisses me. Our headlamps hit together, and I laugh too.
“This is ridiculous,” I whisper.
“Hotel?”
“Please.”
“Hello.” I smile at the receptionist of the tourist center. “Have you got any B and Bs available for two nights, please?”
The woman behind the desk types away.
We stayed in a hideous hotel last night, and Jameson refuses to stay there again. He said we can only stay the full weekend if I find somewhere half-decent for the next two nights. He’s chasing coffee outside for us.
The rain is gone, and at some stage we have to go back and pick up the camping stuff from the Armageddon storm last night. We just got our things and left. There was nothing we could do in the middle of the night in those conditions anyway.
“I only have a farmhouse.” She types and then reads. “Arndell is the property.”
I frown as I listen.
“It’s available for two nights, and you can have that at a discounted rate if you want.”
I smile. I love that she thinks we need a discount. “Okay, that sounds good. Thank you.” I slide over Jameson’s credit card, and she does the paperwork.
“Here are the keys.” She hands me a map. “Go down to Falls Road, and then the property has its own road in on the right.”
“Oh, how big is it?”
“The house is on three hundred acres. The land is gorgeous. The house is a little tired, but the location is stunning.”
I smile. “Cool, okay.”
I bounce out to the pickup to see my poor disheveled man. He looks like he’s been to hell and back, and funnily enough, I think it’s the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him. It’s as if that sanity rubber band that broke in him last night released some of his tension.
“Okay, we got a farmhouse.”
He reaches over and puts his hand on my thigh and hands me my coffee. He shifts the gears on the steering wheel and pulls out.
I smile out the window as I ride in the bumpy truck.
“Do you know we haven’t passed a car?” he says as he keeps his eyes on the road.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?”
He shrugs. “Different.”
We follow the directions, and ten minutes later we get to a big stone entryway with the sign.
ARNDELL
“This is it.”
We turn up the driveway, and I s
mile. The road is lined with huge trees that create a canopy. Rolling green hills are as far as you can see.
“Oh, look at this place.” I smile in wonder. “She said the land was beautiful.” For five minutes, we drive through until we get to the top of a hill and find a big old house. It’s white with a sweeping veranda around the edge. The roof is made of shingles, and it must be a hundred years old.
Jameson’s eyes find me.
“Don’t say anything.” I smirk.
He holds his hands up in the air as if crying defeat.
We climb out and open the front door and peer in. I smile broadly. Wide-timber floors, a huge fireplace, and great big windows with views out over the property. You can see for miles from up here. The furniture is dated, but that doesn’t matter to us.
I take Jay’s hand as we walk through and look around. A large living area, a formal dining room, a big kitchen, a bathroom, and a bedroom are downstairs. There’s an old timber staircase, and we go up to find five bedrooms and another bathroom.
I turn to Jameson and wrap my arms around his neck. “Is this better, Mr. Miles?”
He smiles as he bends to kiss me. “This will do.”
We lie on a blanket in the grass, and the sun is warm on our faces. It’s Sunday afternoon, and we are in a sleepy haze.
Last night was heaven. We lit the fire, and Jay humored me and helped me carry the mattress out so that we could sleep next to it.
Today we have explored the property and went into town to grab some groceries in our light-blue pickup truck.
Jameson is relaxed for the first time since we met.
I’m happy . . . so happy.
I roll to face him. “Tell me about your relationship with Claudia.”
He frowns and rolls to his side toward me. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
He reaches up and brushes his finger over my bottom lip. “It wasn’t like what we have.”
“How so?”
“Well, we were friends for a long time. There was never this instant attraction or . . .” His voice trails off.
“No, go on,” I urge. “I want to know.”
“She did some stories for us, and we got to know each other. Then . . . over time we built a friendship.”
I watch him.
“I thought . . .” He hesitates and plays with the blanket underneath him as he thinks for a moment.
“You thought what?”
“I thought she was the love of my life. She was like me. Driven.” He shrugs. “She got me.”
My stomach twists in jealousy.
“We were together for three years. Engaged.”
I frown. “You were engaged?” I didn’t know this. It was on her bio but not his, and I was hoping it was wrong.
“Yes.”
My eyes hold his. “What happened?”
He exhales heavily. “She was offered the job as editor in chief for British Vogue. It was a huge thing, and she had worked so hard to get it.”
I watch him as he speaks.
“She moved and . . .” His voice trails off.
“What?”
“We tried the long-distance thing, and I struggled with no sex. It’s not who I am.”
I frown.
“So we made a pact that we would be with other people but try again in a few years. We had a five-year plan of getting back together.”
My heart sinks. He still loves her.
“But then a year ago I met this girl on a plane.”
I smirk.
“And she was everything that I wasn’t looking for.”
Our eyes are locked, and the air crackles between us.
“But I couldn’t pursue her because of my promise to Claudia.” He takes my face in his hand, and his thumb dusts back and forth over my bottom lip. “I wanted to. I desperately wanted to. I felt a physical connection with her from the word go. I was hard the entire plane trip, and our night together was insane.” He smiles softly. “There was something about her that I couldn’t forget. She lingered in the back of my mind. I compared all sex and women with her since then.” He pauses as he tries to articulate his thoughts. “They always fell short . . . even Claudia.”
I smile as hope blooms in my chest.
“Recently I’d been thinking about her a lot, and I had even contacted the airline and found out her name.”
“You had?” I whisper. This is news.
He nods. “I got a photocopy of your passport emailed to me just six weeks before you started working for us. I’d planned on contacting you, but with everything going on at work, I hadn’t got around to it yet. I had no idea that you were coming to work for Miles Media.”
“That explains it, then.” I smirk.
“Explains what?”
“Why you never called. I look like a prisoner in that photo.”
He chuckles. “This is true.” He leans in and kisses me softly. “Tell me about your past loves.”
My eyes search his. “I can’t.”
He frowns.
“Since I met you, I’ve realized that I’ve never been in love before.”
He smiles softly. “What about the guy with Backseat Barbie?”
I giggle. “You remember him?”
“Yes.” He smirks as he pulls me over his body and holds me tight.
“What I felt for them, Jay, and what I feel for you is incomparable.”
We lie in silence for a while and stare up at the trees as they sway over us.
“I love you,” I whisper.
He kisses my temple. “Good, because I don’t camp in hell for just anyone.”
I giggle as I hug him. This man kills me.
Jameson
We stare at the fire as it flickers. It sporadically cracks as the wood burns. Emily is in front of me on our makeshift bed on the floor. We’ve just made love and are in a sleepy, relaxed state.
Home tomorrow.
To be honest, I could stay here with her forever.
She makes anywhere home.
Emily smiles up at me. Her long dark hair is splayed across the pillow, and her big eyes offer me a deep comfort. My hand slides down over her full breast and lower over her stomach. I turn her head and take her lips with mine. Our tongues dance in a slow erotic dance.
I’m so in love with this woman. When we’re alone, nothing else matters.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Her eyes search mine. “For what?”
“For finding me.”
She rolls toward me and takes my face in her hands. “We were always going to find each other,” she whispers. “Soul mates do that.”
I smirk as I tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear. “You don’t really buy into that soul mate mumbo jumbo thing, do you?”
“I didn’t.” She kisses me softly. “Until I met you.”
We stare at each other in the flickering light, and if I could bottle this moment, I would.
Never have I had something so raw and pure in my life.
Her love is a light . . . my light.
“Jay,” she murmurs as she runs her fingers through my stubble. Her eyes search mine.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Can we come back here next weekend?” she asks hopefully.
“Really?” I whisper.
She nods with a soft smile. “I love this old house.”
I smirk. If the truth be known, I’m kind of keen on it myself. “Maybe.”
She snuggles against my chest. I feel her relax in my arms, and after a while, the gentle pattern of her breathing notifies me that she’s drifted off to sleep. I inhale deeply into her hair and smile as I watch the fire.
This is it. I can stop searching.
I’ve found her.
Chapter 20
Jameson
I walk into the apartment right at seven to the delectable aroma of gourmet food cooking. I smile, drop my laptop bag, and make my way to the kitchen to find Emily dancing with her back to me as she cooks. I sta
nd at the doorway and watch her for a moment. She’s wearing a black skirt and a white shirt, her long dark hair is in a ponytail, and her naturally beautiful face is glowing.
A warm feeling of comfort runs through me at her obvious happiness.
All is right in my world when she’s here.
This is the weirdest thing I’ve ever experienced. I don’t want to be anywhere but here with her. From three o’clock every afternoon I start to watch the clock, waiting for the time I get to come home.
I watch as she picks up her wineglass and sips it; her burgundy lipstick marks the glass in a perfect lip shape, and I smile—even her lipstick on the glass does things to me.
I would never want to wash it again; I’m like a starstruck schoolboy.
Her behind moves sexily to the beat, and I watch her, transfixed by the beautiful woman in my kitchen. She turns and catches sight of me and smiles sexily. “Hello.”
She comes to me, and I wrap her in my arms.
“How’s my man?” she asks as she kisses me softly.
“Good now that I’m home.”
Our lips touch again and again, and I sit her up on the counter and stand between her legs as we kiss.
“Are we having an entrée before our meal, Mr. Miles?” she breathes against my lips.
I unzip my fly. “Looks like it.”
It’s Thursday and crazy around here. We are preparing reports for our board meetings tomorrow. It feels good to be back at it without the added pressure of all the other shit that’s been going on around here. Tristan and I are at my desk, discussing the new advertising budget we have set, when there’s a knock on my door.
“Come in,” I call. The door opens, and a familiar face comes into view. My face falls, and I stand immediately. “Claudia.”
Tristan’s eyes widen, and he looks to me as he stands. “Hi, Claud.” He rushes to her and kisses her on the cheek. “How are you?” he asks.
She forces a smile. “Good, thank you . . . and you?”
“Great.” Tristan’s eyes meet mine across the room. “I have some things to do. See you later, Claud.”
“Goodbye.” Her smile fades, and her nervous eyes come to me. “Hello, Jameson.”
“Hello.” I walk around and kiss her on the cheek; her familiar perfume permeates around me, and I frown at the memories it evokes. “How are you?” I ask.
She clutches her purse. “I’ve resigned from Vogue. I’m coming home to New York.”