Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 61867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” Chad laughs. “My ears work.”
“Nah, I don’t think they do,” Jameson replies. “Or else you would have backed off when I told you to. So I’m gonna say it one more time. Back off. She doesn’t want you here.”
“Oh, and who are you? Her personal bodyguard?”
Jameson nods. “As far as you’re concerned, yeah.”
“And it doesn’t bother you that there are three of us and one of you?”
“Not one bit,” Jameson responds instantly. “Now get the hell out of here before you make yourself look stupid in front of your boyfriends here.”
Oh, Jesus.
I’m taken back instantly to the time when I was sixteen and Jameson defended me against Nick and Marcus, a couple of pricks who were ‘hitting on me’ at the bowling alley because of some dare between them and their friends.
Jameson and I were just out on one of our nights we would take now and then to get out and have fun, and when he went to the bathroom, these two idiots came over and started slinging these horrible pickup lines at me. I doubt they thought any of them would work really. It was just a contest between the two of them or some kind of joke to impress the rest of their buddies. But for the life of me, I could not get them to go away.
But when Jameson came back and saw what was going on, he stood up to those two goofballs like he was Bruce Willis, and thirty-seconds later, they were crawling back to the other side of the alley to get the rest of their friends. In fact, they were so scared of Jameson that they left the alley completely.
I joked about it with him for weeks after—telling him just how big and strong and tough he was and all that. He would always just shake his head and laugh. But we were much younger then, and those guys were just kids.
This is Chad, and the men he has with him now look legitimately sketchy. And the last thing I want is for Jameson to get himself into any sort of trouble on my behalf. Especially seeing as how we just reunited last night.
“Guys, let’s just cool down, okay?” I say, taking Jameson’s right hand into mine. But just then, Tanya comes in from the kitchen with one of the cooks, a big guy who she clearly told about what was going on out front. He doesn’t look happy either.
“Problem, boy?” he asks.
Chad glances over his shoulder and then back to Jameson. “No. No problem,” he replies, stepping away from us. He heads for the door and shoves it open. “We were just leaving.”
He and his friends vanish outside, and I pull Jameson back into the booth so we can sit down again. I can feel how tense he still is from the encounter, but I manage to use my palm against his cheek to get him to look at me with his full attention.
“You really shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why not?” he asks. “You think I’m gonna let that guy anywhere near you, Iris?”
I’m melting inside. Having Jameson anywhere near me feels like I’m completely invincible. It’s like having Superman by my side.
“Chad is just…well, he’s a prick, Jameson. There’s no telling what he might do. And those guys he was with? They looked super sketchy.”
Jameson just smiles and rubs my hand in his. “What, and you’re saying that I can’t handle them?”
“No!” I reply quickly. “I’m not saying that at all, I just—I would never want you to get into any trouble because of me.”
“Don’t worry, babe.” Jameson winks sarcastically, putting on some kind of Humphrey Bogart voice or something. “Your knight in shining armor is here to protect you. And don’t you worry about me.”
I know he’s being over the top and just messing around, but he still makes me melt even more inside, and I feel my cheeks get hot and I know I’m blushing. “Okay, my handsome knight.”
“Now come on.” He smiles. “Let’s finish breakfast.”
Chapter 9
Iris
It feels so good to just eat with Jameson—just to sit across from each other and enjoy a meal from Becky’s Diner like it was three years ago and nothing else has happened. After all, the food hasn’t changed, so it’s pretty easy to just slip into a food-nostalgia coma as I fork the last bit of syrup-soaked buttermilk pancake into my mouth and wash it down with the last of my ice water.
Jameson has already finished his meal, like he always would before me, and is just staring at me, watching me eat like he has been for the last few minutes.
And I’m fine with that. In fact, I kind of like it. It’s like I’m performing for him. Putting on a cute little act like I did last night, but without all the taking off my clothes and all that, which wouldn’t exactly be appropriate for the diner.