Risky Business

“Someone once told me to gamble on her, and I did. So far, it’s been a damn good risk.” It’s more than an acceptance of her apology. It’s an admission that despite my initial reaction, maybe she did the right thing by me.

I feel Jayme smile against my shoulder. “She sounds like a smart cookie.”

She’s quiet for a moment and then suddenly sits upright. “Cookies! We should sell cookies tomorrow. How did I not think of that sooner? Shit.”

She stands up, leaning into the metal railing. “Hey, James? Can we come down now?”

“Sure thing, Jayme!” comes the quick response, making me wonder how much James could hear of the louder portions of our argument. The cart jolts back into movement, and Jayme stumbles a little, but I’m right here to steady her this time.

“Do you think we could get cookies by tomorrow morning?” she mutters, her mind working behind her eyes. “Something fun like iced ones with sprinkles? Or Dunkaroos? Oh! I know! Rainbow swirl ones!”

Her rambling spiel turns to delight with the idea. I can’t help but grin at her excitement, but realistically, there’s no way.

“Will you go for a ride with me tonight?” I ask.

She stops in the middle of a list of possible bakeries that would pull an all-nighter for a custom order. “What?”

I cup her face in my hands, my nose mere inches from her. “We’ve done everything we can. The team has done everything they can. We’re ready, the park is ready. Let’s go for a night ride, take a minute to relax and breathe so we can tackle tomorrow together.”

I can feel her energy centering as I speak slowly and hypnotically. She starts to speak, and I can feel her need to argue. She’s as much a perfectionist as I am, and she wants to spend this last evening going over every list, every possible thing that could go wrong to either prevent it or pre-plan a solution.

I press a hard kiss to her lips, prying my way into her mouth to taste her deeply. Every stroke of my tongue against hers is a counter argument.

We’re ready. The festival is going to be great.

I need you. I want tonight to just be us.

I feel the moment she falls into me, under my spell. Mid-kiss, she murmurs her agreement.

And just in time because James opens the door. “Oh! Uh, sorry . . . you said . . .” he stutters.

“All good, man. Thanks for the ride.”

Holding Jayme’s hand, I help her to the platform. She pins James with a look. “Remember our deal?”

“I didn’t see nothing, hear nothing, and don’t know nothing,” he quotes.

“Good man,” she praises him with a wink. “I’ll have your tickets at the front gate in the morning.”

Fuck, she’s slick as hell and thinks of everything, and that is so damn sexy.

CHAPTER 18

CARSON

After a quick stop in my office to grab my helmet, I rush us downstairs.

“Have a good night, you two,” Ellie calls out as we scurry through the lobby. I toss a conspiratorial smile her way, and she makes a lip-zipping motion.

I’m sure Jayme would prefer to stay here, working on preparations for tomorrow and obsessing over every little detail until her eyeballs burn and she’s pulled every blonde strand from her head in stress. But we’ve done what we can and I trust my team. I’ll still text Spencer to check in before crashing tonight, but for now, we can leave guilt-free.

I slip the helmet onto her head, memorizing her hopeful smile as it disappears beneath the face shield. I climb onto the motorcycle and hold it steady while Jayme climbs on behind me. I’m glad that she’s wearing slim-fit slacks today, though the sand burns on her knees are long healed.

“Ready?” I ask, looking over my shoulder.

She nods, the helmet bobbing on her head slightly. I remind myself that I need to get a helmet for her, not only because of helmet laws but because her head is so much smaller than mine.

I start the motorcycle, the roar breaking the quiet of the night, and once I feel her arms wrap around me tightly, I pull off. The parking lot gives way to the road, and I accelerate into the night, free for the time being. The wind whipping past us washes away any last bits of worry about the festival.

It’s the two of us. Not Jayme, the fixer, and Carson, the fuck-up. I’m not Carson, the amusement park heir, either. She doesn’t care about any of that. She just cares about me, enough to risk this thing growing between us in an effort to improve my relationship with my dad and make my future better.

She sees things in me that I don’t, but I see her too. Her generosity and kindness, even when they’re packaged in hard words and tough to acknowledge, spot-on observations.