Playing with Fire (Hometown Heat 3)

“We were having fun,” I say. “We are, I just—”

“And not just in bed,” he cuts in. “I look forward to spending time with you, Maddie, no matter what we do. Even that time we played Scrabble was fun and I hate board games. Like, really hate them.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, before continuing in a softer voice, “And until this morning, we seemed to be on the same page. So you’ll have to forgive me for being surprised that me falling in love with you is suddenly freaking you out.”

My jaw drops and a wave of emotion sweeps over me, a wave so big and sudden and fierce it’s hard to tell exactly what I’m feeling, only that I’m feeling so much of it that the backs of my eyes start to sting.

“That’s right, I said the ‘L’ word,” Jamison pushes on with a hard swallow. “And I meant it, and I don’t regret saying it because I thought…”

“You thought what?” I force the words out past the tightness gripping my throat.

He shrugs. “I thought you were feeling it, too.”

“I am feeling it, too,” I say in a rush, the words releasing the hard knot in the center of my chest.

Suddenly, it’s so damned clear. I wasn’t afraid of Jamison falling in love with me. I was afraid of how hard and fast I’m falling for him.

He means so much to me already. The moments I share with him have quickly become my favorites of the day. The thought of letting him go in two or three weeks, or even two or three months, is unthinkable.

In just a week, I’ve grown more addicted to the way Jamison makes me feel—in bed and out of it—than I felt after years with Serge.

It’s a sobering and terrifying realization, one that leaves me tied up in knots.

“But I’m scared,” I confess, tears rising in my eyes when he cups my cheek in his hand.

“Why?” His expression is pained, as if the sight of me hurting is enough to make him hurt, too.

“Because in some ways, I know you so well, but in others I don’t know you at all.” I suck in a breath, blinking hard enough to send a tear rolling down my cheek. “And I want to trust that you’re falling for me and everything is as great as it seems to be. But the last time I did that, the man I loved lied to me and deceived me for years and then left me for someone else.”

“That was his mistake, Maddie,” he says, tenderly rubbing the tear into my skin. “He was obviously very confused, but that had nothing to do with you.”

“I’m not so sure,” I whisper, shame and embarrassment swarming inside me. “Maybe he picked me on purpose because he could tell I was too stupid to know what real love felt like. Or real passion, anyway.”

Jamison brings his other hand to my face, urging my chin up until I lift my gaze to his. “You are not stupid, and you’re the most passionate woman I’ve ever met. You are smart and sweet and beautiful and funny, Mad, and I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be than with you.”

I swallow. “I want to believe you. So much.”

“Then believe me,” he says, as if it’s that easy. “I’ve loved you since I was a kid. Sure, it was a different kind of love back then, but a part of me always knew you were special.”

“Is that why you put a slug down my dress instead of Naomi’s when you played Evil Lord Underpants?” I ask, my sniff becoming a laugh when he blushes.

“I can’t believe you remember that.”

“I can’t believe you’re blushing,” I say, grinning. “Or that you used to run around with tighty-whities on your head.”

“Okay, enough of memory lane,” he says, rolling his eyes.

I grin harder. “And now you’re blushing more. Your cheeks are bright red.”

“I’m sorry about the slug,” he says, lifting his hands in surrender.

“Forgiven.”

“Really?” he asks, his brows lifting. “That easy?”

“Well, you’ve done a lot of very nice things to my body since then. The good absolutely outweighs the gross.”

“Glad to hear it.” His hands rest on my shoulders for a beat before skimming down my arms until my hands are engulfed in his much larger ones. “Can we start this day over? Go back to having fun again?”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to start this day over. I’m glad we talked.”

“Me too.” He squeezes my hands.

“Let’s start from right here. We’ll keep being honest with each other, and I’ll do my best to stop being scared. I don’t want to ruin this.”

“You’re not going to ruin it,” he assures me. “I won’t let you. I’ll keep hanging out, leaving whiskey shots on your landing until you come around.”