Chapter Twelve
He fucked me pretty hard after he admitted what he felt about me.
I loved every minute of it. I can’t wait to tell him I’m in love with him in return, but I want to do it in a special way. I won’t make him wait long… maybe just a few hours. I left Jamie so he could nap. Poor guy was super exhausted from all the flying he’s done, and I’m now in the kitchen making eggs for myself.
I’m not surprised when Colt then Kerri join me within minutes of me at the stove. I’m sure the smell of the greasy eggs woke them up. Kerri eyes what I’m making with great interest.
“I need those,” she commands in a rather regal way. It’s impressive.
“I think you were totally a queen in another life,” I say as I push cooked eggs onto a plate and hand it to her.
She looks at me and cocks an arrogant brow.
“God forbid she was some poor beggar on the street.” Colt shakes his head in amusement. “Let me guess, you think she was Cleopatra?”
Kerri gives him a look that basically says if the shoe fits… She puts a giant forkful of eggs in her mouth.
“What about me?” Colt grumbles, then picks up a fork and takes a bite from her plate.
“I’m making more,” I promise him. “But you definitely don’t give off the queen vibe.”
Kerri thinks my comment is hilarious. Colt flicks her head with his finger, then stands and makes his way to the fridge. He grabs a bottle of fresh orange juice and helps himself to a glass.
“What are you doing here anyway?” Kerri asks in annoyance. “No one asked you to sleep in the third room.”
“I couldn’t safely make it back to the house after bringing you guys here,” Colt admits with chagrin. “Probably shouldn’t have carted you two either.”
“Probably not.” It’s only funny because we’re okay.
“Christ.” Colt runs his hand through his thick hair. “My head is killing me.”
“Morning.” Jamie’s sleepy and raspy voice echoes through kitchen. We all turn to see Mr. Fucking Donovan, bare-chested and barefoot, wearing only a pair of black cotton sweats and looking ruggedly delicious—basically good enough to eat—hot, and holy hell handsome.
Why did I leave him in bed all alone?
And he thinks he must be in love with me.
I could scream.
On the inside, I do a backflip, then run around and do a happy dance. I then astral-project myself to Jamie and French-kiss him. It’s hot.
Kerri waves. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Don’t worry. I didn’t crawl over the fence,” Jamie smirks at her.
“Crawl over the fence?” Colt’s voice is cold. “Our security would have had you in handcuffs in less than two minutes.”
Jamie cocks his head to the side and smiles.
“Well then, it’s a good thing your security team loves my movies because they had no problem letting me in.” Jamie’s smile is smug when he says, “They even asked for autographs.”
Colt looks like he wants to kill him, then fire the entire Harrington staff. Kerri claps her hands in delight and laughs in amusement. I have to hand it to Jamie. He definitely knows how to get the upper hand.
“Eggs, baby?” I ask him in a soft voice.
“Yes.” He looks unsure.
“What?” I question.
“Do you really know how to cook?”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask me that question,” I say.
“Her eggs are the bomb,” Kerri says loyally as she shoves another forkful of eggs in her mouth. “Colt, get us some toast, and Wyld, I swear there’s pancake mix in the cabinet. Let’s do it.”
“Pancake mix?” Jamie looks at her in horror.
“What?” Kerri shrugs. “So good.”
“Hell. No.” Jamie looks at her like she’s crazy and makes his way into the kitchen.
“I don’t think so.” I shake my head. “I’m cooking today. You get to relax.”
“I’m not eating pancakes out of a box,” Jamie sounds like the snob he is.
“I second that,” Colt says, reluctantly agreeing.
“And nobody will,” I say. “Just enjoy yourselves and relax. Maybe someone can make a hangover smoothie.”
“I call that a Bloody Mary,” Kerri says.
“Whatever name you want to give it.” I smile. “You should make some.”
“I was going to give our livers a break, but why not?” Kerri stands. “Jamie’s here to stay, and we should welcome him the Harrington way.”
I laugh. “Kind of my way too.”
“I’m not going to stay here for the weekend.” Jamie seems surprised we’d both even think that would be the case. “I’m going to go home, to my house, but I’m definitely in for a Bloody Mary and maybe lunch after breakfast.”
I’m devastated he’s not going to stay, but I understand why he’d feel weird crashing in my friend’s guesthouse.
“That’s too bad,” Kerri says and looks at me. “Does that mean you’re taking Wylder with you?”
I look at Jamie with wide eyes. I sure hope he is, and I really hope Kerri won’t mind.
“I planned on it.” His voice is possessive. “Unless you guys have some Black Friday sale you have to go to.”
“I’d rather light myself on fire.” The words come right out of my mouth. My mom and dad used to make me tag along to those sales because it was the only time we could really afford anything. I still have nightmares from those days.
“I second that,” Kerri says.
“Speaking of the holiday weekend,” Jamie says as he holds up his phone. “Looks like Duff is projected to be the box office surprise hit.”
I totally forgot about our bet.
“No. Way.” I shake my head and start cracking more eggs. “Kerri, will you check?”
“Even though I find it grossly offensive you don’t trust me, I’ll let you have it.” Jamie smiles sweetly.
Kerri does as I ask, and sure enough, Jamie’s eerily right.
“Get ready to pay up.” Jamie’s smile is wolfish.
“You placed a bet on this?” Kerri shakes her head at me in disappointment. “You never go up against a real director, especially considering you’re still an amateur.”
I hate to hear it, but she’s right.
“There are still three days left.” There’s no way I’m going to win. I’m only saying it to save face.
“Nice try.” Jamie scoffs, then turns around and goes on a search for the television remote. Once he finds it, he expertly flips through channels until he’s on college football. He lifts his arms in excitement.
I wish I could be annoyed by it, but it’s kind of cute. He looks so happy. He falls back on one of the couches and looks so content and comfortable, like there’s no way he’s going to move for the rest of the day.
Colt looks at the screen and perks up. He makes his way to the family room and takes the couch opposite Jamie. It appears we are serving them today.
“He’s so sleeping over tonight.” Kerri rolls her eyes as she takes in the scene. “Jamie’s jet-lagged. He’s about to get drunk and heavy with food, and he’s sitting in front of football. We’ll be lucky if you can get him to move at all, and I know you’re going to want him to move some for you.”
I should blush, but I don’t. Because she’s right.
“Bring me food, woman,” Jamie orders from the couch, his eyes glued to the screen.
I roll my eyes. “Lucky me,” I whisper to Kerri.
“You love it.” Her grin is knowing. I wish I could deny it.
I look at my dream lover, and I guess she’s right. I kind of do love it. I want to take care of Jamie and make him feel good, give something back and reciprocate as much as I can. He’s been so good to me.
I just want to be good to him.
––––––––––
As Kerri predicted, Jamie spent the night.
He’d barely moved from the couch the entire day. Colt stayed over for a long while too. After they got over their initial animosity and actually started talking, they realized they had a lot in common. I think they secretly enjoyed each other’s company, and it didn’t hurt they were rooting for the same team.
It was the first night we didn’t fool around. Jamie was dead tired, and we just fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms. The day had passed quickly, and I didn’t have a moment or really the inclination to tell him how I felt about him. Jamie didn’t open up again or profess any love. He kind of just let it be, so I did too.
I realized there was no rush. Everything would just happen like it should.
Jamie and I decide to leave for his place early in the morning. Kerri is still passed out, so I leave her a note and send a text message telling her I’ll see her on Monday at work. I know Jamie probably won’t let me go home on Sunday, so I won’t even bother pretending I might show up.
We walk outside to his navy-blue Range Rover. He opens the door for me, and I hop in and strap my seat belt. I really love that the car isn’t decked out or bling-bling; it’s simple and classy. And super cool, like him.
He turns to me with a boyish smile. “So I have an idea.” His mood is infectious.
“What’s that?”
“Let’s go buy a Christmas tree,” Jamie says to my utter happiness.
Growing up, we never had a Christmas tree—or at least a real one. We had the same bent-out-of-shape, fake-ass tree every single year of my life at home. My mom had bought it for practically nothing at some garage sale. I’ve never even been to a Christmas tree lot. How sad is that?
“I’m one hundred percent in.” I know I sound overly enthusiastic, but I can’t help it. “Do you have ornaments?”
“Of course I do,” he says like he can’t believe I’d even doubt it. “My family takes Christmas very seriously. Gifts, holiday cheer, and mistletoe… We go to the extreme. It’s a serious production. If there was a reality competition titled Extreme Christmas, we’d be the winners.”
“So are you going to be building a winter wonderland in your house?” I ask with a laugh.
“I don’t go that far, but Kathleen follows my mom’s lead and makes sure the house is done right,” he says. “I’m sure she already has people fixing the home up. Probably started as soon as I left town.”
“Does she know you’re back?” I ask.
“No.” Jamie shakes his head. “I’ll have to send her a text. I know it’ll shock the shit out of her. I’ve never come home from my parent’s holiday festivities early. It’s my favorite time of the year.”
“You sound like a little boy.” I laugh, shaking my head at him.
“It’s the best.” Jamie’s so excited. “Let’s do this.”
Forty-five minutes later, we’re pulling into a Christmas tree lot, and instead of feeling as thrilled as I did before we arrived, I suddenly get sad when I look at all the cut little trees. Shit. Makes me think of Tom, Dick, and Harry. Jamie takes in my depressed look as we walk around the lot, and he sighs.
“You’re thinking about the kids, aren’t you?” he asks knowingly.
“Well, yeah. I can’t help it.”
“Listen, they’re already chopped down,” he says, stating the obvious. “We might as well put them to good, festive use and enjoy every minute of them. Then we can recycle and use them for something else, so it’s not a waste.”
I lean up onto the balls of my feet and give him a soft kiss on the lips. “You are seriously the best,” I say to him, and I mean it. I wanted to say I love you, but something stopped me from going there.
“I know.” Jamie sighs and wraps his arms around my waist.
I lean into him and hug him back. We both just take in the moment, and it’s the best—
I feel Jamie’s body tense up against mine and hear him curse.
“Fucking paps.” He sounds disgruntled.
“Oh, no.” I look for a place to duck and hide. I don’t want my picture anywhere. It’s the last thing I need.
“Too late.” He looks really irritated for a second then shrugs like he gives up, then puts his finger on the bridge of my nose and says, “What are we going to do now? It’s too late. Let’s just pick out our trees and wait for the fake article to come out saying how we’re planning our wedding.”
I stare at him in horror.
“You look like someone said you’re related to Hitler.” Jamie looks offended.
“No!” I say quickly, trying to placate him. “It’s not that. I just—that kind of article… It just sounds really aggressive.”
“Get used to it,” Jamie states. “That’s what happens. New picture. New story. New outrageous headline. Ninety percent of the time, it’s all wrong.”
“Ninety?” I ask.
“Well, sometimes they are eerily right.” Jamie smiles. He doesn’t look bothered or even worried. “Don’t think about it. You’ll eventually get used to it or maybe not. But it’s how it is. Let’s just get our trees.”
Easier said than done, but I guess I really don’t have any other choice.
“Trees?” I ask, then interlace our fingers.
“We need a few,” he says sheepishly. “One in the bedroom, one in my office, and of course there has to be one in the family room.”
“You don’t think that’s a tad bit excessive?” I look at him with what I know is a goofy-ass smile. I hope no one takes my picture looking like this. Now that’ll be really embarrassing.
“Maybe,” he says in agreement. “But it’s our first Christmas together. We gotta go all out.”
I’ll take it.
We go back and forth for a long while, but we finally come to an agreement on our trees, and Jamie pays the owner to have someone deliver them for us in the afternoon. Jamie places an order at Nobu, and we swing by and pick up the sushi for lunch before heading to his house. By the time we get there, the guys with the trees have arrived, and for the next hour, it’s a complete production while we figure out where to place each of them. Jamie pays the men to help us grab some of the ornament boxes from the garage.
Jamie wasn’t lying. Kathleen already did start decorating for Christmas. The house looks super festive with reindeers, wreaths, and pine garlands placed all around. It makes you happy just being around it. Once the guys are gone, Jamie and I settle in the family room with sushi and hot tea and a bottle of red. He puts on Christmas music, and because it’s totally overcast and cold in Malibu, it actually kind of feels like Christmas. It’s super cozy and romantic.
The fireplace is going, and we’re decorating as we go. We both changed into comfy clothes. I’m wearing one of his sweatshirts and nothing else, with my hair in a ponytail, and he’s in sweat pants. We already snuck in a quickie when the guys were downstairs in the family room setting up the Christmas tree. It felt illicit and naughty… a.k.a. super hot.
I place colorful ornaments on the tree while Jamie sits back on the couch and watches me. I’ve never been more content in my life, and that’s not a lie or an exaggeration. It’s the truth.
The truth is kind of scary.
“So when are you going to tell me,” Jamie asks after a moment, his voice soft.
I know what he’s asking about. “You’re not guaranteed a weekend winner yet—”
“Come on, Wyld.” Jamie is serious. “It’s not about winning or losing. It’s about you telling me something about yourself. Something substantial. About where you came from.”
My gaze meets his, and it takes my breath away. There is such a fevered intensity blazing from his eyes. It makes my heart stop.
“I’m in love with you.” He says it a lot easier this time. “I’ve never said that to a woman before.”
I can’t describe how his words make me feel—except for maybe “whole.” I feel whole. This time when he says the words, it doesn’t look like he’s being poisoned. Or about to have a missile dropped on his head.
“I want to know everything about you.” Jamie’s eyes darken as they sweep over my body. “Even the parts you think in your whack-ass head might make me think less of you—”
I break his gaze and turn back toward the tree and busy myself with hanging the ornaments.
“It doesn’t sound like we had the same type of childhood,” I say in a small voice.
“I gathered as much.” He gives me an innocent look. “I’m just stating the obvious.”
I actually appreciate his attitude because it lightens the mood and makes it a lot easier for me to talk.
“My dad has cheated on my mom since the moment I opened my eyes.” My voice is soft. I’ll tell him my sad story, but I can’t bring myself to actually look at him while I do it. I continue picking up ornaments and placing them on the tree.
As I relive my past, I begin to see some of the scenes—that are branded in me for life—play out before me.
“My mom was a mess,” I say. “Always some varying degree of a mess. She was always crying. Always sad. Always talking about my dad and his whores. It almost feels like from the time I could speak, she was telling me about it.”
I’m sure my voice sounds bitter.
“Let’s just say my mom had no filter and left no detail out.” I want to clarify the extent of the type of abuse I endured. “I would ask her not to tell me, not to show me pictures she’d take when she would follow him around. I would beg her to leave him and she’d make up an excuse. There was always some reason or another.”
I stare at one of the metallic ornaments.
“Now she pretends like she doesn’t hear me,” I say. “And then suddenly and for no real explicable reason why, it’ll change.”
I look at him and give him a wobbly smile, trying my hardest not to cry.
“My dad will come back to her,” I explain. The sympathy in Jamie’s eyes is nearly my undoing. “He’ll beg her for forgiveness, and she’ll take him back, and it’ll be like nothing ever happened. The way she’ll dote over him and stare at him is like she’ll die without him. Those were the times I didn’t even exist. She’d barely even look at me when it was good with him.”
Jamie’s expression is a mixture of sadness and anger, and I know he feels sorry for me. I hate that he does, but I can feel it. I don’t feel sorry for myself anymore. I used to. Now it’s almost a badge of honor, like nothing can break me…
Except for maybe Jamie Donovan.