Chapter 172: Chapter Ten

Priscilla

I'd slept on the couch, so the hot shower did wonders for my sore muscles. I'd felt guilty sleeping on their bed or even in the guest room.

Everything was so white and pristine — I hated to ruin it with my presence. It just felt… wrong. And they were nice enough to let me stay.

Unfortunately, Jaymeson did have a point — curse him. I needed to put on some clothes. As it was, I was already going to have to call a taxi or walk back to my house so I could grab my car.

How did he know it was smoke, anyway?

I wrapped the towel around my body and grabbed my old PJ's and sniffed. Yeah, they reeked of smoke. No wonder. He probably couldn't stand the sight or smell of me. How great.

Shaking, I leaned against the sink and looked into the mirror.

Big brown eyes stared back at me. They looked afraid. I felt afraid. Honestly, Jaymeson freaked me out more than the fire. I was alone with him and he was… cooking. It just… it seemed weird.

He didn't strike me as the hero type, which meant that this was his way of apologizing or he was trying to get into my pants. Again.

I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. I could do this. I could put on clothes, walk out of the bathroom, and face him.

My entire reaction was stupid. On the outside it seemed like he didn't affect me, I did it on purpose because he was the type that looks for a chink in someone's armor.

Jaymeson appeared like a goofy player just out for a good time, but he was way too perceptive for his own good. If he saw weakness, even a brief weakness, he'd pounce.

I toweled off and quickly threw on the clothes, then finger-combed my hair. I searched a few drawers and finally found a hair tie so I could put the wet mess into a ponytail.

When I was finished I stared at the door for a good five seconds.

I'd always believed myself to be really calm and collected.

I think everyone assumes that when they meet a movie star or someone famous — that they won't lose their heads and go crazy, but it's hard.

It was impossible not to stare.

Believe me, I'd tried.

But he was beautiful. At around six-foot-three, he was the perfect mix of height and muscle.

His skin was bronzed but not too much, and he had the clearest green eyes I'd ever seen in my entire life.

His hair was usually on the longer side, constantly pushed behind his ears, but he'd cut it since I'd last seen him.

It was still long, but one side of his head was shaved, revealing a tattoo on his neck and a piercing in his ear that I hadn't noticed before.

He was just a guy — just another human being.

Just like me.

I pep-talked myself for another few minutes, then opened the door and waltzed into the kitchen.

The minute I saw him, I froze.

Scratch that.

He was nothing like me.

A pink apron that said, “Naked Chef,” was tied around his waist, and he was humming.

Holy crap! Jamie Jaymeson was in the kitchen, cooking me breakfast and humming. My mouth dropped open as he swayed his hips and then hummed something that sounded suspiciously like an AD2 song.

“Oh.” He turned around as he flipped a pancake into the air. “You're here.”

“Pancakes?” I pointed at the stove. “How the heck did you find pancakes?”

“I'm an explorer at heart.” He grinned. “I rummaged through cupboards, looking high and low, and when I was just about to give up… brilliance struck.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I went next door to my stocked pantry and pulled out what I needed.”

“Smart.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Probably to someone like you.” I smiled sweetly.

He winked. “Thanks, love.”

I froze.

Love? That's what Jamie Hudson called me.

“What?” Jaymeson flipped the pancake into the air again. “Don't tell me you have a gluten allergy.”

“No.” I shook my head. “It wasn't that. You know what? Never mind.” I reached for my phone and sent a quick message to Jamie.

Me

All is well, found some clothes. You around?

As soon as the message sent, Jaymeson dropped the skillet onto the stove, making the loudest bang of all time.

“Sorry.” He cursed and grabbed a plate. “It slipped.”

“It's okay.”

His face reddened a bit as he scooped up a pancake and put it on one of the plates, then shoved some syrup in my direction. “Be right back.”

He left me alone with the most amazing-looking golden pancakes. My mouth started watering as I poured the syrup over the yummy goodness. How did he even know how to cook?

My Facebook alert went off.

Jamie Hudson

Sorry, I was surfing.

Me

Rough life.

Jamie Hudson

Catch you on the next wave…

I smiled and set the phone onto the counter.

“Something amusing?” Jaymeson said, interrupting my girlish moment.

“Nothing you would understand.” I forked a large bite of pancake and stuffed it into my mouth.

He leaned his muscled arms against the counter and tilted his head. “Try me.”

“It's nothing,” I said, mouth full.

He grinned.

Holy crap, that grin alone made me feel hot all over.

“Stop smiling,” I snapped.

Jaymeson's smile only widened. “So, tell me about him.”

“How do you know it's a him?” I took another bite of pancake and chewed. Holy pancakes, what the crap did he put in those? Legal addicts? They were so good!

“The smile.” He sighed and piled five pancakes onto his own plate. “That smile screams crush.”

“I'm eighteen. I don't crush.”

“Age reminder, nice.” He winced.

“And how old are you again?” I twirled my fork into the air. “Twenty-three going on forty?”

“Eat your damn pancakes.” He hit my fork with his and dug in like he hadn't eaten in ten years.

“Uh, hungry?”

“Starved.” He barely took a breath as he devoured three pancakes in less than a few minutes.

I finished my last pancake only to get another one tossed onto my plate.

I glared.

“What?” He shrugged. “You're too skinny. And I know skinny. I live in the skinny capital of the world. You need to get fatter.”

“Tell me…” I stabbed the pancake imagining it was his face. “Does that line work on every girl?”

“Sweetheart, the girls I screw think laxatives are one of the five food groups.”

“Gross.”

He snorted and stuffed another pancake into his mouth.

“Eat,” he said between bites.

I cut another piece of pancake.

“Is he hotter than me?” Jaymeson asked.

I dropped my fork.

“So that's a no.” He gave me a smug smile.

“You have syrup on your face.” I pointed to his cheek.

“I know.” He scowled and rubbed his face. “And you lie.”

Shrugging, I answered, “Could have sworn I saw some.”

“So, he's ugly?” Jaymeson cleared his throat.

“Why are we talking right now?”

His grin seriously had the power to melt the clothes right off my body. “Aw, love, would you rather be doing something else?”

“Stop being creepy,” I said breathlessly.

“Is that why your pulse picked up?” He leaned in. “Because I'm creepy.”

“Fear,” I blurted. “Fear makes a person's heart race.”

“I don't doubt you're afraid.” He bit down hard onto his pancake and chewed, his tongue licking his full lips so slow it was almost hypnotic.

“Myself?”

Ignoring me, he checked his watch and cursed. “We gotta go.”

“We? Since when did we become a we?”

“Since I rescued your naked ass this morning.”

“I was not naked—”

“You looked like death.”

I blushed and looked down, nothing like having People's Sexiest Man Alive two years running telling you that you looked like death.

“Hey.” Suddenly he was in front of me; his fingertips grazed my chin, forcing me to look into his smoldering eyes. “I didn't mean you looked like death as in you're not beautiful.

“I meant you looked like you had a rough night. Trust me, you could get run over by a dump truck and I'd still think you were the most gorgeous thing I'd ever seen.”

I jerked away from his touch. “We should, uh, go.” I needed a reality check… fast. The church was waiting and so was my burnt house.

“Yeah.” He cursed. “We should.”