Page 43 of Jameson’s Salvation

“Sure.” She smiled at him, happy to help.

“You know which office is mine?”

“Yeah, Jameson showed me.”

Kennedy had left the room but Jameson barely noticed. He was too lost in his own head.

“Don’t fuck this up and lock yourself away,” Weston snapped.

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. I saw it happen. She invited me home and you closed down.”

“I—”

“I know you, and I’ve never known you to be a liar. Don’t start being one now. I’m gonna tell it to you straight. I like her.” Jameson jerked at his friend’s admission. “She’s smart and funny and damn if she’s not hot as hell. I’d jump at the chance to make a play. Let me rephrase that, I would’ve made my play and she’d be in my bed right now and I wouldn’t be squandering the gift, if I hadn’t known you were interested. Don’t make me regret steppin’ aside by fucking this up because she used a phrase that freaks you out. You know what she meant when she said it and you’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

Jameson heard Weston’s words, but he’d stopped comprehending them after he’d heard that Weston would’ve made a move for Kennedy. It played into all of his insecurities. Weston was the better choice. The better man. But Jameson didn’t have it in him to step aside, Kennedy was his. He’d felt it the first day he’d seen her in front of her mom’s house. It was more than a spark of interest. It was more than her beauty. There had been a moment when Jameson saw the fire and determination in Kennedy’s eyes and he’d known right then if he didn’t run like a coward, she’d have the power to own him.

And he had been right.

“You’re reading me wrong,” Jameson growled and took a step toward one of his best friends. “I know what Kennedy meant. I just wasn’t prepared for how much I’d like hearing it.”

“Good.” Weston held his eyes and made no move to retreat from a very angry Jameson.

“Now, you wanna talk about why you’re thinking about being in my woman’s bed?”

“Not thinking about it. Said I would’ve made a play. But I didn’t. And you damn well know why I didn’t. Glad to see you pulled your head out of your ass because you deserve this.”

Before either man could say more, Kennedy came into the conference room holding a t-shirt. Her nose was scrunched and she handed Weston the bunched-up material.

“You need to wash that bag,” she told him. “This was the cleanest tee I could find.”

“Thanks.” Weston chuckled and pulled on his shirt. “And thanks for the offer to feed me, but I’m gonna head home, shower, and hit the sack. Another time?”

“Are you sure you don’t need help? We could go with you back to your place and get you settled.”

Kennedy was speaking in “we’s” and Jameson liked that, especially now having confirmation that at one time Weston had been interested in her.

“’Preciate your concern, but this isn’t the first time I’ve had a little scrape and I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

Jameson was happy Weston had donned the tee and was no longer standing in front of Kennedy bare-chested.

The two men shook hands, Weston thanked Jameson again for sewing him up, said his goodbyes to Kennedy, and left.

Kennedy and Jameson followed suit, locking up the office, and then heading home. He was surprised when on the way home, Kennedy hadn’t asked any questions about his job or commented on Weston’s wound. They were almost to her house when Jameson decided to broach the subject.

“You okay with what happened?”

“Which part? Weston getting hurt? No. Finding out that your job is more dangerous than I’d thought? No. Finding out you know how to stitch up a wound and you’re very proficient at it? No.”

“So breaking that down, you’re not okay with any of it.”

“Not right now, but I will be. I have no choice, but it will take me more than an hour to process it. Never seen someone get their arm sewn without some sort of anesthetic or painkiller. And I’ve never seen anyone but a doctor give stitches.”

Then Jameson did something he never thought he’d do in an effort to help Kennedy get past her fear.

“You can ask me anything you want.”