Page 22 of Tactically Tied

Now standing in the Winchester living room, that same sweet, smoky smell still seemed to linger in the air, like a memory that had seeped into the walls over the years. It was faint but unmistakable, and it transported her back to those childhood nights when she would walk past the Winchester house, pretending not to notice the delicious scent that tempted her at every turn.

Jami’s gaze moved to the mantel, where a series of family photos were lined up in neat rows. Three generations of Winchesters stared back at her. Jed the elder, with his gray hair and a mischievous grin that reminded her of the stories her grandfather used to tell. Jed the second, with his uncompromising glare, the kind of man who could silence a room with just a look. And then there was her Jed—no, not her Jed, she corrected herself—this Jed, the one who was a blend of both the men before him. There was mischief in his eyes but a seriousness underneath that she was beginning to understand.

Now here she was, in the house she had once been forbidden to step into, finally seeing it for herself. Jed's home was just as organized and precise as he was. Everything had its place, from the neatly stacked books on the shelves to the perfectly aligned cushions on the couch. There wasn’t a speck of dust in sight. Even the framed photos on the walls were perfectly spaced, as if measured with a ruler.

The living room was uncompromising in its tidiness—a reflection of the man who ran his kitchen with military precision. It made sense, she supposed, with a father who was a drill sergeant and a restaurant where every dish had to meet his high standards. Jed Winchester didn’t do chaos, and his house was no exception. The coffee table was spotless, not a single fingerprint smudge on its surface. There was even a neat stack of coasters, though it didn’t look like they ever got much use.

Everything felt deliberate, controlled, as if nothing was left to chance. The curtains hung perfectly straight, no wrinkles or uneven hems. The hardwood floors gleamed, freshly polished. It was almost too perfect, like a magazine spread brought to life. It was all camera ready. Like Jed.

Jami pressed her fingertips to her lips. She could still feel the touch of his mouth against hers. The man had kissed her with precision. He didn't miss a single millimeter of her mouth.

He had been meticulous in the kiss, just like he was in his kitchen. It reminded her of their time back in Home Ec class. He had always been orderly, where her station had looked like a bomb exploded. But her flavors were always excellent. Jed had been a neat freak but still able to get the same result.

She'd seen him eying the mess she was making back in high school and even today. She might have been a bit more disorderly today to mess with him. She liked getting under his skin. But he'd gotten the better of her today.

Her gaze drifted to a photo of Jed in his military uniform. Each of the Winchester men had served. It was practically a family tradition. She knew that Jed had enlisted right after high school. During his service, he'd spent years traveling, picking up culinary skills in Korea and Japan. It was where he learned to infuse his family’s recipes with unexpected flavors.

The floor creaked softly, and she felt Jed's presence behind her. He was too close, his warmth making the space feel smaller, more intimate. She didn’t turn around, didn’t acknowledge him, but the air between them grew thick with unspoken words.

“The cameras aren’t here,” she said quietly, her voice trying to sound indifferent. “We don’t have to pretend to like each other.”

“Who’s pretending?” Jed’s breath was warm against the back of her neck. “I’ve never disliked you, Jami.”

She stiffened, taking a step away from him, needing to put some distance between them before she lost herself in whatever game he was playing. She moved farther into the house. She turned to face him. He hadn't come closer, but he watched her silently as she wandered through the living room.

The remnants of their families' long-standing rivalry hung between them like a shadow. For years, the Winchesters and the Chous had competed fiercely in neighborhood barbecues and cookouts, each trying to outdo the other for the title of town favorite cook. Jami realized she had no clue who was the reigning favorite since both of their grandfathers' passing. Their parents and her generation had kept the distance, but neither side had seen fit to grab for the title.

“I’ll sneak out after dark and head back to Jacqui’s. It’s just around the block.”

Jed’s eyes darkened, a growl rumbling from his throat. “No, you won’t.”

It was a command. It was the drill sergeant in him. But she wasn't his soldier.

“Excuse me?”

He took a step closer, his gaze holding hers with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. “We’re married,” he said, his voice rough. “And this is a town full of nosy neighbors. If someone sees you leave, they will talk.”

He was right about that. There was someone always up and looking out the window at all hours of the night and day. And with the cameras present, the gossip mill had someone new to talk to.

“Fine. But I’m not sleeping in your bedroom.”

"Yes, you will." A grin tugged at the corner of Jed's mouth, the same mischievous grin she had seen on his grandfather in those old photographs. “I’ve made up a room for you. It’s my old bedroom.”

Jami opened her mouth to argue, but Jed was already moving past her, heading toward the kitchen.

“I made dinner,” he called over his shoulder.

“I’m not hungry,” she lied, her stomach betraying her with a soft growl. She hadn’t eaten much today, too consumed by the whirlwind of events and emotions to think about food.

Jed paused at the entrance to the kitchen, turning to look at her with a mixture of amusement and concern. “You need to eat, Jami. You barely had anything today.”

He walked into the kitchen, leaving her no choice but to follow. The kitchen was warm, the air thick with the rich, smoky scent of barbecue. He guided her to the island and gently pressed her into a seat. She watched as he moved with precision, placing a plate of barbecue chicken and greens in front of her.

She stared at the dish, then at him, arching a brow. “Really?” she said dryly. “You still can’t get over that review, can you?”

Jed’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer. He just pushed the plate toward her, his eyes daring her to taste it. Jami rolled her eyes but picked up a fork. She took a bite. The chicken fell off the bone and into her mouth. The sauce burst with layers of flavor on her tongue. It was smoky and sweet, with a hint of spice that danced all the way down her throat. She closed her eyes, letting the taste wash over her, losing herself in it for a moment.

When she opened her eyes, she found Jed staring at her, his gaze dark and hungry. Her heart skipped a beat, and her mouth went dry.

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