Page 44 of Séance

Realizing that I’m petting him, I jerk my hands away in mortification. I’m fighting a blush, looking anywhere but at him, when a noise in the hallway catches my attention. I leap away from him, then run my hands down my shirt as if we were caught doing something illicit.

“Hey, cupcake.” Jameson saunters toward me, a twinkle in his eyes and an armful of bags. “Have you been getting into mischief without me?”

He drops the bags on the counter, never once taking his eyes away from mine, and the contents spill everywhere. I lunge forward and catch a can that slowly rolls off the counter, grateful for the distraction. When I bounce back up, Jameson is standing before me, his grin softening as he runs a single finger down my heated cheek. “Flustered is a beautiful look on you.”

He plucks the can out of my hand, sets it on the counter, and begins whistling as he scavenges through the bags. I’m staring at him in bemusement when Ellis gives me a small smile and shrugs.

When they both begin sorting through the items and putting them away, I follow their lead. Since I don’t know where anything goes, I just end up piling everything on the counter. “It looks like we robbed a grocery store,” I muse, frowning down at some of the items I don’t remember putting in the cart. “Were these on the list?”

I hold up…Slim Jims?

What are Slim Jims?

Gunner grunts when he enters the kitchen, loaded down with even more bags than Jameson, if that’s possible. He lowers them to the floor, the bags sagging under the weight, and my eyes widen in surprise at how much he managed to carry in one trip.

His eyes latch on Jameson, and a fierce scowl darkens his face. “What is all this shit? We only left you alone for fifteen minutes. How did you manage to buy all this crap, much less fit it in the car?”

“I think I know how,” Ellis says, lifting up a loaf of bread…or what used to be a loaf of bread. Now it’s as thin as a pancake.

Completely unrepentant, Jameson just flaps a hand and continues to rummage around in the bags. “Why don’t you let me put the stuff away while you start your cooking lessons?”

Gunner immediately looks over at me, his expression softening. “I can do that.”

Over the next hour, Gunner teaches me step-by-step instructions on how to cook, what type of pans are used for what, and temperatures needed for different types of meat. After another ten minutes of walking around the kitchen and putting things in order, he finally takes out the ingredients. His expression is so earnest that I secretly find him adorable and don’t mind the lecture.

I’ve been assigned to cut vegetables while he continues with his teachings. When he opens the oven, I lean back and blink furiously when a wall of blistering heat rolls out. Gunner immediately sweeps his arm around my waist and tugs me out of the danger zone, and I instinctively lean into the comfort of his chest.

After making sure that I’m a safe distance away, he places the food in the oven, then continues to show me how to wash all the dishes we just dirtied while I dry.

“That was fun.” I slowly fold my towel, reluctant for our afternoon to be over. “I didn’t realize cooking could be so therapeutic.”

Gunner grabs the towel from me and sets it on the counter, a pleased smile on his face. “I think it’s the simplicity of following step-by-step instructions. It allows your mind to wander just enough that you can forget your worries for a moment. It’s the same with fixing cars—taking something apart, figuring out the problem, then fixing it before putting it back together again.”

I mimic him and lean back against the counter. “It’s satisfying.”

“Exactly!” His smile is brilliant, and my eyes widen when a set of dimples appear in his cheeks.

I don’t blink or breathe, completely unaware that I’m staring at him so intently. Who knew having dimples would cause such havoc? My stomach swoops, a sensation I thought people only wrote about in romance novels to con unsuspecting women into buying their books, and I’m not sure that I like it.

Desperate for a distraction, I scramble for something to say.

“You have dimples,” I blurt out, then I want to palm my face for stating the obvious.

Before either of us can answer, Jameson laughs and throws an arm around Gunner’s shoulders. “So you do have a weakness! Dimples and muscles.” He winks at me, inviting me to laugh with him. “For future reference, when you get mad at us, we’ll send in a half naked Gunner to make you forget why you were upset in the first place.”

I’m not sure who is blushing more—me or Gunner.

His eyes soften when he looks down at me, and my insides turn gooey again, then he turns and scowls down at his friend, speaking very slowly through clenched teeth. “I’m going to enjoy hurting you.”

“You’re welcome to try…if you can catch me.” Completely unperturbed, Jameson slaps him on the back, then quickly dances away. When he’s a safe distance away, Jameson lifts his hand in the air, revealing a set of car keys dangling from his fingertips. The metal jingles tauntingly when he shakes them at Gunner. “Want to go for a ride?”

I gaze at the keys in fascination, wondering if he just pickpocketed Gunner while I watched. He was so smooth that I didn’t even notice, and if the disgruntled expression on Gunner’s face is any indication, neither did he.

Gunner inhales deeply, as if searching for calm, then lunges toward Jameson and snatches the keys from his friend, moving so fast that I can only blink in shock. “Fine, but I’m driving.”

Jameson strolls toward me, absently pressing a kiss to my cheek before he saunters away. Gunner pauses, looks at Jameson with an indecipherable expression, then peers down at me. Very hesitantly, he leans forward and presses a kiss on the top of my head.

Before I can respond, I’m left watching them leave the house, bickering at each other every step of the way. A throat clears behind me, and I swear I jump a foot in the air. I whirl, a hand to my chest, and only relax when I spot Ellis standing on the other side of the island.

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