Page 36 of Courageous Hearts

“Thank you,” I say softly.

He shakes his head slightly, maybe in as much disbelief over the last five minutes as I am. With a clearing of my throat, I push off the brick wall. Jameson tracks me as I step forward.

“I, um…assumed you were straight,” I admit.

He implied as much that morning after I stayed over. When we cuddled.

“So did I,” he replies.

Oh wow. Okay.

“So this…” I say, waving between us. “What is this?”

“The start of something, if you want it to be,” he says, surprising the hell out of me. He adds, gaze intent, “I want it to be.”

He seems so sure, but he thought he was straight before what? Before me? Do I want to be his foray into queerdom? What if he decides he wants to go back to women? What if he sees me—truly sees me—and decides I’m not what he wants?

And yet this is Jameson we’re talking about. And even though I’ve only known the man for a short while, I don’t believe he’d hurt me. Not on purpose. In fact, all of my interactions with the man thus far have proved the contrary.

Besides, every relationship comes with risk.

This may be new to Jameson, but it’s not new to me. I know what I’m feeling, what I’ve been feeling ever since this man first wiped away my tears. I want him. And I’m pretty sure I can trust him.

“I need to get back inside,” Jameson says softly, apologetically. “I’ve been out here too long already. Dee is probably wondering where I am.”

“Of course,” I say, shaking my head and picking up my backpack from where I’d unceremoniously dropped it to the ground.

“Can we talk about this later?” he asks. “Tomorrow?”

I nod, my heart fluttering as Jameson lets out a relieved breath.

“Tomorrow,” I agree.

“Okay, good.” Jameson takes half a step before turning back my way and striding over. He grabs my face in his hands, angling me up and kissing me again, short but hard. I whimper, and when his lips draw away from my own, he looks like he doesn’t want to go. Like he wants to stay right here with me, forcing more of those sounds from my throat. But he steps back, releasing my face before walking slowly backwards. “Night, Bo.”

“Night,” I mumble a little weakly, my lips still tingling.

Jameson gives me a flash of his dimple before he tugs open the back door of Gertie’s and disappears inside. I stand there a moment longer, the street traffic white noise behind me as a slow smile takes over my face. I touch my cheek, my lower lip, my chest.

I don’t know if there could be a future in store for me and Mr. Wright, but I’m pretty dang excited to find out.

Chapter 11

Jameson

I have a grin on my face all day, from the moment I wake up to the moment I step inside Gertie’s in time to take inventory before my bartending shift starts. At one point, Missa catches me whistling, and she shoots me a little smile and a head shake before moving on.

I can’t get the memory of that kiss out of my head. That kiss.

And Bo initiated it. That’s what really floors me. I was so caught up in my own new, unexpected feelings that I hadn’t had time to contemplate next steps. I had no clue where Bo stood. I didn’t know if they liked me.

Well, last night made it pretty clear I’m not in this alone. Thank fuck.

As I’m stepping out of the storage room, having counted each and every case of liquor we have in stock, I nearly run into the very person responsible for my good mood. The person who’s been circling around my mind for hours, days, weeks now.

Bo draws up short, skidding to a halt in an attempt to avoid a collision with me, and I reach out, steadying them as they come to a stop an inch in front of my face.

“Hi,” Bo breathes.

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