Page 65 of Sinfully Shameless Chef

Tapping the end of my pen against the metal counter, I run through the whole list again—all Grams’ recipes, with a few slight modifications to make them my own.

Corn bread! How could I have forgotten that?

Grams’ jalapeno cornbread is to die for, especially with her chili recipe or the mac and cheese.

Crap.

Without anything cooking in the kitchen, I smell him before I hear him or see him—that spicy, rich scent hitting me almost instantly.

I need to put bells on that front door. Because it sure as hell isn't safe to have Jameson Fury sneaking in here unannounced.

It would be so much easier if I had time to prepare myself, to steel myself against his bourbon eyes that I just want to drink down. To tell my body no when it yearns for him to reach out and touch me.

Be strong, Iz.

I look up to find him approaching me slowly. Almost like he doesn't want to startle me despite the fact he’s intentionally made no noise coming in.

For the first time since I first met him, Jameson looks uncertain. Disheveled. Like something is weighing on him. And he’s sporting a pretty good black eye that looks painful. “Hey.”

“Hey, what the hell happened? Are you okay?

My first thought is an angry ex got to him, but he said he hadn’t been with anyone in a while. So, unless he lied to me, it’s something else.

“I’m fine.” His lips press together into a hard line, and he shoves a hand back through his hair almost violently, glancing away from me to try to hide the wince and grinding of his teeth. “Shit.”

While the word was mumbled, barely audible, the frustration and evident pain he’s in pulls at my heartstrings more than it should.

“What's wrong?”

He shakes his head and sighs, returning his gaze to mine. “I'm not sure, just feeling very…” He waves his hand in front of him like he’s searching for the right word.

Only one comes to mind to describe his demeanor. “Anxious?”

“Yes.”

It takes a lot for a man like Jameson to admit that. He doesn’t like to admit any kind of weakness. He always wants to be the one in control and to convince everyone that his control is unwavering.

He shifts on his feet and scans the kitchen, avoiding making eye contact with me again. “I just had a very frustrating phone call with Grant earlier this morning, and I tried to forget about it and get on with my day, get shit done, but some things he said are just driving me a little crazy.”

“Things like what?”

Jameson finally levels his gaze on me. “Things he said about you.”

I fully stand and turn to face him. “What about me?”

“He wanted to know if you were going to be a problem for us…for me.”

“What did you say?”

He watches me for a moment, then closes the distance between us until all he has to do is reach out an inch to touch me, but he holds back. “I told him you wouldn't be.”

The words hurt more than anything I’ve been through in my life, and that’s saying a lot. They slam into me like wrecking balls—one by one. He’s definitely a problem for me, but apparently, he can blow me off without a second thought.

Why come here to tell me that? To reiterate how little I mean to him?

I clear my throat and try to tamp down the tears. “That's good? I guess?”

“But that was a lie…”

---