Page 74 of Sinfully Shameless Chef

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IZZY

Jameson opens the door slowly, with far less enthusiasm than I had anticipated given the way we left things this morning. The kiss he gave me before I had to leave and rush home almost made me stay. But I don’t have that luxury. I shouldn’t have even slept here last night, shouldn’t have put off what my body needs to stay healthy until the sun came up, but being in his arms felt too good to leave.

And he looks as bad as I feel today.

Dark circles ring his eyes, and his disheveled hair looks like he’s been running his hands through it constantly.

I know why I feel like crap, but Jameson doesn’t usually seem so out of sorts. We were both running around like mad all day. I didn’t even see him during the hour or two that I was actually at the restaurant today, so maybe he’s just exhausted.

“You okay?” I push up onto my tiptoes to give him a kiss which he returns, but his hands remain at his sides rather than enveloping me the way they normally do when he kisses me.

Something's wrong.

This isn’t just him being tired after last night.

I pull back from him and search his eyes for the answer. But they offer nothing but unease. The usual warmth there seems almost cold, sending a chill over my skin. “What's wrong?”

He ushers me inside with a hand at my lower back and closes the door behind us. For some reason, the click of it securing seems to vibrate through me and bring a cold sweat, like it’s some harbinger of something bad about to come.

I set my bag onto the couch and turn to face him. Jameson isn’t the type to outwardly show his distress over anything. Last night was the first time I’ve ever seen him not acting like a total smartass and smug as hell.

Whatever it is, it’s eating away at him bad enough to make him look like utter shit and let down the wall of confidence he usually holds so steady.

He sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “Nothing’s wrong, but there's something we need to talk about.”

A tiny bit of relief hits me, and the excitement I had when I first knocked on his door returns. “Oh, I have something I have to talk to you about, too.”

Even though running around all day has left me worn out, these are well worth it.

I rummage in my bag and pull out the signs I had printed for the opening. “I probably should’ve run these by you before I had them printed just to get a second opinion, but aren't they adorable? I'm going to start plastering them around Brooklyn tomorrow.”

Unfortunately, I don’t have a huge budget to advertise the opening, but grassroots marketing still works. Posting on social media, calling anyone I can to invite them to come, and putting these up on light poles and bulletin boards in the area should be good enough to have the restaurant packed opening night.

His eyes scan the sign, and he swallows thickly. “Yeah. They're great. Were they expensive?”

I sigh and examine them again. “Definitely more than I wanted to spend. But well worth it because they turned out awesome, and I think they’re very eye-catching.”

“Uh-huh.” He averts his gaze and seems more interested in anything than me.

“Why are you being so weird?”

This isn’t at all what I expected when I arrived here tonight. I thought all of the weirdness between us was in the past. After what happened last night, after our talk, it felt like we had finally connected in a deeper way. I even considered telling him everything when I woke up this morning, but I didn't want to ruin the good mood with the harsh realities of my life, so I held off even though I know I can’t delay much longer.

Now, the good vibes we had appear to have been ruined by something else.

Unless he found out…

“You're kinda freaking me out, Jameson. What's going on?”

He finally locks his focus on me again, a new determination hardening his typically warm and inviting bourbon eyes. “You need to move your opening out by at least a week.”

“Excuse me?” A heat flares over my skin, tightening in and making me feel a little clammy. The room starts to spin slightly like I’m stuck on some sort of awful amusement park ride. “I must've misheard you.”

“I'm sorry, Izzy.” He shrugs, the motion slow and deliberate. “You couldn't have known, but it's the same night as my opening.”

“Shit.” A strange mix of ice and warmth rushes through my veins, sending goose bumps over my damp skin. My legs wobble, and I sway slightly but manage to brace my leg against the couch to find my balance. “You want me to cancel my opening that I scheduled on my grandmother's birthday because yours is more important? Because you don't want me to what…steal your thunder?”

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