Page 9 of 40 and Flirting (with Disaster) (Silver Foxes of Black Wolf’s Bluff #5)

Nine

I ris had felt the air change the minute she caught sight of him. For the briefest second, tears burned at the backs of her eyes—she didn’t want to be this aware of him. Didn’t want whatever this was happening between them to keep happening. And yet she couldn’t deny that it was.

And she had a feeling Jamie wouldn’t let her deny it, even if she could. The man was persistent, she’d give him that.

Blinking back the emotion, she kept a side-eye on him as she attempted to carry on with her conversation.

If Scarlett’s smirk was anything to go by, she wasn’t doing a very good job.

But really, Jamie would make anyone stutter.

The sight of that hard, wide chest in his white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up his sexy forearms, was enough to distract every woman in the room.

Scarlett leaned in. “Arm porn, amiright?”

Lord, was she. Jamie worked hard, that much was obvious, and his arms showed the evidence of just how hard. She could imagine him holding Baby’s lead, keeping her in check, his forearms tight as he mastered the mare.

What she really wanted was for him to master her.

The thought sent a jolt of panic through her.

“Hey, you okay?” Scarlett asked, ever attuned to Iris’s state of being. She was grateful for such an attentive friend at any other time, but right now? She really didn’t want to talk about the thoughts roiling around in her head.

“Sure.”

Scarlett frowned. Guess she hadn’t hidden her true thoughts as well as she’d hoped. She laid a hand on her friend’s arm. “I’ll be fine, Scarlett. Promise.”

“You better be,” her friend muttered before turning as Jamie joined their group.

Greetings went all the way around until finally, Jamie came to her. Trying hard to ignore the avid gazes of what felt like every pair of eyes in the pub, she met that forest-green, all-too-knowing gaze. “Jamie.”

“Iris.” He swept a look down her body, and her nipples tightened. “You look amazing.”

Damn her tendency to blush, even at her age. She’d done it more around Jamie than she had with anyone in years, a fact that made her even more self-conscious. “T-thank you.”

That slight stutter drew forth his wicked grin. Iris felt that look all the way to her core.

Jamie extended his hand. “May I have this dance?”

She should say no. Being this close to him was tempting enough; being in his arms? Resistance at that point would be futile.

“That sounds great,” Scarlett was saying next to her, the big traitor. She had ahold of Gavin’s hand, and grabbed Scarlett with the other. “Come on!”

She had a feeling Jamie knew exactly what her friend was doing—the amusement lighting his eyes told her that much. Without making a big scene, she couldn’t say no. With Scarlett’s help, he had her exactly where he wanted her.

Exactly where she wanted to be.

Surrendering to the inevitable, she followed Scarlett and Gavin out to the dance floor, intensely aware of Jamie close behind her. Anticipation began a slow fizz in her belly. When Scarlett released her to move into Gavin’s arms, Iris turned slowly toward her partner.

Jamie didn’t hesitate. He scooped her against him, chest to breasts, those strong arms encircling her in a cage that, if she was truly honest with herself, she didn’t want to escape.

Some of her conflict must have shown on her face, because Jamie bent to whisper in her ear, “Am I really that horrible a dancer?”

They’d just begun, so he had to know better. But Iris forced herself to relax against him. It was just a dance, after all, not the gallows.

She tipped her face up to meet his eyes.

“You know you’re not.” In fact, even with her initial tension, he guided her expertly around the floor, through the myriad of couples enjoying the slow music as well.

She hadn’t done much slow dancing—Kirk had never been comfortable dancing with her, although she’d heard tales that he’d been the envy of all the other guys in his fraternity at college because girls flocked to him, being one of the few that would actually dance at the frat parties.

Jamie didn’t feel uncomfortable or stiff; he felt warm, his heat seeping into her, relaxing her muscles, focusing her attention solely on him and the pleasure of being held by a partner who obviously relished having her in his arms.

If she’d thought resistance was futile before, now she knew for a fact, there was no resisting this man.

Jamie’s frown caught her attention. “What was that thought?”

She huffed a reluctant laugh. “You have to stop doing that.”

He leaned back, meeting her eyes more fully but also aligning their bellies in a way that had her feeling far too intimate in a crowded room. “Doing what?”

She cleared her throat. “Reading me.”

Jamie’s voice dropped into a deeper register. “I like reading you, Iris.”

“Jamie—”

He gathered her closer, tipped his head down so that his mouth brushed her ear. “It’s okay, Iris. There’s no obligation here, no commitment. Just two people enjoying their time together. Let those worries go.”

Her fingers tightened on his biceps without thought. “I can’t. I’m too—”

When she didn’t finish that sentence, he finished it for her. “Scared?”

“Yes!” The word was abrasive, a Brillo pad scraping across her vocal cords, but it had to be said. He needed to know.

“I understand. I remember that fear very well.”

Surprise jerked through her. “When were you afraid?”

It was an insolent question—everyone had personal fears. But men rarely admitted to them.

“After my own divorce.”

Now it was her turn to lean back, look up at him.

“You were divorced?” He’d been single as long as she’d known him, though she was pretty certain she’d heard he had a son.

She’d been so caught up in her own situation that she hadn’t given his as much thought as she probably should have. “I’m sorry.”

Jamie brought his hand up to cup her cheek, his thumb starting that stroking thing he did anytime he touched her. “I appreciate that, but there’s nothing for you to feel sorry for.”

That wasn’t what she’d meant, but she let it go. She should let the whole thing go, but she couldn’t keep silent. “May I ask…what happened?”

His eyes got a distant look in them. “Brenda wasn’t ready to be a mother. When Michael came along…” He shrugged. “Let’s just say it was better for us to be on our own. I let her go.”

Had there been abuse? Was Michael okay? So many questions, and none of them should she ask.

He stroked her cheek again. “Look at that worry in your eyes. Don’t worry about us, Iris. We were okay. But having a son meant I had to be a lot more careful about any other relationship I allowed into my life.”

A much more valid fear than hers, some would say, although she didn’t think fears required validation. Everyone’s circumstances were individual to them.

“It’s normal to be afraid,” Jamie was saying. “It’s a normal part of life. What matters isn’t that you have them; it’s how you react that matters.”

Not letting those fears control you, he meant.

And yet fear was a basic biological response to keep one safe.

A warning to not do something that could result in harm.

And letting herself get involved with this man could definitely harm her.

If her husband of twenty-three years couldn’t love her enough to stay with her, how could a man like Jamie commit to a relationship with her?

That was it, wasn’t it? The kernel of her fear. That she was unlovable, unworthy. That risking her heart would never pay off because her ex-husband had been a douche bag. It wasn’t logical, but her heart was trying to keep her safe.

Maybe what she needed was just to be honest.

“Jamie…”

He chuckled.

“What?”

Jamie shook his head. “Every time you say my name in that tone of voice, I’m reminded of my third-grade teacher. She told me every single day of that year exactly where I was going wrong. Her standards were impossibly high.”

Were Iris’s?

“It’s okay, Iris,” Jamie told her, probably in response to some emotion flashing across her face. She swore it didn’t matter if she held words back; her face said all that needed to be said despite her restraint. “I don’t mind a little reprimand now and then.”

Something about the way he said reprimand had her thinking he meant something far different. Heat flashed in her cheeks.

“Anyway, you were saying…?”

What had she been saying? Ah…

The song they were dancing to chose that moment to fade into the ether. The jukebox clicked over to “Jessie’s Girl.”

Iris shook her head. “Can we table this discussion for now?”

She sounded like she was in a city council meeting, but this wasn’t the time nor place she wanted to reveal things as personal as she needed to reveal. Jamie’s gentle smile said he understood. “Of course we can. I’m not going anywhere.”

That’s what he says now.

And it was that voice that terrified her.

Jamie joined them at the table piled high with golden chicken wings and beer.

Of course he sat next to her, a maneuver he seemed to have perfected from their first meal together.

Or maybe it was just that her friends were all couples and she and Jamie were the odd ones out.

She tried to ignore his body heat, his laughter, the sheer enjoyment he found in consuming the “finger-lickin’ good” wings Clayton was famous for, but there was no ignoring Jamie, she was coming to find.

He was larger than life, and his presence drew her like a lodestone anytime he was in her vicinity.

For tonight, she decided to relax and enjoy it.

Which was exactly what she did until the last wing was consumed.

Her friends were a good antidote to whatever worried her, and she reveled in the joy of being with a group of people who truly cared about one another.

That joy took a sharp nosedive when she glanced over to see Kirk and his fiancée walking through the door to the Drunken Otter.

Every muscle in her body froze, including the ones holding the smile to her face. She hadn’t seen Kirk since the engagement. She didn’t want to see him now, but living in a small town meant it was inevitable, really. That didn’t mean she wanted to stay.

A warm hand on her arm drew her attention away from the couple crossing to the bar.

Jamie.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

She flashed him a weak smile, not wanting to meet his eyes. “Of course.” She reached for her purse, hanging from the back of her chair.

“You’re not leaving?” Scarlett exclaimed.

Iris shot a glance at the bar, then back to her friend. “I think I’ll call it a night. But you stay.” Scarlett and Gavin had picked her up, but she didn’t want to ruin her friend’s night. “I can call an Uber.” There were usually drivers hanging around on Thursday nights, given the pub’s popularity.

Scarlett was staring daggers at Kirk and Emmie. Iris didn’t turn to look. She didn’t care if he had that satisfied smirk on his face. What she cared about was protecting herself right now, and that meant not being in the same room with them.

Jamie stood beside her. “I’ll take you home.”

“No, no…”

Jamie leaned down, putting his face close to hers. The warm scent of beer and brown sugar brushed her face. “No arguing. You’re not putting me out.” He cupped her cheek like he had on the dance floor, his thumb stroking her cheekbone. “It will be my privilege.”

How did she believe words like that? And yet, staring into his eyes, she knew they were true.

Goodbyes rang out from the rest of the group, and Iris acquiesced. She could feel a hot stare on her back as Jamie led her out of the pub, but she didn’t look in Kirk’s direction. She focused on moving forward. Her ex would not get the satisfaction of holding her back.