If I closed my eyes, I could pretend I was there watching, too.

“That from today?” Jamie asked, talking about the picture. “Fuck. Can you hear me? Hold up, I’m movin’. There’s too many fuckin’ people over here.”

“I can hear you.” I chuckled at his irritation, then followed up my laughter with an honest, “Sort of,” lifting my shoulder as I said it.

The background noise grew quieter in my ear. I could tell Jamie was still outside near the water, but he was away from the crowd now, not standing among them.

“Better?” he asked.

“Better.”

“And?”

“It’s from today, yes.”

“You got more of those?”

My mouth twitched. “Pages and pages,” I answered honestly.

“Fuck,” Jamie breathed, and I knew right then how much he thought of the picture I’d sent him.

It was totally just like saying the words.

“Wanna be here,” he went on telling me, talking about the meet. “I haven’t won this yet and been wantin’ to win it. Got my sponsors here. Got people who came out to see me, no one else, but I’m two seconds away from saying fuck it, you know?”

I bowed my head, heart swelling and that funny, fluttering sensation warming my belly. “Yeah,” I whispered. “I know how you feel. I totally hate it here.”

“Yeah,” Jamie replied, understanding. He knew I was crazy about this job. “I get back tomorrow,” he continued. “Flights not landin’ ’til late, but I wanna see those pages, babe. All of ’em.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll come to you. Got my key so you don’t gotta wait up.”

“I’ll be up,” I told him, knowing there was no way I’d be able to sleep waiting on Jamie. I never could. Even when it had only been hours since I last saw him, I still twisted in my sheets restlessly and stared at the bedroom door.

He exhaled heavily in my ear.

“What?” I smiled. “Your fans follow you or something? Move around again.”

“Years, babe,” Jamie mumbled, his voice rougher and richer, carrying meaning.

He was definitely not talking about his fans.

The hand I had curling around the lip of the counter behind me curled harder. I lost my smile. Jamie was referring to how long he would’ve waited for me again. He was feeling that truth hundreds of miles away and making sure I knew he was feeling it.

I was. And right now, I did not need him making sure I was feeling anything.

“Damn it. Stop being so sweet,” I scolded, looking up and checking behind me for Nate. His door was still closed so I turned back around, informing Jamie while I did that, “I’m already hating this place today. You’re just making it worse.”

“Makin’ it worse for me just by breathin’, Legs. I think you can handle me telling you somethin’ I’ve already fuckin’ said.”

My mouth fell open. Oh, my God. Seriously?

Even when he was being a little dickish, he was still sweet.

“I’m gonna go before I set fire to this place and hop on the next plane,” I told him, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You say anything else and I’m afraid that’s what it’s coming to.”

Jamie laughed in my ear. I was completely serious.

I dropped my hand, grinning as I listened to that beautiful sound while turning toward the front of the restaurant. I spotted Shay tending to one of her tables, then looking near the door, I saw Kali leading Jenna, Brian’s sister, and her seven-year-old twins, Oliver and Olivia, to an open booth in my section.

I’d met them a few weeks ago when Syd started having her Sunday family dinners.

Olivia jumped up and waved frantically at me when she caught my eye. Her pigtails bounced in the air. I waved back to her and Jenna. Oliver kept his attention on the game in his hand as he slid into the booth.

“Gotta go, babe. Shit’s about to start,” Jamie announced after he was finished sharing his amusement, but he was still grinning. I could hear it. “That okay, or are you lightin’ a match?” he teased.

Yep. Totally grinning. I ignored his teasing and focused on a much more pressing topic.

“Text me after you win?”

“Call you,” Jamie corrected me, letting me know a text wouldn’t do. He was going to be wanting to talk to me after.

I could’ve argued and insisted on the text, but I didn’t. Job be damned at this point. Plus I was certain I could sneak in another quick phone call somehow.

Which led to me agreeing and giving Jamie a “’Kay,” instead of anything else. “Good luck,” I added.

“Don’t need it,” he replied.

I sighed, was in the middle of an eye roll and about to tell Jamie I knew he didn’t need luck, when he lit the match himself.

“Don’t need it,” he repeated, voice softer. “Like that you wanna give it, though, babe. Means somethin’ to me. More than anyone else givin’ me that.”

I inhaled sharply through my nose, feeling it tingle. “Damn it,” I whispered. “You suck. I’m hanging up now.”

Jamie chuckled in my ear. “Later, babe.”

I disconnected the call and stuffed my phone into my back pocket. Then I grabbed a short stack of napkins and three rolls of silverware from underneath the bar, moved out from behind it, and padded across the room in the direction of the booth Jenna and her kids had claimed.

* * *

My phone was vibrating in my pocket. Long vibrations letting me know I was getting a call, not a text.

I immediately pictured Jamie standing on a podium, cocky smirk in place, holding his first-place trophy in one hand while flipping off his competition with the other.

Was he finished already?

I stopped pouring Oliver’s sweet tea, glanced up, and saw Nate was still out on the floor talking to his mother, who had stopped in for a visit with Marley, Nate’s adorable baby girl.

My boss was right there. Barely ten feet in front of me. Crap. There was no sneaking a phone call now. Nate would totally bust me. Three strikes and I was out.

Begrudgingly, and against all of my heart’s desires, I ignored the call and went back to pouring the sweet tea.

My phone stopped vibrating, then a second later it started vibrating again, and not indicating I had a voice mail waiting on me. No. This was another call. Jamie didn’t even bother with a message. He was hitting Redial.

He was really wanting to talk to me. And I was really wanting to talk to him. Screw it. I set the pitcher down, let go of the glass, and reached for my back pocket.

Nate turned his head at that exact moment, as if he could fucking sense my unprofessionalism from where he was standing and the lengths I was willing to go to, and looked at me through his dark-rimmed glasses with eyes that were hard and suspicious and calculating firing strategies.

At least, that’s what I was seeing.

I flashed him a smile that was top-notch employee professional, and resumed gripping the pitcher and the glass.

Nate looked away and resumed speaking with his mother. The phone stopped vibrating. I closed my eyes and gathered breath in my lungs, started to expel it slowly and calmly, hoping to embrace that feeling instead of going manic up in here, but nearly choked on my breath when my pocket started vibrating yet again.