He’d resigned his position in Florida two weeks ago—the day after their dive shop visit—but Nico, like Chloe, was still in the dark regarding that major life move.
Now the official owner of Montauk Dive Shop, he closed on the property yesterday with plans to tell her over celebratory champagne—and coincidental gender-neutral cupcakes—last night. But then his dick got involved, and the next thing you know, some poor newbie deputy was now suffering PTSD simply because he got a report of trespassing.
Good news for Jameson, though. It laid the groundwork for a grand gesture of love and commitment. He wasn’t great with words. He was more an action kind of guy.
Walking out of the back office, he stopped near the front counter where Evergreen sat, her fingers moving at warp speed over the screen of her iPad.
“They just showed up,” she said, anticipating his question. “The bucket truck is drawing attention, but so far, she’s stayed in her office.”
She held up the screen, showing him a live video feed of the workers. He must have looked uncertain because Cade clapped him on the back.
“Stop worrying, boss. She’ll love it.”
“And if she doesn’t, it’s only temporary,” Evergreen said, her gaze back on the screen. “She and I can work together on the logo.”
It wasn’t ready. Wasn’t exactly as they planned. Not yet anyway.
But thanks to Nico’s ill-timed text notification, Jameson was changing course mid-mission. No biggie. He was trained to make life-or-death decisions, under the harshest of conditions, in the smallest window of time.
It was only his future on the line.
And his heart.
When he walked into Something Borrowed a few hours later, that same heart pinched at the pain in her beautiful blue eyes.
“Oh, great. They let you out of jail,” she said sarcastically. In her opinion, it wasn’t great at all. “I asked them to set your bail at one million dollars.”
She barely looked at him, her attention on the laptop on her desk.
As if he mattered little.
Stopping just inside the door, he felt out of place in the luxurious, ultra-feminine space.
“That newbie they sent is now traumatized,” he said casually, reconsidering the option of a fireman’s carry. “Thought he was gonna shoot himself in the foot, he was so nervous.”
“Were you mean to him?” Her accusation stung.
Mostly because it was true.
“I was still bare-assed from the shower when he showed up. Lights and sirens, by the way. You expected me to be nice?” He shook his head, unable to hide a smile. “Hope your conscience can handle a washed-out cop after his second day on the job.”
Wendy sat at a desk perpendicular to Chloe’s, and her laughter saved her boss from a response. When she stood, he grinned at the bump outlined by her snug dress.
“Congrats on the new team member,” he murmured, gesturing toward her middle section. “Feeling any better?”
“Yes.” She wasn’t as pale as the first time he visited Chloe’s office. “Chuck’s only struck once so far today. But if you see me run for the bathroom, get outta the way.”
She laid a hand over her belly, and puffed out her cheeks.
“Sounds . . . awful?” He handed her a folded piece of cotton wrapped with a hemp rope similar to a boat mooring. “But now you’ll have three. Doug’s a lucky guy.”
Three sounded like a perfect number. Four was better, but he’d take two.
And technically, they had a head start at one. Johnny might not belong to them, but goddamn it, he was theirs.
“Oh, how cute!” Wendy gushed at his gift. “Look, Chloe! How cute, right?”
She held up a tiny white onesie, size zero to three months and not much bigger than his hand, with bold black print on the front.
Montauk Dive Shop
The website was listed underneath because according to Evergreen, they must never miss an opportunity to promote.
“Yeah,” Chloe breathed after an awkward pause, her brow creasing as she stared at it. “Cute.”
“Turn it over,” he said.
Wendy did, and her face melted in response. “Aww.”
Novice Diver with a Wet Diaper was printed on the rump. Evergreen’s first marketing initiative, and so far, a winner.
“You’re being deliberately cruel,” Chloe hissed at him, tears filling her eyes.
Or not.
“Wait. What did I do?” He was shocked by her anger. “It’s made from hypoallergenic, machine washable, sustainable cotton.” All according to Evergreen.
Wendy laughed. Chloe didn’t.
“What did you do?” she repeated, aghast. “And you have the nerve to comment about my conscience?”
“Aaand I’m just gonna go now,” Wendy drawled, backing away from the ticking time bomb.
Grabbing her purse, she was out the door with a quick, “Be back later, Chloe. Thanks for the gift, Jameson. Don’t kill each other, mm-kay?”
As soon as the door shut behind her, Chloe came around her desk. She still wore the same clothes as last night, a T-shirt with the halo of a frosting stain, shorts that showed off her lean, tanned legs, and her beloved flip flops.
Tapping her watch, she smirked at him. “By my calculation, you should be in Georgia right now. You’re running late.”
He smiled.
There was something so inherently sexy about her when she was fired up.
“Nico’s probably pissed he has no hush puppies, and do I need to remind you, you’re missing out on what sounds like a hell of a camel toe.”
This time he laughed. She was so goddamn gorgeous.
And she was on a roll.
“I hate to break it to you, but the bitch named Betsy probably has a massive furburger.” She held up her hand, flashing him a stop sign. “Don’t get too excited. It’s probably a jungle in those yoga pants, and I know you had a bad experience there once.”
“Furburger?” He hadn’t heard that word since his military days.
“Yeah,” she snapped. “Hair pie. And I suffered through a wax for you, which I usually only do during swimsuit season! Why did I even bother?”
Huffing, she grabbed a binder from the bookcase behind Wendy’s desk and stormed back to her own.
“You’re jealous.”
The binder hit the desk with a thud, and she scoffed. “Hardly.”
“I thought I told you last night, but in different words. You’re the only camel toe I’m interested in. Feel free to wear yoga pants in front of me.”
“How can I wear yoga pants in front of you?” She threw her hands up in the air. “You’re leaving again, Jameson!”
“I’m not.”
“You lied to me,” she said, not hearing him as she ticked off his faults on one hand, finger by finger. “You had sex with me repeatedly. You made me fall in love with you again. You ate my muffin and my cupcake.”
She blushed after realizing how dirty that sounded.
“Guilty as charged for eating your muffin,” he interjected with a grin, but she was back to her checklist.
“So, in conclusion as to why you’re still an asshole—lies, sex, love, and leaving.” Tap, tap, tap of her fingertips.