Jamison’s gaze scatters across his new fans until they land on me. He scowls. Meanwhile, my stomach is fluttering, my entire body tingling with want.
He puts his focus back on the other girls. Guess I’m alone in that feeling then.
He’s swarmed, all the girls asking about where he learned to play and why he chose to come to Alaska. All the same questions I have written down to ask him.
“I told you,” Miles says, swinging his sweaty arm over my shoulders.
“I need an in. This is insane.”
“Wait until after he showers. Coach tells them all to go home. I’ll introduce you two.” He winks before heading toward the locker room.
Jamison walks away, waving to the girls, but he glances at me and stops before jogging over. My throat closes up the closer he comes. His blue eyes twinkle, even without any light on them. His dark hair drips with sweat, but his body is deliciously packaged with lean muscle.
Once he stands in front of me, he towers over me. “Why are you here? Still trying to figure out why I’m not wearing a kilt?”
“What?” I blink in surprise at the animosity tone in his voice. “Kilt?”
“Yeah, you know. You assuming all Scots are red-haired, pasty, and wear a kilt with nothing underneath?”
I shake my head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
His eyes narrow and he steps back. “Sure, you don’t.”
Before I can say anything, he jogs away and disappears into the building. That’s when it dawns on me and I pull out my phone. Phoenix answers on the first ring.
“Did you talk to the new foreign exchange student?” I ask.
“Ugh, isn’t he annoying? That accent of his is clearly exaggerated. And I asked him where his kilt was and whether he wears anything under it, and he got all offended. It can’t be the first time someone’s asked.”
I shake my head. “Well, he just confused me for you.”
“You should feel lucky. The guy is a class-A asshole who thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”
“I’ll see you at home.” I hang up and round the front of the school to the parking lot.
Austin’s ridiculous Jeep with that damn snorkel on it is parked in the front row. Maybe Miles can give me a ride so I don’t have to be seen in that thing again today.
Sitting at the picnic table, I go over my questions. Some of the parents of the soccer players pull up along the curb to pick them up, and I’m thinking the interview isn’t going to happen today.
The school doors open, and a group of guys walk out. Miles points me out to Jamison. He’s not scowling anymore, so that’s good.
“Jamison, this is Sedona Bailey,” Miles says, which means he’s already explained the twin thing.
Jamison puts out his hand. His hair is now damp from the shower and his body smells like pure man. A pair of low-slung sweatpants rest on his hips, and he wears a sweatshirt with Aberdeen Football Club stamped on it. “I’m sorry I acted like an arse.”
Now that he’s not so angry, I take better notice of his accent. Oh my God, it’s divine.
I nod, my voice lost somewhere deep down in my throat. “It’s okay. It happens.”
There’s a hint of callouses on his palm, but electricity flies up my arm at his touch.
He clears his throat. “So, Miles said you wanted to interview me for the newspaper?”
I nod.
Miles shakes his head at me because I’m blabbering like one of his groupies.
I clear my throat. “Whenever you’re available.”
“How about Friday night? We could meet somewhere?” Jamison offers.
I almost melt to the ground. “Yeah, sure.”
Miles rolls his eyes.
“Cool.” Jamison runs his hand through his hair.
I wonder what that feels like. I clench my hand harder on my notepad.
“Six o’clock at that diner place in town?” He turns to Miles and adds, “I love their pies.”
Miles nods and huffs.
“I’ll be there,” I say.
“Cool.” Jamison steps away. Thank goodness because I might just faint. He stops short. “Sorry again about earlier, lass.”
Omg, he called me lass!
I shake my head. “No problem. I’m fully aware of how Phoenix can be.”
“Great meeting you, Sedona.” His gaze falls down my body once before he leaves, climbing into his host parent’s car.
“Another one bites the dust,” Miles says, tugging on my arm. “I’ll drive you home. But please put your tongue back in your mouth. I don’t want drool all over my seats.”
I climb into Miles’s truck and all I can think about is Jamison. Is this how my mom felt when she met my dad? I’ll bet it is.
Seven
Sedona
Palmer’s favorite thing to do at the park is play in the sandbox. As I sit on the bench watching her, my anxiety increases my heart rate tenfold. Any second, her father is going to show up. Palmer’s always curious about anyone new, and I know she’s going to ask questions.
She scoops sand into the fish mold and dumps it over, all of the loose sand spilling out before the mold presses into the sand. Then she picks up the fish and looks at it quizzically, and her shoulders slump.
She’s so amazing. So sweet and open to anyone she meets. It’s that aspect of her little personality that kept me up late last night. She’ll open her arms wide for Jamison. How will he react?
“Hey,” he announces himself before coming into my peripheral vision.
I inhale and close my eyes for a second. I open them, Palmer’s already ditched the sandbox to walk over to us.
Jamison rounds the bench. He’s dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, and the fresh scent of his soap wafts by me before he sits next to me.
“Hey,” I say.
Palmer stands in front of him and stares.
Jamison glances at me and back at her. Hello, how are you?
Why am I irritated that he can sign? I should be thrilled that I’m finally able to narrow down why Palmer was born deaf. The fact he can so easily communicate with her is a plus, not a minus, but I hate it just the same.
Palmer waves to him and looks at me. Who?
Jamison remains still, allowing me the right to decide how I want to introduce him.
“I’m sorry. I’m just not ready yet.” I don’t look at him when I speak or sign. Friend.
Palmer smiles and turns all her attention to Jamison. Grabbing his hand, she leads him over to the sandbox, where he sits on the edge. Palmer picks up the fish mold and holds it out for him, grunting for him to take it. He smiles and accepts it, then he presses the sand into the fish mold, completing the task she tried to do minutes earlier. Palmer smiles wide, clapping with her mouth wide open in surprise. Jamison beams with happiness as he stares at her, and my stomach twists in knots.
I can’t get over how healthy he looks. How carefree he appears compared to when I left him and the weight of the world was on his shoulders.
I’m not sure how long I sit there, lost in my thoughts.
“Sedona?” Jamison’s hand on my shoulder pulls me back from reliving the nightmare our love affair turned into.