A gasp escaped through her parted lips as he reached up to cup her cheeks, and her blue eyes grew wide as he moved closer. Over months of observation, Bella had complied a mental list of traits to describe Jamie MacFusty: narrow-minded, blunt, rooted in routine, hardworking, practical—but most importantly, he was predictable. So predictable, in fact, that Bella had also compiled a mental list of what comments, attitudes, tones, and actions upset him, accompanied by the reactions he gave to them. It was Bella who was supposed to be the impulsive one; the one who lost all sense of societal standards the moment she was overwhelmed by a flurry of emotions.

And in this case, she supposed, it was her who was the predictable one.

Bella reached up and cupped his stubbly jawline with her hands, shifting in her seat until both feet were flat on the ground. She didn't break the kiss she rose from her seat and moved closer until she was nearly in his lap. Her hands wandered down to his shoulders and then around his neck, her fingers knotting themselves in his cropped hair.

"Jamie," she murmured, momentarily pulled away for air before she moved back in. It was both a warning and a plead; he would have to pull away, because Bella was not prepared for the inevitable embarrassment that would follow. At the same time, she didn't want to stop. With Jamie's strange sense of self-righteousness, he was just as likely to request that she leave as he was likely to invite her to stay a while longer.

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