As much as I appreciate his sentiment, I'm a little preoccupied with my internal freak-out. It was one thing to indulge in a sauna fantasy with Jarvis last week, it's another thing to be confronted with the consequences of my wildly inappropriate actions in front of my son and son-in-law.
Robbie leads Jarvis outside, chatting away animatedly. They're really nothing alike physically—Robbie is short and petite, and Jarvis is tall and filled out in all the right places—but they share a common ability to cast a spell over us Palmer men.
I can't help my breath hitching in my throat as I take Jarvis in. It's my first time seeing him in anything other than workout gear, and he looks absolutelydivinein a striped olive-green button-down over a white t-shirt, paired with chinos and scuffed sneakers; the relaxed fit of his clothes does nothing to hide his size or strength.
He sees me but smartly approaches Dunlop first. The two embrace, and then he's got no choice but to greet me.Shit, shit, shit. It's been far too long since high school drama class, and why didn't I pay more attention instead of treating it like a free period and slacking off with mates? Why didn't I have the foresight to think that some four decades later, those method acting skills would come in handy to convince my family I'm notfooling around with my son-in-law's brother who's twenty years my junior?
"Jarvis."
"Anson."
I'm mesmerized by his light-blue eyes, the freckles that dance across his cheeks, that full mouth that I'm yet to kiss but long so badly to.
Remembering we’re not alone, I somewhat awkwardly grab his upper arm, a mangled greeting somewhere between a handshake and a backslap. He mirrors the action on my other arm, and we stand there for a few seconds, holding on to each other like two action figures who got stuck mid-fight.
Dunlop coughs, and I snap out of it and into hosting mode, offering Jarvis a drink as the guys take a seat at the table.
That was a close call, but I think we got away with it.
10
Jarvis
Fun fact about me: I've never rated Jim Carrey. The over-the-top facial expressions, the lack of subtlety; he's the poster child for overacting. And, in my humble opinion, not even that funny.
Fun fact about Anson Palmer: he makes Jim Carrey look like an Oscar-worthy nominee.
From the moment I arrived, he's been stiff and robotic, alternating between gawking at me then avoiding me entirely, fidgeting with his distracting, oh-so-talented fingers at the table. Like, just keep it cool and act natural, man.
I have a sneaking suspicion my younger brother either didn't tell him I'd be joining them or he left it to the last minute because given proper warning, I'm sure Anson would be doing a better job of not blowing our cover.
We make it through lunch, and when Robbie pointedly urges Dunlop to help him clear the dishes, it gives Anson and me our first moment alone. He makes sure they've gone inside then leans in and whispers even though there's half a mile separatingus from the kitchen. "I'm sorry. I'm doing a terrible job of this, aren't I?"
"No, you're not." I lie because the last thing I need is him getting self-conscious and butchering things even more.
"You haven't said anything to Robbie about what we did, have you?"
He's still whispering, which is low-key cute and total-key unnecessary, so I whisper back. "Oh, I totally did. First thing I did when I left your place was tell him his father-in-love fingered my b-hole and made me come in his sauna."
I haveneverseen someone's face go red so fast in my life. It's like someone doused him in ketchup. "I'm kidding. Geez. Relax, Anson. We got this. Just…stay cool."
"Yeah, okay, okay." He drags his hand through his long hair and leaves it there, tugging at it like he’s trying to think his way out of something.
"And stop doing that," I say. "You're acting sus. They can still see us."
"Shit. You're right." He drops his hand so fast the whole table rattles from the impact.
I'm almost afraid to ask but do it anyway. "Did that hurt?"
"Yeah." He grimaces. "But at least I'm a good actor, right?"
Oh, boy.Ifwe get out of this alive, Anson and I are going to have to have a proper chat at our next session.
Anson opens the front door, leans against it, and smiles. "Hey, Jarvis. Good to see you."
It'sverygood to see him, too. After miraculously making it through lunch without our cover being blown, it crossed my mind that Anson might have second thoughts about continuingwith our training program. The guy looked positively stressed out.
Unlike now.