Is she okay?
I pull my phone out of my pocket and text her.
Are you ready? I’m at the door.
“I’m sorry!” Cami yells, just as I hit send. She’s upstairs, yelling out of an open window. “The door is unlocked. I’ll be down in a second!”
“What are you doing?” I yell back.
“It’s girl stuff! You don’t want to know! Just be thankful that you’re a boy.”
I haven’t been a boy in a very, very long time. I’ll set to reminding her of that tonight.
I walk inside and back to the kitchen, foraging under the sink and in the cabinets until I find a vase, then arrange the flowers and carry them to the living room and set them on the sofa table.
When I turn around, my tongue glues itself to the roof of my mouth, making it impossible to speak. But Cami’s eyes are warm with female recognition, and she knows.
She knows that she’s a fucking knockout in that dress. She knows that her hair looks touchable the way it’s pinned up in that messy knot. And she definitely knows that her legs look long and lean and would be perfect wrapped around my waist.
Oh, she knows. And I fucking love it.
Chapter 5
~Cami~
He’s downstairs. In my house. And of course, he’s on time because he’s always on time.
And I’m not ready.
I slip my feet into my new Jimmy Choo heels and take a last look in the mirror. Short skirt, carefully sculpted messy hair, sparkly heels.
I’m ready.
I take a deep breath and try to remember what Riley said last night when we watched our show. Or, rather, when we tried to watch our show, but I was too keyed up.
He’s just a man. Just a regular ol’ man. Nothing special there at all.
From the bottom of the stairs, I stand and watch Landon arrange a bouquet of sunflowers in my vase, fussing over them just like I would, then he turns around and sees me, and all the blood drains from his face. I’m not going to lie, it’s a great ego boost to watch as his eyes rake up and down my body. He has to swallow hard, and when he tries to speak, he has to swallow again.
Ego boost, indeed.
Every emotion shows on Landon’s face. It always has. He can be playful and arrogant and, well, a typical confident man, but his face doesn’t lie. That’s what drew me to him from the beginning. I was a young girl being raised by elderly parents, my siblings already out of the house, and this boy would smile at me, and I felt like I was at home.
I never saw him as a brother, but I did see him as a protector, a friend, and in my girlish fantasies, my prince charming.
He’s no prince, but he can be charming.
“Wow,” he finally says with a soft smile. “You’re just beautiful.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I reply, meaning every word. He’s in black pants and a blue button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His hair is still a bit wet from his shower, curling around his collar.
I could eat him with a spoon.
“Are you hungry?” he asks.
I’m too nervous to be hungry. “Starving,” I lie.
“Well, then let’s feed you.” He reaches for my hand, but stops himself. “Oh! These are for you.”
“They’re lovely.” I touch the petals of the yellow blooms and then turn to him. “How did you know they’re my favorite?”
“I have my ways,” he replies with a wink, and holds his hand out for mine. The fact that this is the first time that Landon has ever held my hand is not lost on me. And the sixteen-year-old in me might be squealing right now.
But all I can think is how good his big hand feels wrapped around mine. He leads me to his car and opens the door for me, and we’re off. But rather than driving to a restaurant, Landon pulls into his own driveway.
“Did you forget something?” I ask.
“Nope. This is where we’re going.” He smiles. “Stay. I’m opening your door, since this is an official date and all.”
We’re going to his place. What does this mean? I’m not stupid, and I’m no virgin. That ship sailed many moons ago. So this has seduction scene written all over it. Am I ready for that with Landon?
On the one hand, absolutely. On the other . . . I’m not sure.
“Stop thinking so hard,” Landon says as he helps me out of the car and leads me to the door. “I am not going to try to poison you with my cooking.”
“Thank goodness,” I reply with a laugh. “Mia definitely got all of the cooking skills in your family.”
“I’ve cooked for you before,” he says defensively as he closes the door behind us.
“I remember.” I shudder, teasing him, then glance into the dining room and feel my jaw drop. “Wow.”
Candles are lit and more sunflowers are on the table. Soft music is playing through a speaker on the kitchen counter.
“Dinner is in the oven,” he says. “Have a seat. Would you like some wine? A beer?”
“What’s for dinner?” I ask.
“Burgers.”
“I’ll take the beer.” I sit at the table and watch all six feet of sexy man clumsily pull dinner out of the oven and plate it, then walk toward me. “Is that from Burgerville?”
“Of course. It’s your favorite.”
I blink at the plate before me, then look up at Landon as he sits next to me, rather than across from me. “You remember that?”
“No onions, right? With extra pickles.”