“He likes you,” I murmur as I sit at the opposite end of the couch and dial the number for Cami’s favorite Chinese place. After I order, I glance over to see that Cami’s eyes are heavy. Her head is tilted back, leaning on the couch. Her bare feet are on the ottoman, crossed at the ankles.
I need to get my hands on her. But when I move to scoot closer, she flinches and eyes me warily.
I hate this. Did I fuck up that badly? Did I hurt her feelings that morning so bad that she’s placed me directly in the friend zone? And I’m talking the don’t-touch-me friend zone.
I hate that place, especially with Cami. I know that we’ll never be like we were when we were kids, and hell, I don’t want to be. I want to be close to her. I want to get to know her again.
“How is Steven?” I ask, trying to fill the silence. She smiles sweetly.
“He’s great. He’s living with his girlfriend, but he checks in with me often, and we try to get together for dinner once a week. He’s a good kid.”
“You’re close.” It isn’t a question.
“Well, given the age difference between me and Steve’s mom, he’s more like a brother to me. He’s nineteen going on thirty. Were we that eager to grow up?”
I chuckle and rub her pinky toe. “You always seemed very grown up.” I look up into her green eyes. “You acted so much older than your age.”
“That’s what happens when your parents are middle-aged when they have you, and your siblings have one foot out the door to college.”
But did you ever get to just have fun? I don’t ask it aloud, but I’ve often wondered if Cami is content playing it safe because being responsible was expected of her at such a young age.
The doorbell rings, saving me from my thoughts.
“I’ll get it.”
When I turn, after paying for the food, Cami’s no longer on the couch, but walking back from the kitchen with plates and silverware. We sit in our normal, comfortable silence now, dishing up food and eating until we’re stuffed. When the white boxes are empty and our dishes set aside, I surprise us both by pulling Cami’s feet into my lap and digging my thumb into her arch.
“Oh, sweet Jesus, don’t ever stop doing that.”
I grin and watch as I knead her feet. Upon closer inspection, I see that they’re callused, and despite being nicely painted, they’re a bit of a mess.
“I hate my feet,” she murmurs softly. “They’re rough and callused and horrible.”
“I don’t mind,” I reply honestly. “But you should spoil yourself sometimes and go get one of those froofroo pedicures.”
“I do. But I wear shoes that are bad for me, and I hate socks, so this is what I’m stuck with.” Her eyes slit open to watch me as she shrugs. “I don’t care. My shoes rock.”
“I’ll rub your feet for you anytime you want.”
She grins softly and I want to pull her in my lap and hold on tight. I want to kiss her madly and lay her back on this couch and uncover her body, inch by inch, discovering what makes her moan and what makes her sigh.
I want to do all of the things I’ve fantasized about for longer than I can remember.
Instead, I sigh and pat her ankle, then stand. “I’d better go.”
She stands with me and follows me to the door. “Thank you for dinner. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes.” I turn to her and push her blond hair back over her ear. Scoot is winding his way through my legs, purring. “I did. Thank you for today.”
Before she can push me away, I lean in and press my lips to her forehead, breathing her in, and wanting to stay.
“Are you going to get that last house?”
“If you promise to visit.” I pull back and see her bite her lip, then firm her shoulders.
“I’ll visit.”
I nod and leave her before I do something stupid like scoop her up and take her up to her bedroom to spend the rest of the weekend with her.
She’s not ready for that. I’m not sure I’m ready for that, which shocks the fuck out of me because I’ve never had a problem with carrying a willing woman off to a bed to have my way with her.
But this is Cami, and a fun romp on a mattress isn’t the only thing I want with her. Not that I really know what I want with her.
I do know that she deserves more than a weekend in bed, and the thought of someone else giving it to her makes me crazy.
Chapter 3
~Cami~
What in the ever-loving hell was that?
I stare at my now closed front door, where Landon just left, and frown. This whole day has left me in a big bucket of confusion. I’d done so well all week, not seeking Landon out, keeping busy, truly believing that my girlhood crush was over and under control.
“And then he sought me out,” I say to Scoot as I turn the lights off downstairs and head up to my bedroom. “Today was not my fault. He practically made me go with him to see those houses, and then he just didn’t leave.”
I peel back the covers on my bed and scowl at Scoot, who jumps up and promptly begins giving himself a bath.
“You’re not supposed to be on the bed. Or in my house, for that matter.” No response from the feline, so I shrug, shed my clothes, and get under the covers. Scoot climbs up on my belly and begins to purr.
“What was that kiss about? Like, was he kissing me as a brother? Because it didn’t feel brotherly, but we all know that my hormones are ridiculous around that man.” I reach up to scratch Scoot behind the ears but he lets out a low growl. “Sorry. I won’t touch you. And what was up with him rubbing my feet? My good sense just leaves when he’s around, and suddenly I’m sixteen again. It has to stop, Scoot.”