Chapter 15

Fifteen

Cassie

I'm watching Cam get ready for work. I know things are still new for us, still evolving as we figure out how to be part of each other's lives. It gives me a flash of the future, of what things could be like for us if he means what he says—he's in it to win it. For me, that means the two of us together, forever. Maybe starting a family one day. But I don't know if that's what winning means to him. Eventually, we have to talk about all that. Bringing it up while he's strapping himself into his bulletproof vest and getting ready to go on shift is not the time. Distractions, arguments, whatever you wanna call them—those things can be deadly in his line of work and mine.

"What's your plan for tonight?" he asks.

"Margaritas," I reply. "Well, a margarita. I feel like if anyone needs to get hammered tonight it's Ashley and Lizzie, well, I owe her one. So I'll have my single drink then be the good girl who gets everyone else home."

He frowns at me. "You're driving Ashley home after?"

"Yeah. Why?" He's acting weird about that.

"That's not an ideal place to be late at night. I don't like her living there. I sure as shit don't like you in and out of Dixie Plaza alone after dark … Call me."

I laugh. "You're gonna give me a police escort?"

"Maybe. At the very least, check in when you're home?"

I get up from the bed and walk over to where he's standing. "Are you worried about me? You're getting ready to go on shift at a job that requires Kevlar and you're worried about me dropping off a probably drunk friend?"

"Dammit, Cass, I'm allowed to worry!"

I lean in and kiss his cheek. "That wasn't me being pissy. Just clarifying. And for the record, I think it's sweet. I like you worrying about me. 'Cause I worry about you, too."

He pulls me in and kisses me until I'm breathless with it. Breathless and wishing we had more time before he has to leave.

When he pulls back, he's looking at me in a way that lets me know he's wishing it too. "We'll finish this when I get off shift. I'm nowhere near done with you."

"Counting on it," I tell him. "Now go. I have to get ready and if you used up all the hot water, I'll make you pay for it."

He shrugs. "That's the risk you take when we don't shower together."

I mutter something under my breath that may or may not be "asshole". But he's laughing as he walks out of the bedroom.

By the time I'm out of the shower, Cam is gone. But there's coffee brewing in the pot that he started for me on his way out. That's the stuff—those little things—are what makes me think we could make it work. He's thoughtful and considerate in ways that I never expected him to be. Certainly in ways that defy his love 'em and leave 'em reputation. Whatever else happens, I have to believe that Cam isn't just playing with me. Whether it works out or whether it doesn't, I know he really cares.

Cares.

That's really the heart of it all. Does he care for me, or does he love me? I know where my emotions stand with him. It's the same place they've always stood. I love him, both the idealized version of him that lived in my mind for so long and, maybe even more so, the very real version of him that I've been experiencing on the daily for the last month.

"Stop overthinking shit," I tell myself as I pour my coffee and add the hazelnut creamer that I love.

Three hours later,with Ashley and Lizzie one pitcher of margaritas deep, I've eaten more chips and salsa than I should have and the fajitas that I ordered are sitting all but untouched in front of me. We've been too busy talking, laughing and prying relationship details out of one another. Not that anyone has to pry with Lizzie.

"Let's just say I have a great appreciation for Troy's cuffs," she says and then dissolves into giggles. Yeah, she's lit up like a Christmas tree. "You'll find out, Cassie. Just you wait."

Neither of those mouthy heifers needs to know I've already found out about the multiple uses for handcuffs. I'm just gonna eat my chips and not say a word.

Ashley and Lizzie have started in on the second pitcher when the reinforcements show up. Emma and Cody walk in and make a beeline for us.

"So my ex-husband and soon to be brother-in-law called and asked us to pick up this lush," Emma says, helping herself to a chip. "JT's with him and he's got a couple of the guys over to have a marathon gaming session of whatever the hell it is that just came out this week."

"Wow," Cody supplies.

Every eye turns to him. This is not a man who looks like he ought to know crap about video games.

As if sensing our surprise, he just shrugs. "The kid gets it from somewhere."

And no one can argue that still unbelievably awkward point. "I take it Troy sent you to make sure they got home safe because Cam asked him to. Didn't he?"

Emma nods in answer to my question. "You better believe it. I don't know what you've done to that poor boy, Cassie, but it might just be the making of him. Now, Lizzie, Ashley, get in the SUV. Anybody pukes in it, you're paying to have it detailed. You okay to drive?"

"Yeah. I just had one … about two hours ago," I reply. "And I'm gonna order some food for Cam and drop it by the office."

"Mmm hmm," Lizzie says then laughs. "You better watch it, Cassie. You get him used to that and he'll expect it all the time."

And that would be bad because? I like spoiling Cam. I like the fact that we might become such fixtures in one another's lives that we can have expectations of one another. But I know that Cam has a reputation. One he's done everything in his power to earn.

When my to-go order of four street tacos is ready, I head out to my car and make the short drive to the Sheriff's Office. It's late, nearly ten. By this time most places in Bellehaven have shut down and the streets are all but deserted. But when I pull up and park on the street out front, I notice a car that shouldn't be there. I know whose car that is. Lucy. Lucy Fucking Carpenter. That's who is parked out front and if she's not in her vehicle then that means she's probably inside with Cam.

Opening the outer door, I see Cam standing behind the counter behind the bulletproof glass. And standing way too close to him is Lucy. In fact, she's close enough that when she leans over to show him something, her surgically enhanced boobs are pressed right up against Cam's arm. And he doesn't move away.

I stand there for the longest time, feeling like a complete idiot. And then Cam looks up. The minute our eyes lock his expression shifts. I know that look. Guilt. I've seen it on enough people in my life, and him too, to recognize it a mile away.

"Cass …"

Lucy looks at me and there's something in her gaze that makes it all start to make sense. Triumph. Calculation. I know why she's here. She's here because Jenna is her best friend and I'm Jenna's worst enemy, or at least that's how Jenna sees it. Cam is nothing more for her than a means to an end. And I'm not about to give it to her.

"Cam. Lucy. I knew you'd be working late and I wanted to make sure you had something good for lunch before everything closes up tonight," I say. I look pointedly at Lucy, "Unfortunately, I didn't bring enough for everyone."

"Lucy was just leaving," Cam says, all but shoving the blonde dispatcher out of the reception area. "Come on in, Cass."

"No. I'll just leave your dinner here. It's late and I need to get home. But we'll talk soon," I tell him, and I let that sound as much like a threat as his conscience interprets it to be.

I make it all the way to my car without crying. And even when I slide behind the wheel to drive home to the house that is permanently marked by his presence, only one slides down my cheek before I dash it away. I've cried over him enough already. I'll be damned if I do it again.