Chapter 3

Three

Cassie

It took everything in me to utter those words. Cam is the ultimate heartbreaker. And maybe he didn't pulverize mine before, but he certainly left it bruised. Taking a chance on him again … it's big. Huge. Terrifying. But I haven't been able to get him out of my head. He's been front and center in there since the second grade for fuck's sake. And our all too brief dating debacle didn't exactly exorcize him. Having that little glimpse of just how good it could be? I'm pretty sure it's no longer cool to say you"re jonesing for something, but cool or not, it's the truth.

"I'm on shift tonight," Cam says. "When are you off again?"

"I'm off till Thursday," I tell him. "Twelve-hour shifts means I only work three days a week."

"Then I'll pick you up tomorrow night. Seven o'clock. And I won't be late," he says solemnly, dragging his finger over his heart in an X. "Promise."

"Don't promise me anything. I can't trust your promises, Cam. We are very much in the ‘I'll believe it when I see it' era." I know I'm being kind of a bitch. But I don't like him thinking I'm some kind of pushover or that I'm desperate. I'd rather be alone than be a doormat. I saw too much of that shit growing up. I'm way more like my Mamaw than my mother and I thank God for that every day. My mother would have sold her soul for any man who was even just polite to her.

"Cass … I know I said it before, but it's worth saying again. I'm sorry. Sorrier than you'll ever know. Me not showing up that night didn't hurt just you."

"I should hope not. I'm worth missing, Cam. Don't you fucking forget it."

With that mic drop, I get in my pink Caddy and drive off. I'm gonna go see Lizzie and get my hair done. I'm gonna get a manicure and a pedicure and a bikini wax and I'm not doing any of that for his benefit. It's for me. All of that shit—it's just armor. And I need all of that I can get.

"I thinka glaze just to boost the shine, and maybe some lowlights underneath with a few money pieces to frame your face."

Lizzie is analyzing me like she's building an atomic bomb. She takes her work seriously and I am eternally grateful for that. I made the mistake of coloring my hair on my own one time. She threatened my life if I ever did it again. Since it turned a muddy, swamp-water brownish green, she was perfectly entitled.

"You are the expert, Lizzie. I put myself firmly in your capable hands," I tell her.

"Speaking of capable hands … heard you had a chat with Cam this morning."

I'm gonna kick Troy James' ass. "How many seconds did it take for your fiancé to spill that particular can of beans? Ten? Twenty?"

"Oh, girl. No. It wasn't even Troy," Lizzie says with a laugh as she drags a brush through my hair and then starts sectioning it with a comb. "Ashley saw you waiting there for him when she was on her way into the lawyer's office."

There are bigger issues than the fits and starts of my dating life. "Is her dad really taking the house?"

Lizzie's lips firm into a thin hard line. "Not taking. Taken. It's a done deal and there"s not shit she can do about it. Her grandma didn't have a will. And now that her uncle has died, there's no one to prevent her dad from selling it off. Naturally, that rat bastard is doing it out of spite because she had the gall to quit working for him when he treated her like shit."

Ashley's father is a full on ass. Honestly, he was more likable when he was still doing drugs and was just a dead beat. Now, he's clean, successful, and smug about everything. That level of narcissism would be impressive if it didn't make him such a pain in the ass. "Where's she going to go?"

"She's got a trailer at Dixie Plaza now. It's a shithole, but me and Troy are helping her fix it up. And Cody. He's been a big help, too."

"I've got a few days off. I'll swing by there and see what I can do. I'm not exactly handy, but I can manage a paint brush or a broom as good as anybody else."

Lizzie gasps. "Don't you fucking dare. That is a fresh manicure, Cassie. You treat it right. Besides, we don't want to hear a peep out of you until after your date with Cam. We're gonna need all the juicy details."

I know Lizzie well enough to know she's not joking. "Let's just hope he shows this time or there won't be any details, juicy or otherwise."

He showed.In a pair of jeans that fit him just right and a dark green sweater that makes his eyes look like the color of a stormy sky. Fuck, he's hot.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," I say, trying to play it cool, which has never been my strong suit. "Where are you taking me, hotshot?"

"I'm letting you make that decision," he said. "I'll drive. I'll pay. I'll dote on your every whim."

Yeah, that all sounds fantastic. And filthy. Because none of my whims are suitable for the public. "Then order a pizza and prepare yourself for a chick flick marathon."

"Not The Notebook. Tell me it's anything but The Notebook," he groans dramatically.

I'm tempted to make him watch it out of spite. "Come on in and find out." I turn and head back into the house, leaving the door open behind me. I'm playing with fire—being alone in my house with him. I can trust Cam not to push for more than I'm willing to give. And that's the real problem. When it comes to him, I can't really trust myself.