Chapter 5

Five

Cassie

"You promised me deets."

I look up to see Lizzie barreling down on me while I stand in the middle of the aisle at the IGA trying to decide between the Fruity Pebbles I want and the Special K I ought to have. No way am I gonna tell her—right here in the middle of the grocery store—that I humped Cam's leg like my great aunt"s chihuahua.

"There are no details, Lizzie. He came over. We watched a movie. He left," I tell her.

"Umm hmm. Is that why he"s been an absolute devil today? Troy says if you look at him sideways, he snaps at you like Cujo!"

I shrug. "I'm not his keeper, his therapist, or his girlfriend. It was one date." That ended with me having quite possibly the best orgasm of my life with the least amount of work that has ever been put into it.

Lizzie's perfectly arched and tinted eyebrows go up. "Seems like he's not the only one in a foul mood today. And there's only one thing that explains it … blue balls. Well, his blue balls and the female equivalent, whatever the hell you want to call it. Sexual tension. Unresolved sexual tension."

Behind me, I hear a gasp. I turn around and see one of the church ladies glowering at us. And not just any church lady but a "skirt to her ankle and hair halfway to heaven" kind of church lady who's glowering at us. I turn back to Lizzie. "Do you think we could shelve this conversation before every last person in Bellehaven is praying for me to repent my sinful ways?"

"They're just jealous. The last time that old biddy felt sexual tension, or sexual anything for that matter, dinosaurs were still roaming the earth."

I'm laughing in spite of my embarrassment. That's Lizzie in a nutshell. Her mouth is as unpredictable as a tornado and mean enough to do that much damage. "Look, we made out like a couple of teenagers, but I'm not ready to take it any further than that. Not till I know he's not gonna get spooked again."

Lizzie takes the box of Special K out of my hands and puts it back on the shelf. Then she drags the box of Fruity Pebbles off it and tosses it in my cart. "Live dangerously, Cass. With more than just your cereal choices. Trust me on this. If you don't take the leap, you'll never get to fly."

Lizzie waves and sashays off with the same kind of flare she does everything. God, I envy her that supreme confidence that oozes out of her. And it's paid off. She and Troy might have had a soap‐opera worthy beginning, but their ending is gonna be one for the storybooks. I've never seen two people who are so imperfectly perfect for one another. Their flaws and strengths create a kind of harmony that's enviable.

I want that. I want that in my life.

The real question is, can Cam be the one to give me that?

I'm loadingthe groceries into the front floorboard on the passenger side. It"s a habit as much as anything. When this behemoth belonged to my Mamaw, the backseat was always full of makeup samples and all the necessary items to sell however much Mary Kay was required to earn her another caddy.

But while I'm hunkered down by the car, the scene is just wrong. Something about what I'm seeing through the car windows bugs me. Brandon.

My ex fiancé and I parted on pretty good terms, honestly. His family is still a dicey situation, but he and I can be civil to one another. It's not about avoiding an ugly or awkward situation, though. Brandon is getting into a car with Joe Stevens, a known drug dealer and older brother of the man who nearly killed Troy. That whole family is nothing but trouble. Kyle will be in prison for a good long time, but that doesn't mean the rest of them can't stir shit up for everyone else. And if Brandon is in deep enough to be sitting in the front seat of Joe's car with him, that can only mean trouble.

After they leave, I climb behind the wheel and start driving. I can't tell Lizzie or Troy. I don't even want to mention anyone with the name Stevens in their vicinity. So that leaves one option.

When I pull up in front of Cam's house with all my groceries still on the floorboard, I start second guessing myself. They were having a conversation. That's all. And being a shitty human being isn't really a crime. But it still doesn't sit right. Something is up and someone needs to look into it—someone who isn't Troy.

I put the car in park, and my hand is on the door's lever when all the doubts creep in. It's a mistake. He's gonna break my heart. And before he does that, he's going to literally ruin me for all other men. Like he hasn't already, chicken shit.

I've halfway convinced myself to turn tail and run, when a knock on the passenger side window makes me jump out of my skin. I whip my head around and see Cam looking in the window with a grin. I hit the button to roll it down and immediately start giving him hell. "You just took ten years off my life! Do not sneak up on me!"

"Are you stalking me, Miss Mitchell?"

I roll my eyes at him. "Yeah. That's exactly what I'm doing. Why don't you file for that restraining order and see who gets laughed out of town." Even as I'm giving him shit, I'm drinking in every detail. He's obviously been for a run. There isn't an ounce of fat on Cam. Another reason why I should have said no to the goddamn Fruity Pebbles. I'm gonna get naked with Mr. Men's Health while everything on me jiggles and wobbles. But he likes the jiggly bits, I remind myself. And if that tentpole in his pants the other night was any indication, he likes them a lot.

"Spill it, Cass. You wouldn't be here without a damn good reason."

"You. I'm here to see you … mostly because I saw something that worries me."

"What's that?" he asks with a frown.

"Brandon. In a car with Joe Stevens. And it looked like they were arguing."

Cam's expression shifts. It's a subtle thing, but I can see that he's taking it in, mulling it over. "I'll check things out. But that's not a crime."

"I know … it just … well, it was weird. And with everything that's happened, it can't possibly be good."

He nods. "You're right about that … but you could have called me for that, Cassie. I mean, you're the best damn looking stalker I've ever had, but?—"

"I'm not a stalker! I just showed up unannounced," I protest. Then I get pissy. If that makes me look like a level ten psycho clinger, I'll happily take myself home and never bother you again just to prove you wrong. I'm petty like that."

His eyes darken and he leans into the car. "For the record, I never said I minded it. You can stalk me anytime you want … Now why don't you tell me why you're really here, Cass?"

"I didn't like how we left things the other night," I say, being intentionally vague.

"We left things just fine," he comes right back at me. "It didn't go any further than you wanted it to and I'm going to be as patient as you need me to be."

"I don't think patience is what I want from you, Cam." Admitting that scares me half to death. But he's got this power over me whether I want to admit it or not, so I might as well go all in and stop denying myself the thing I want most just because it might not be forever.

He leans in a little more, just enough to lift the grocery bags out of the floorboard. "Come on in. We'll talk about it … or maybe we're both done talking for a while. Ball's in your court."

Yeah. I know. And I'm getting ready to toss a Hail Mary pass straight to the end zone.

Getting out of the car, I lock it up and then walk the few steps to Cam's front door which he's left standing wide open for me.

It's not the first time I've been in Cam's house. But it strikes me again how sparse it is. No knickknacks. No trophies. No pictures. It's just … sterile. Everything about it looks staged, like the realtor just walked out the door. "You don't believe in the personal touch, Cam? Jesus. How long have you lived here?"

He shrugs as he's pulling items out of the grocery bags and putting them in his fridge. He's obviously planning on me staying for a while. Since that gels perfectly with what I want, I don't say a word about it.

"I'm not really into decorating," he says. "I've lived here for three years now, and it still feels temporary. I don't know why."

"Because it's empty. Homes don't just make themselves, Cam. You have to put your stamp on it if you want it to be yours."

"Does that apply to everything, Cass? You, for instance."

"Nope. If I'm yours, babe, it's because I choose to be … not because you claimed me like a fucking neanderthal."

He holds up the box of Fruity Pebbles. "Clearly cavemen are your type."

I laugh. I can't help it. This is the dangerous part. Wanting him is one thing. But these quiet moments where he makes me laugh, where he makes me—no, where I let myself—think we could have a future, that's where the real danger lies. "I'm particular about my breakfast foods. I figured you ought to know that before I spend the night."

"Are you? Spending the night, that is."

"That depends on you," I tell him. "I'm here because I want you to take me to bed. How long I stay … well, that's still up for negotiations."

He puts the rest of the groceries in the pantry and then stalks toward me. In every romance novel I've ever read, that's how it's described. But I've never seen it up close and in person. I've never felt more hunted and more like I want to be caught. As he gets closer to me, I can read the intent in his eyes—to claim, to devour, to conquer. And the heat. The heat in his gaze is unmistakable. I take a step back. It's not because I'm afraid of him, but because I need to catch my breath. That look in his eyes is way more intense than I expected.

In two long strides, he's caught up to me. There's no more talking. No more joking around. He slides one hand around to the nape of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair and tugging my head back with just enough force to make it hot, wild, and a little dangerous.

"You're not ready for me to tell you how long I want to keep you in my bed. But we'll start with the night. I want you, Cass. I want to touch you and taste you until you're half-crazy with it and begging me to fuck you … but first, I need a shower. I'm too goddamn sweaty and gross to even touch you, but I can't help myself."

"You want some company in there?"

"You wet and naked? I'd have to be a fucking idiot to say no to that … but you spend the night here, especially with that pink Caddy out front, people will know. They'll know and they'll talk. You ready for that?"

"No. But I'm less ready to walk out that door without getting what I want … and for the record, Cam, that's you. I'm done talking until we're both naked."

I let out a squeal of surprise as he picks me up. He's literally packing me to the bathroom on his shoulder in a fireman's carry. It's not exactly romantic, but it's a hell of a view. His ass is perfection.