21. Sloane

CHAPTER 21

SLOANE

T he library’s starting to get busy by the time I arrive, tables filling up with tutors and students preparing for exams. I hustle to the desk and Meg spots me straight away.

“Ms. Mabel’s in the back office, hang on.”

Two minutes later, Ms. Mabel bustles out with my login and password info. She leads me to the main room of the library, over to the bank of computers lining the far wall. A few clicks later, she has the online tutorial pulled up and I slide into a chair to begin.

“Grab me when you’re finished, hun.” She heads back to the Reference desk and I fly through the slides, clicking and answering questions as fast as humanly possible.

Twenty minutes later, I’ve completed the module and can officially begin my employment at the Thunder Creek library.

“All done?” Ms. Mabel asks when I approach the desk.

I nod. “Done.”

“Great. Here’s your name tag—” She hands me a shiny metal name tag and I clip it onto my pale green blouse. “We only have a few days left to get ready for the summer reading program. I need you to cut out the decorations for the bulletin board and print the reading logs. After that, I’ll walk you through the computer program we use here and show you how to check out books.”

“Okay, sounds good.”

I follow her to an empty conference room and she sets me up on the large wooden table, bringing me all the supplies: scissors, construction paper, the patterns for the designs, stencils, tape, and a stapler.

“Here’s what the bulletin board should look like.” She sets a print-out of the design on the table. “Once everything’s cut out, you can go ahead and staple all of it to the bulletin board at the front.”

“No problem, I can do that.”

“I’ll leave you to it then.”

Ms. Mabel disappears and I begin the arduous process of tracing roughly five hundred storm clouds and lighting bolts onto blue, gray, and yellow construction paper. My fingers begin to cramp and my neck aches, but I keep working. A wall clock ticks loudly in the quiet and I start to question this gig.

Hopefully it gets better than this.

After an hour of tracing, I move onto cutting. This part is modestly more enjoyable and my mind wanders as I snip through the thick sheets of paper, drifting to Cam and this afternoon’s activities. How we almost got caught by my dad, how freaked out Cam was.

Which could be a real issue. Because I don’t want to keep our relationship a secret. And in a place as small as Thunder Creek, that task is gonna be nearly impossible anyway. All it takes is one person seeing the two of us holding hands or kissing and our whole cover’s blown.

Is Cam willing to take the risk?

The topic’s definitely something we need to tackle, and sooner rather than later. But my stomach knots thinking about our options. What if he decides he doesn’t want to take the chance? Then what? Should I just ride it out and see where things go?

Maybe I’m overthinking the whole thing. Gracelyn told me to put myself out there and I sure did, in full technicolor glory.

And it was glorious.

But I don’t want it to be a one-off. Surely Cam knows that—but does he feel the same way?

The only surefire way to find out is to have the conversation. But I’m not sure my heart can handle anything but a ‘yes.’

“Hey, baby—how was the library?” My dad’s gaze flicks from the TV screen to me as I walk through the door, the familiar sounds of ESPN filling the cozy room.

“It was good. But my hands are definitely tired.” I massage my right palm, trying to work out the cramp that lodged there two hours ago. “Ms. Mabel put me straight to work decorating the bulletin boards for the kids.”

“Bet it looks real nice. I’ll have to stop by and check it out.”

I smile, thinking of my dad going into the library. I bet he hasn’t set foot in that building since I was ten years old.

“Thanks, Daddy. How was practice?” I crash down on the sofa next to him, kicking my feet up on the coffee table. I don’t specifically ask about Cam, but I’m dying to hear my dad’s assessment.

“Good. The team’s young, but they’re picking things up real quick. Cam helped Langley out today, boosted his confidence.”

My heart hammers harder at the mention of Cam, heat flushing through me. “Really? That’s great.”

“Yeah, that kid’s got real talent. He’s a natural, just needs to find his rhythm. Next week, I’ll have Cam switch and work with Dalton, compare the two. But right now, Langley’s got the top spot.”

“Nice.” I stare at the TV, gnawing at my lip. “How’d things go with the rest of the team?”

“Good. Mack worked with the defense and they’re coming along nicely. He has some new routes he’s trying out.”

“Cool.” I couldn’t care less about Thunder Creek High’s defensive routes. All I really want to know is how Cam did.

“You hungry? We waited on dinner for you.”

“Oh, you didn’t need to do that.”

“I know. But we wanted to.”

It’s weird, hearing my dad use the word ‘we.’ It’s always been the two of us, me and him. Having a third person in the house—even temporarily—feels odd.

“Cam was in the shower. He should be out any second. Go fix yourself a drink.” He shoos me out of the room with a dismissive wave and I do as I’m told, standing and moving to the kitchen.

The table’s set, three plates with forks, knives, and napkins all laid out, and there’s an odd fluttery thing going on in my chest. All the time I was with Ratface—even engaged to the jerk—he never came home with me. Not once. And my father was patently uninterested in inviting him, either, which I should have taken as a ginormous red waving flag.

Cam has his own damn place setting at the table, no questions asked.

Wonder if my dad would feel the same way if he knew what went down in the yard today. Or the hall bath.

I’m guessing not.

“Hey.” Cam’s deep voice startles me out of my thoughts and I jump about a foot in the air.

“Hey.” I spin around and heat floods through me at the sight of him, his hair wet and tousled from the shower. A T-shirt clings to his broad chest, every muscle outlined beneath the tight fabric. I don’t dare drop my eyes lower, knowing full well what lies beneath the mesh shorts. My panties dampen thinking about it.

“How was the library?” His eyes meet mine and the way he looks at me, he’s genuinely interested in my response. A refreshing change from Ratface.

“Good. Kind of fun, although my fingers might be cramped for the next week. Ms. Mabel put me straight to work on the bulletin board and I stenciled and cut out about a thousand lightning bolts.”

“Yikes. Sounds brutal.” Cam reaches out, gripping my hand and pulling it toward him. His eyes flick to my palm, then back up again, his thumb massaging the sore spots. The muscles tighten, then relax beneath his calloused fingers, electricity sparking up my arm at his touch.

“There?” He presses the knot in the center of my palm hard and a low moan falls from my lips.

“Yes, that’s the spot.”

His strong fingers work at kneading the tightness away. Each brush of my skin makes my muscles quiver, heat blossoming low in my belly. His marine gaze is on my face the entire time he rubs my hand and I’m not even certain I’m breathing except for the fact that I’m still alive.

“You kids ready to eat?” My dad’s voice booms behind us and I instantly tense, face flaming. Cam drops my hand like a hot coal straight out of a burning fire and my mouth kicks into gear.

“Yep. Looks great, Dad. Thanks for cooking.” I spin toward the counter, gesturing at the grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans. Anything to avoid eye contact with my dad. Cam stays silent, racing to the table to grab his glass and get as far away from me as possible.

Maybe he didn’t see anything.

I can’t read my dad’s expression, his face blank as he stalks across the tile floor. He brushes past me and plucks the plate of chicken breasts off the beige Formica.

“Guess you’re gonna be busy at the library all summer, huh?” The chicken breasts bounce as the plate thunks down on the table.

“Sort of. The job’s only part-time, in the afternoon and evenings. But it gives me something to do.”

“Good.” My dad’s lips set in a thin, tight line and I swallow hard, throat dry as toast. The air in the kitchen’s heavy, and I don’t dare look at Cam.

“This summer’s shaping up to be real hot. I might have to move practice up earlier. Don’t want the boys getting heat stroke out there.” Dad stabs a piece of chicken, sliding it onto his plate before sawing into the meat. The knife slices back and forth methodically and I try not to squirm.

He knows.

No way. He can’t possibly know about anything that went down this afternoon.

Unless nosy Mrs. Humperdink saw us in the pool and squealed on me, an action that wouldn’t be totally out of character for her.

Play it cool. Innocent until proven guilty and all that.

“Besides the quarterbacks, are there any other positions up for grabs?” I ask.

The question has the desired effect, Dad launching into a long diatribe about all the openings on the team. I tune him out, happy to have diverted the spotlight from me and my summer plans—especially where Cam’s concerned.

Luckily, Cam engages in the conversation and I eat my food without any further interrogation. I’m content to sit back and listen, watch as the two men discuss the high school football team and the prospects for next season. Both of them light up, their voices louder, eyes brighter as they discuss potential plays and who should take which spot. Cam’s more relaxed than I’ve seen him, shoulders loose and his brow smooth.

Dad sets his fork down, pushing his plate away and balling up his napkin.

“I’ve got clean-up, Coach. Thanks for dinner.” Cam stands, stacking all the plates.

“Thanks, son. I’m going to hit the hay, but I’ll see you at practice tomorrow afternoon, if I don’t catch you in the morning.” He yawns, then drops a kiss on the top of my head. “Night, baby. See you tomorrow after work.”

“Night, Daddy.” I smile up at him, trying to look innocent even as my heart hammers at the thought of being alone with Cam again.

“Don’t stay up too late. Cam has a tough practice ahead of him tomorrow.” He wags a finger in our direction and I nod.

“Of course. I’m tucking in as soon as we clear the kitchen. ”

“Okay then.” My dad retreats to his room and breath seeps from my lungs. I stand still for a long minute, listening. But there’s nothing but quiet and I think my dad actually went to bed.

Cam watches me for a second, then turns on the sink faucet and starts rinsing dishes before loading them into the dishwasher.

“Another close call,” I whisper, our arms brushing as I join him at the sink.

He nods. “I know.”

His jaw tenses and a wave of anxiety washes over me, warring with the fiery desire already licking my insides.

I want to move behind Cam, wrap my arms around his broad back and rub and down his flat stomach. Feel the strength in his body, the heat. The arousal when I move my hands lower, dropping down to his hard cock. I want him to spin around, pressing his hips against mine, nuzzle his nose into the soft skin of my neck. Want him to pepper the tender spot with hot kisses, his hand finding my breast, sending ripples of pleasure rolling through me.

Instead, we do the dishes in tense silence. My mind whirs with all the things I should say, how I need to tell him what I want.

But I don’t.

Water splashes in the sink, then gurgles down the drain, silverware clinking into the plastic baskets of the dishwasher as I deposit each fork, each knife, one by one into their slots. Being this close to Cam—knowing how his body feels on mine but not being able to touch him, kiss him—is an exquisite form of torture.

He cuts the water off and dries his hands on the checked dishtowel, his lips a tight line. A shuddery breath rattles his chest and my nerves thrum like the cicadas outside the window, long, low, insistent.

“Want to go outside for a minute?” He tips his head toward the deck.

“Sure.”

I shut the light off, then open the door as slowly as humanly possible. Still, the old wood creaks, the sound loud in the quiet house.

“Shit,” I mutter, making a mental note to WD-40 every door in the whole damn house first thing tomorrow.

Pushing through the screen door, Cam follows behind me, holding the metal handle until the door closes with a whisper.

I sink down onto the deck, kicking my feet out in front of me. Cam joins me, our shoulders rubbing and sending sparks flying through me.

“Nice night.” He tips his face up to the inky sky, glittering with stars.

“Yeah. Not so humid tonight.”

His fingers slide along the outside of my thigh and the knots in my stomach loosen. This afternoon wasn’t a dream.

Inching closer to him, our bodies touch and I swear electricity sparks between us, sending hot pulses straight to my core. I’ve never wanted to be with someone more than I want to be with Cam and it takes every ounce of willpower I possess not to crawl onto his lap and straddle him, grind against his hard cock until my pussy convulses and I come in a rush of ecstasy.

He links his pinky with mine. “Sloane—” His voice is quiet, his tone serious, and I’m nervous all over again. “I like you. A lot. More than I’ve liked anyone in a long time. ”

My breath hitches in my throat, heart pounding. “I like you too. Obviously. You read the email.”

His lips quirk into a smile. “I did. Nicest email I’ve ever gotten.”

I blush, happy that it’s dark and he can’t see my cheeks, which I’m certain are bright red.

“But I can’t make any promises to you. So if you want to stop before we take things further, I get it. My entire future’s up in the air. I might not make it back to the pros, I may not have a job at all. I can’t guarantee you anything right now.” He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Tension creeps back into his face, a V creasing between his brows.

“I know.”

Cam runs his thumb along my jawline, moonlight bathing him in a pale light. He’s so raw, so vulnerable right now, my heart aches for him as we stare into each other’s eyes.

“I liked you before you were a professional football player, you know.”

He sucks in a breath, licking his lips, and the deep buzz of the cicadas hum off in the distance. Leaning in, Cam touches his nose to mine and takes a deep inhale. His exhale’s warm on my lips and he dips in further, his mouth hovering inches from mine. Another inhale, exhale, then our lips touch and my eyes flutter closed as I soak in this perfect moment, a moment I’ve longed for.

A moment I thought would only ever exist in my dreams.

But here we are, together, and I don’t want to move off this deck for fear of shattering this intense feeling shimmering in the air between us.

A dog barks off in the distance and a light flickers from my dad’s room. Reluctantly, I pull away like a high schooler afraid of getting busted with her date.

“We should probably go inside. Bugs.” I swat at an invisible insect buzzing around me.

“Yeah.” Cam stands, extending his hand to me and helping me up. I dust off my butt and shake out my legs, my thoughts as jumbled and confused as ever.