Vince walked into the small-town burger joint and got into line to order. It had been a long day—a long several days—while he worked himself to exhaustion. Still, he couldn’t get over the betrayal he’d seen in Cami’s eyes when he’d told her he wasn’t just one step up from a bum.
He rubbed his neck and glanced around to see if he recognized anyone, and stopped short when his eyes landed on Cami.
She sat alone at a window booth, her auburn curls pulled back at the nape of her neck. She wore what she probably thought of as casual clothes—a blouse and dress pants. A burger, fries and shake sat in front of her. Either she’d just gotten them, or she wasn’t interested in food, because they’d barely been touched. She had her phone out and studied something on it.
He considered getting his dinner to go, or if he stayed, sitting in the corner where she wouldn’t see him. Then she turned and stared out the window at the parking lot, her face reflected back, blank and sad, and he couldn’t do it. No matter what she’d thought of him, or what she’d said, he couldn’t stand to see that despair. His feelings for her already ran too deep.
As soon as he ordered, he walked over, sitting across from her in the booth. “Hey. Are you still fuming at me?” He’d thought he was mad at her, but he couldn’t carry it off. Not right now.
Her eyes closed, making him wonder if she’d known he was there before he’d seen her, or if she was too numb to respond.
“I don’t know what I am anymore.” She held her breath, her face averted. “What do you want?”
Vince slid a hand over one of hers that sat limp on the table. “Cami, are you okay? Do you need to talk?” He threaded his fingers through hers when she didn’t pull away, but she didn’t react to his familiarity, either. “Do you want to go somewhere else?”
“Talk?” She shrugged. “What difference would it make?”
They called his number at the front counter. He stood. “I’m going to grab my dinner to go and I’ll take you back to my place. You look done in, and we can talk about whatever’s on your mind.” It worried him, this listless unconcern. It was as if she didn’t care what happened. He’d rather see her eyes snapping with anger. When his unilateral decision failed to draw a response from her, he knew it was serious.
He asked the kid at the counter to bag his food and got a cup carrier, packaging Cami’s dinner to go as well. When he took her elbow, she grabbed her purse and followed him without argument, climbing into his truck with little encouragement.
Worry zinged through him and he wondered if she was physically sick and not just upset. As soon as he pulled onto the road, he asked. “Is someone hurt? Are you ill? Have there been more articles? What’s wrong?”
She shrugged. “Nothing and everything.” A tear trickled down her cheek.
He hated when women cried. Nothing panicked him like tears. “Hey, don’t. You can’t cry over nothing. You said it was nothing.” He pushed harder on the gas, anxious to get home, racking his brain, trying to come up with some way to stop the tears.
He was grateful his house was close as he pulled the truck into the driveway and tossed it into park. He hurried around to her side, opening the door, but she just sat there. “Come on, baby, do you hear the dogs? They know I’m home and are getting worked into a frenzy.”
When he tugged on her hand, Cami followed after him, bringing her purse and the burgers as he asked her to, but she still didn’t speak. She wiped at a tear streaking down her cheek and sniffled.
“The dogs are shut in the back yard. They won’t knock you over, no matter how much they want to.” They could wait a few minutes. He found himself jabbering nonsense, hoping it would stop her tears. He set the food on the kitchen counter, stashed their shakes in the freezer, and led her back to the living room, sitting beside her on the sofa. “Okay, tell me what happened.”
“Nothing. Nothing happened.” Sniff. “Nothing new; just new to me. Why does it all have to change?” The tears came fast and fevered now and Vince hurried to scrounge up the box of tissues his mother had brought him when he had the flu. He pressed a wad into her hands and pulled her into his chest. She snuggled there as if she belonged, felt right in his embrace. He pushed the thought away, focusing on what she needed instead.
Cami started to talk, babbling as much as anything, but he was able to piece it together. He learned only a small part of her doldrums had to do with their confrontation three days earlier. He caught bits about music on too loud, people everywhere, Lana keeping secrets, George betraying them all, and the inevitable accusations that he’d lied and let her think he was a regular guy.
He wondered what she’d think if he told her he was a regular guy. A degree from Cornell and his various business interests didn’t take away the fact that he worked hard with his hands every day, that he’d rebuilt his car engine twice with the help of friends, or that the feel of her in his arms, even weepy and blowing her nose, did things to his system.
He soothed and patted and whispered nonsense, doing anything he could think of to calm her. The sobbing stopped, the shaking slowed, and her hand slid from where it had rested on his chest to trace his collar bone, up the side of his neck, and along the side of his jaw. Her scent surrounded him, the silkiness of her skin made him hyper aware of their proximity. When she tipped her face up to him, he found himself drawn to the offer of her lips. He’d been aching to hold her for days, to clear the air between them. Though there was still too much left unspoken, he took what she offered and gave it back in return.
The kiss started soft and tentative, but grew in strength until it became something else entirely. He lost himself in the kiss, in the wicked fluidity of her mouth, the eagerness with which she dove into it. That was, until he realized she was tugging on his T-shirt.
Though just being close to her threw his libido for a loop, and the movement of her hands on his chest made it all worse, he covered her hands and stopped them. He kissed her for a moment more before he was able to slow it down, then finally pull back, his better judgment kicking in against his preferences. “Whoa, slow down, honey. Slow down.” She was not in any place emotionally to make those kinds of decisions and they had too many misunderstandings between them to go there tonight. When her lips landed on his neck and she hummed against his skin, it was all he could do to keep his resolve. “Hold off, sweetheart. You don’t want to do that right now. Come on.” He shifted back, his hand on her shoulders.
Her fists clenched and she pushed away, pushed him. “How do you know what I want or don’t want? Who died and made you king?” She stood, but drilled a sharp finger into his chest. “Just because Daddy approved of you doesn’t make you my keeper.”
“I never said it did. Gees, that hurts!” He grabbed her hand so she would stop poking him. “Calm down.” But he was relieved to see the show of temper. It was much easier to deal with Cami mad than weepy or half comatose.
“Don’t tell me to calm down. Do you think I like having people run my life for me? First Lana finds out about Dad’s extracurricular activities, and decides to keep it to herself. Then after he dies I learn about my four extra sisters; he does his utmost to turn my life upside down—have you ever lived with five women? I’m telling you, even with our own rooms and bathrooms, it’s not a pretty sight. And that’s with Mrs. Grady coming in to clean up and make a meal three times a week. What are we, anyway, helpless?” She gave his shoulder a shove, though there wasn’t much heat behind it.
“No, of course not.” He didn’t know what else to say. Not everything she said made sense, but her actions were helping him clear his mind and focus on the issues between them.
“And,” she went on as if he hadn’t spoken, “Dad starts pulling strings to get us together, putting a bug in your ear about how much alike we are, making you wonder what’s wrong with me. I think you’re this strong, sexy, hardworking type who’s absolutely nothing like the last guy I dated—though you’re exactly the kind of guy he threatened I’d end up with, or at least I thought you were. He was sure I’d catch a loser in the end, and you didn’t end up being one, and Lana decides it’s time to come clean about knowing about Dad for years.”
“Hold on,” Vince interrupted, fury racing through him. “What do you mean I didn’t end up being a loser? You said you didn’t think your dad would like me, but you didn’t say you thought I was a loser when you agreed to join my family for the Fourth. You have a lot of nerve. Nobody’s slumming when they go out with me.”
She took a step back, held up her hands, took a slow breath. “No kidding. I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant.”
“So what did you mean?” He stood to face off with her. How could he have such strong feelings for someone who thought he was a loser?
She turned away and raked both hands through her curls and he realized she’d lost her elastic at some point. After a moment, she turned back, much calmer. “I didn’t think you were a loser. You had a steady job, and Dad had hired you, so you obviously knew what you were doing. He didn’t suffer fools. I just . . . I thought I was getting away from his maneuvering. And then it turned out I fell right back into his plans when we started dating. You were exactly the guy he wanted for me, the one I’ve searched for, despite the slightly different packaging than I’d expected.”
“What’s wrong with my packaging?” The fury was gone, but confusion and irritation were still wildly abundant. Did she realize she’d said he was what she wanted? Had he imagined it?
She looked him up and down. “Oh, nothing, I promise.”
For some reason her frank appraisal embarrassed him and he set his hands on his hips as the anger and irritation deserted him. “So what’s the deal?”
She turned and paced across the room, then came back. “I don’t know what to do with you, Vince. I don’t know what to do with myself when I’m around you, and I feel things for you I’ve never felt before, and that scares the crap out of me.”
He rubbed his stomach where her words had sent his insides twisting. “Well, now we’re even.” When she lifted an inquiring brow, he clarified. “I’ve had relationships, but there was no falling in love. Attraction, the excitement that comes at the beginning of a new relationship, yes, but not love—if that’s what I’m even feeling. I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with all of this so soon.”
The woman had to be schizophrenic or something to flip flop from one emotion to the next so fast. He was going to get whiplash if she didn’t slow down. But was he any better? His anger had never peaked and melted away so fast before.
“I guess there’s no rush.” She let out a shaky breath and forced a smile. “How about if we reheat those burgers and eat. I’m starved.”
“Okay, fine.” Bewildered, he followed her through the house to the kitchen.