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“You look great,” he comments. “I love that dress.”
I smile. “You can have it when I’m done. I think it will really make your eyes pop.”
How in the world I can say that without laughing is beyond me.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” he murmurs.
“I was expecting you to be in something a little more…feminine,” I tease.
He chuckles and pats the bag he’s carrying.
“Don’t worry. It’s all in here. As if I’m going to walk out of here wearing a dress,” he grumbles. “Can you imagine if Lewis saw me?”
I giggle at the mental picture that’s popping into my head.
I know a twelve-year-old that would pay good money to see that.
I shiver when he slips his hand into mine and leads me down to the elevators. The whole ride down to the basement, I pretend not to notice how Cam can’t keep his eyes off me. If it wasn’t for the man sharing the space with us, I’m not sure he could’ve contained himself. I catch his eye and smile at him, loving how worked up he is.
“We can take my car, if you like?” I suggest.
I’m paranoid about Jim coming over to see Cam and finding my car out the front.
Cam shrugs. “Okay.”
We walk out the front, where my car is conveniently located right over the other side of the road. Cam frowns as we approach it. I laugh, because I get the feeling he’s regretting saying yes to this. His frown intensifies as I kick open my door to unlock it.
“Are you sure this is going to get us there?” He asks. Then he hesitates. “And back.”
I chuckle. “She goes fine. Better than yours at the moment,” I add with a grin. “You wanna see how a real car handles?” I ask, tossing him the keys. Looking at his horrified expression, you’d think I just asked him if he could fit two fingers inside his anus.
“If this is a real car, then we’re both fucked,” he mutters.
I roll my eyes at how dramatic he’s being. Sure, it might not be as fancy as his Rover, but it more than does the job.
“I think you owe my car an apology,” I say when we pull into a spot outside the restaurant twenty minutes later.
“An apology,” he repeats, amused. “Care to explain why?”
“Because you doubted her abilities to get us here.”
“I did,” he agrees. “Just as I’d doubt the abilities of a severely intoxicated person to walk in a straight line. More often than not, they’ll fail, but when one manages to fluke it, you don’t jump up and down cheering for them.”
I roll my eyes. “I think secretly you’re much more impressed than you’re letting on.”
He goes to get out, but then he stops to look at me when I clear my throat. My eyes dart toward his bag and I smile. He laughs, and rubs his jaw, while I get out of the car to give him some privacy. I shake my head, because I think he’s really doing it. I turn around when the door opens.
“There,” he murmurs. “Satisfied?”
I smile at him, using every bit of my strength to stop that smile from turning into a full on laughing fit. Because the sight of Cameron Hunter, wearing a cute little floral dress in public is too much. Maybe the joke is really on me, because not laughing at this is fucking torture.
“You look really nice,” I say, taking his hand.
“Thanks,” he grins. “I even shaved my legs.”
I look down.
Oh god. He did.
Is that all he shaved? My face heats at the thought.
“Yes.”
I look up at him, alarmed. “Pardon?”
“If you’re wondering if that’s all I shaved, the answer is yes.”
I smile at him as we walk into the restaurant. He looks at me nervously.
“What, have I got something my teeth?”
I chuckle. “No, it's more the cute little dress your wearing. For what it's worth, I'm really proud of you,” I say. “I love that you got the confidence to walk in here wearing what you want to because it's who you are,” I smile at him. “There’s nothing sexier than a chick with balls,” I add with a giggle.
I see a flicker of something in his eyes, but then he smiles at me. He’s about to say something when a waiter approaches us. He doesn’t say anything, it’s like he sees this every day. He barely blinks as he leads us to a table. I love how laid-back this place is just like the reviews said, because as much as I want Cam to break, I don't want to be because he feels uncomfortable. I want him to break, because he feels bad about lying to me.
But aren’t I doing the same thing, lying to him?
“So…” I say.
He chuckles. “Why do I feel like you want to burst into laughter every time you look at me?”
