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Immediately, Cam goes into selfie mode. Arm on the console, head angled toward the center of the vehicle next to mine, he cups his chin and grins. He looks…gah. He looks gorgeous. Sexy. Arrogant. Rich. All the things girls love. I snap the picture and upload it to Instagram along with the other three I’ve taken.
Once David Michael was finished transforming me into the most beautiful human on the planet, I’d called Ross to come get me. He was with Mr. Swagger. So it was Cam who showed. I’m so glad he did. My followers are going to eat his ass up.
“So…you like?” I gesture with my hand over my face and hair.
“You know I do.”
True. He had whistled at me when he walked in. Acted interested when I showed off my long lashes, fancy hair and waxed underarms. Twirled me several times like I was wearing a ball gown and heels instead of the bathrobe and slippers the spa provided. He’d grinned from ear to ear and said, “Country ain’t so country no more,” in his best attempt at a southern drawl.
That was ten minutes ago.
This is ten minutes later.
And I’m needy.
“Am I prettier than the other Miss Sims? Huh? Am I? Am I?” I tease, wiggling my eyebrows at him.
He laughs. “I can honestly say that you are very different from all the others.” He lets me stew a second on that before adding, “And much, much prettier.”
I was only teasing, but Cam’s response is genuine. And I flush from the compliment. David Michael did a great job on my hair and makeup, but I still look like me. Anyone who knows me would recognize me immediately. That makes the compliment from Cam even more rewarding. But it doesn’t have the same effect on me as Jake’s opinion. Speaking of him….
“When is Jake going to be back?”
“Not sure. He was in a shit mood when he left so my best guess is, something went wrong at the office.”
“Isn’t he always in a shit mood?”
Cam smirks. “Only on days that end in y.” We come to a dead stop in traffic and Cam shifts to face me. “He’s not happy about this…arrangement. Partly because he doesn’t like you for what you did and partly because he doesn’t have control over the situation. He got backed into a corner and taking you was his only option.”
“He doesn’t like me?”
“He doesn’t like what you did.”
“You said he doesn’t like me.”
“For what you did.”
“Same thing, Cam.”
“No it’s not, Penelope. So stop frowning.”
Jake doesn’t like me.
Of course he doesn’t like you, idiot.
This sucks.
This is your punishment.
I’d rather have a spanking.
The night is young.
“You know, me going to this party isn’t the only option. He could always go alone.”
“That will never happen. If Jake, one of the most eligible bachelors in Chicago, walks into the room without a woman on his arm, he might as well wear a sign above his head that says, ‘rich, successful, single man looking for a one-night stand.’ Plus, his grandfather insists he has a date.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “That’s just the way he is. He says these events are for networking with clients, not getting your dick wet. And bringing a date with you helps eliminate distractions. Crazy talk if you ask me. Getting my dick wet is the only reason I go.”
I picture Cam’s dick in my head. Then feel guilty about it.
After all, he is my best friend’s future boyfriend.
But I keep picturing it.
And it’s…nice.
I need a distraction.
“So, tell me about tonight. What can I expect?”
“To be envied by every woman. Hit on by every man. Scrutinized by every employee of Swagger Corp. Disapproving looks from gramps. A moody Jake. Nosey reporters…” He shoots me a smile. “Sounds fun, doesn’t it?”
“No. It sounds terrible. Will there be anything good at this party?”
“Duh. Me. And alcohol.”
I laugh. “Yeah. I’m sure grandfather will love that. Me getting drunk, grabbing the mic and staggering on stage to tell corny jokes in between hiccups that make me sound like a donkey.”
“You do have an interesting hiccup sound.”
“I have some pretty badass dance moves too.”
“I have no doubt that you do. And you’ll need them.” Our conversation is interrupted by his phone. He presses a button on the steering wheel. “Yes, Mr. Swagger?”
The shuffle of papers and the sound of drawers opening and closing fills the car. Then Jake speaks and my heart does that pitter patter thing in my chest. “Where are you?”
“Almost back at your place.”
“She with you?”
“She is.”
“And?”
“And…what?”
“How does she look?”
Cam winks at me. “I have no doubt she’ll be the Belle of the ball.”
Jake grunts. “Until she opens her mouth.”
That peckerhead….
“Is this the part where you promise to fill it if I don’t keep it closed?” I ask, much more blasé than I actually feel.
The only sound coming from the other end of the call is Jake’s breathing. No words. No background noise. No grunts of disapproval. Just deep, heavy breaths that I wouldn’t notice if I wasn’t listening so hard for his reaction. Or if Cam’s Bluetooth speakers were not state of the art.
