Something in Cam’s expression softened. “It’s pretty popular. And you’re right, some of the work is amazing.” Cam’s nose wrinkled and he leaned in and said quietly, “And some of it’s trash. But there’s always some Flatlander who needs a cookie plate made from a hubcap.”
My brow creased. “Flatlander?”
“If you don’t know what it is, you are one,” Cameron said and smiled—a real smile, one that made his eyes crease at the corners and a dimple appear in one cheek. I liked it, but I especially liked that it was directed at me.
“I’m choosing not to ask any further questions,” I said, matching his grin with one of my own. “Have you ordered yet?” I indicated the laminated menu sitting on the table.
“Not yet,” Cameron said. “I’m still waiting on the server.”
Well, if this wasn’t a perfect opportunity to show him I was a decent guy. “Let me buy you dinner?”
His brow creased. “Why?”
“As an apology for running into you twice? A thank you for sharing your table? Because I’m a nice person?” I picked up the menu and gestured with it. “Pick one.”
Cameron blinked like someone being nice to him was a foreign concept, but in the end he nodded and his smile returned. “Thank you.”
I counted it as progress. When the server finally arrived we ended up ordering burgers and fries, and while we waited I said, “So have you always lived here?”
“Yep. My mom used to do Sherri’s job, so I spent a lot of time at the library as a kid,” he said. He sighed, and a shadow passed over his features. “I miss her. My dad too.”
“Oh,” I said cautiously. “They’re… not with you anymore?”
Cameron’s brows dipped in confusion, and then his face cleared and he let out a soft laugh. “Her and my dad moved to Florida. They got sick of the cold.”
Oh, thank fuck.I was great at wedding chatter but not so much the dead parent talk, so I was happy I’d dodged that particular bullet.
“And you didn’t go with them?” I asked. “Like, you weren’t tempted to leave town?”
He looked at me like I’d suggested he grow an extra leg, and his smile vanished. “Why would I leave here? What’s wrong with Sugar Hollow?” he demanded, his voice slightly too loud.
“Nothing!” I said, glancing around to make sure nobody else had heard. No such luck—the couple in the next booth were glaring at me, and the lady at the table alongside us was regarding me with pursed lips. I’d forgotten how weirdly territorial small-town people could be. It was okay for the residents to make fun of where they lived, but an outsider mentioning that some of their customs were a little quirky? That was pistols at dawn.
Like, I didn’treallythink those stories about small towns where strangers disappeared, coincidentally at the same time as a community barbecue, were true—but I wasn’t exactly eager to test that theory either.
“I love it here! Sugar Hollow’s great!” I insisted loudly, plastering on a manic smile to show just how great I thought the town was.
The glares subsided somewhat, and I found I could breathe again.
“Then why ask if I want to leave?” Cameron asked, thankfully more quietly this time.
I ran a hand through my hair, accidentally dislodging my beanie.
I was naturally charming, dammit! It shouldn’t be this hard to make friends with a librarian. Unless he only read murder mysteries and true crime novels. That might explain his suspicious nature. “Honestly, I was just making conversation. I’m trying to get to know you. That’s how conversations work, Cameron. If you’d prefer, we can talk about baking.” I paused and asked what I thought was a harmless question. “What are you making for the gingerbread competition?”
His brow creased again, his expression grew thunderous, and I barely had time to wonder what I’d said before he snapped, “Wait. Is that what this is about? You think I’ll tell you what I’m planning for the competition and then you’ll build the same thing, only bigger and better? That’s one way to win, I guess.”
What thefuck?
So much for making a good impression. Cameron always seemed determined to think the worst of me, but this was insulting on a whole new level. As if Ineededany help to win.
It stung that he thought I’d pull a stunt like that, and more than that, my professional pride was wounded—which probably explained why I let my mouth run away with me.
I glared at him and said, “I ask you a simple question, and your take is that you think I need help to out-bake youandyou think I’m the kind of guy who’s desperate enough to cheat?Jesus, Cameron. Are you sure you’re not describing yourself? Because you’re the one who sounds desperate right now.”
Okay, maybe I was overreacting. But I’d hoped that Cameron and I could at least be friends, and now that he’d turned out to be a fully fledged jerk, the disappointment ran deeper than I was expecting.
Cameron’s mouth dropped open and he flinched like I’d struck him. “What? No! I’m not—that’s not?—”
