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Cam nodded, and we continued on our way. Eyebrow raised, I glanced at him. “Would you have given him money if I weren’t here?”
“No,” he said without hesitation.
I huffed in disbelief. “So, that was you showing off?”
“No,” he said more softly. “It was you making me better.”
My steps halted, and I turned, speechless.
“Remember when you asked me for proof that you’re better than everyone else?” he said.
I almost laughed, remembering that awkward first reunion. “Yeah.”
He pointed at the man. “There’s proof.”
Then I did laugh—in disbelief more than anything—and his eyes glinted.
He held his pastry toward my mouth. “Want a bite?”
I leaned forward to accept his offering. The flaky sweetness saturated my tongue, and as I chewed, his gaze dropped to my lips. He lifted a hand to brush away a drop of honey, then sucked it off the tip of his finger.
“You want me to show you how you’re supposed to drive that car?” he asked.
A grin stretched across my face.
He grabbed my hand. “Come on.”
Thirty-Four
Booboo frowned at me when I settled into my desk on Monday. “You sure you’re feeling better? I don’t want to catch nothin’.”
“I’m much better, thank you.”
The coffee on my desk flaunted the same cute hand-drawn honeybee, but the pièce de résistance was the Anne’s Bakery blueberry muffin sitting beside it.
The man was making it very difficult not to fall in love with him. I’d commanded my heart to harden itself, but it was melting into a puddle at an alarming rate. Maybe I needed to tell him what his father had actually threatened. If Cam knew it wasn’t only his father’s good opinion, but also his inheritance at stake, that his father would disown him, he’d probably abandon these painfully irresistible flirtations. All that pretty blathering about prisons and liberators was mere talk until he actually knew the price of his so-called freedom.
But then he’d also know what his father said to me, and my dignity would go straight into the garbage. Cold ripples of shame swelled at the mere thought of it. I’d rather suffer in this strange purgatory than tell Cam his father thought I was an unworthy whore.
Cam, who loved his father and craved his approval.
What must that be like…
“Ugh, I missed you, sweetheart,” came a familiar voice behind me. Bennett slinked like a jaguar into his usual spot on my desk. His long legs stretched out as he rested at the edge, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. “How was your weekend?”
I picked up my coffee. “It was fine.”
His eyes narrowed a smidge. “Do anything…interesting?”
Oh, he knew. This guy was a nosy little mastermind, dropping hints when it suited his mysterious purposes, guiding me along a path, but only lighting one step at a time. I met his gaze and leaned back in my chair. “You thrive on chaos, don’t you?”
His face lit up. “In an isolated system, the entropy only increases, love.”
We stared at each other a moment, considering. “So your goal is to help it along?”
“The gradual decline of order is inevitable. I merely…observe.”
I narrowed my eyes. “No, there’s a goal in that wily head of yours. I’m sure of it.”