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Sweet Like Honey

Page 88

by Deidra Duncan

I decided to press him on it. “Why doesn’t he like me?”

He let a long silence stretch, and I mirrored his poker face despite the prolonged eye contact making my insides writhe. I would’ve given a great deal to know what he was thinking in that moment, to learn the secrets that hid behind those pretty eyes.

Finally, he said, “He doesn’t like you because I do, Shay. Isn’t that obvious?”

As a thrill of sparks shot down my spine, I rewarded his honesty with some of my own: “It’s obvious what he thinks, but what he thinks and the truth are two very different things.”

A smile ghosted across his face, and a fair bit of pink stained his nose. “Well, it—it has no bearing on this conversation. You are a valuable employee, and he is—for lack of a better word—an ass. That’s all that matters.”

I was of the mind that there were a great many other things that mattered, but I understood his point. Besides, why did I want him to admit to an attraction neither of us could do anything about?

You could have a fling, whispered a wanton voice deep in my subconscious. You don’t have to marry him.

Higher-order Shay wrangled that line of weak logic into submission. I wasn’t the type of girl who had flings. Certainly not with men who’d owned half my heart since I was just a girl. No, I’d only be flung straight over the edge into a free fall.

I could not fall for Camden Shepherd. At least, not any more than I already had.

“Can I think about it?” I asked. “Take a few days?”

With a sigh, he nodded. “Was it really that bad? What he said to you?”

I see through this good girl charade you put on. It’s nothing but a pathetic attempt to whore your way down easy street.

“Yes.”

His lips tightened. “Would it help if I apologized on his behalf?”

“No. You’ve been nothing but kind.” I tapped my fingernails on the stone. “Even when I invaded your space out of the blue, and you thought I hated you for assaulting me at a dance.”

His displeasure sparked. “‘Assault’ is a strong word.”

“Am I wrong?”

“You want the truth?”

I shot him a look. “I always want the truth, Shepherd.”

His voice dropped to a near whisper. “If I’m honest, I’d have to say that was the best kiss of my life, and I spent nearly a decade thinking you hated me for it.”

My lungs seized. Best kiss of his life? Really?

With hesitant slowness, his hand slid across the table, and he set it atop mine, stirring my pulse. “Whatever threats my father made, whatever insults he threw, just put them out of your mind. He’s talented at hitting you exactly where you’re weakest.”

A belligerent imp inside compelled me to ask, “Where does he hit you?”

He cast a charged look over my face, then set his attention on our hands. His fingers stroked down the length of mine, and when he reached the tips, he nudged them up, unfurling them against his own. One-by-one, his fingers threaded between mine, but he remained silent. My breath caught as my fingers spasmed against his.

Was he— Did that mean⁠—

“Blueberry pancakes?”

I jolted to find the server offering me a plate of heavenly-scented carbs. Camden released my hand to accept his own plate. When the server left, Cam lifted a supercilious eyebrow at me. “Better than a salad?”

My smile broke out. “Infinitely.”

Twenty-Eight

“I. Am. Swooning.” Maribel fell backward onto one of Ravi’s sofas later that night, the back of her hand pressed dramatically over her forehead. “He held your hand?”