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She could lie and say yes.
She should lie and say yes.
But Blue found herself doing the exact opposite. She slowly breathed out and answered quietly. “No.”
“Then come. Let me thank you for helping us out today.” He winked. “What do you say?”
She should say no. Sorry. Can’t make it. But thanks anyway.
Instead, she found words tumbling from her mouth. Words that changed the game. “Okay. Can I bring anything?”
“Nope. Just yourself.” He nodded toward her car. “I’ll pull up, and you can follow us back.”
Cam disappeared before she could change her mind, and she jogged to her car. Her stomach fluttered. Her cheeks were flushed. And a nervous energy slid over her. This probably wasn’t a good idea. Mixing it up with Cam Booker could only complicate things.
Right?She looked at her reflection in the mirror. At the wide eyes, shining with something she hadn’t seen in a very long time. A horn honked, and Cam waved at her from his truck.
He slowly rolled away, and after a few seconds, Blue followed.
9
When Cam was fourteen, he pulled off an incredible feat.
Only the week before, he and his brother Nash been in the kind of trouble that would sideline any kid’s life at least for a month. Maybe two. Without permission, they’d taken their mother’s shiny new red Mustang to the comic book store because Cam wanted the new Batman. It was a limited-edition release, and he’d been dying to get his hands on it since the day before, when his pal Dustin Chardis shoved it in his face. Cam managed to acquire the last one in the store while his brother sat in the parking lot, in the Mustang, which managed to acquire a nasty dent on the side panel when a bunch of teenagers rolled up in an old Ford pickup and slammed their door into the car.
Cam and Nash’s punishment had been swift and well deserved. A) Nash only had his beginner’s permit and shouldn’t have taken the car out on his own. And B) Cam was already grounded for riding his dirt bike without a helmet. No sports. No TV. No social life whatsoever. And they’d had to pay for the damages with their own money.
The look of disappointment in his mother’s eyes was worse than the punishment, and Cam was determined to do something special for her. Something to make his mother realize how sorry he was and to erase the look that made him feel like crap.
On that particular Sunday, which happened to be Mother’s Day, he got up hours before anyone else and prepared the most delicious breakfast for his mother, full of her favorite things. Eggs Benedict, roasted potatoes, biscuits and gravy. Everything was from scratch (he’d been practicing after school at his grandmother’s), with a lot of effort to make it perfect. He had flowers at the ready, fresh-squeezed orange juice, and banana cake from the local bakery for dessert. Heck, he would have baked those as well, but he knew the time crunch was too great.
At exactly eight o’clock, he gathered up a large tray and marched into his parents’ bedroom. His dad took one look at Cam and gave him the room, while his mother squealed in delight. Her smile was everything he’d hoped for. He wasn’t off the hook by any means, but his mother hugged him tightly and kissed him on the forehead, her fingers lingering on his cheeks for a few moments.
“Thank you,” she’d said quietly.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“Happy Mother’s Day.”
His mother nodded slowly, a small smile touching the corner of her mouth. “You’re still grounded at least for another month.”
That was the first time Cam understood the power of food and the reward of doing something for someone else. It also kick-started his interest in the kitchen, and he was damn good at it. Which was something he’d forgotten until Tawny showed up. It wasn’t as much fun creating a great meal for just one person. With Tawny, he had an excuse to up his game.
Tonight, Mrs. Eddy was joining them, and now, Blue.
He’d sent her out back with Tawny and Rufus about two minutes after she’d walked into his home, along with a tall, cold glass of water--she’d been horrified when he asked if she wanted a glass of wine. He chuckled at the thought.
He pulled out a small platter of brie from the oven and had just finished drizzling balsamic overtop of it when Mrs. Eddy ambled into his kitchen. His neighbor wore another tent dress, this time in an eye-popping shade of green. Her silver hair was up in a bun, and bright pink gloss shone on her lips. Heavy jewelry adorned her neck and ears, and several bangles clinked at her wrists.
“That’s a nice green dress you got there, Mrs. Eddy.”
She set down a fresh-baked apple pie. “It’s chartreuse.”
“That’s a nice chartreuse dress you got there, Mrs. Eddy.”
“Cameron, you are insufferable.”
