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“You are so on my shit list,” Oliver whined.
“Hey, for once I get to be the bad kid. I’m cool with that.”
“I heard that,” my mother yelled in the background.
“Have fun, kiddo,” my father yelled after. My dad was always the encouraging one.
“Get me off speaker phone, Dr. Dick.”
“Bring him here,” Oliver said with authority.
“Not yet. Soon.”
“Yeah, that’s what you said last time,” he warned.
“Don’t do that, Oliver. You need to trust me. I’ve had a hard enough time doing it myself.”
“Fine. Bree likes him?”
“Yes,” I said with a grin as I watched Bree and Cameron go back and forth as I stood in a quieter spot in the corner of the pub. I was dressed in the oversized jersey Cameron had gifted me hours earlier. Only, as I got dressed, he’d decided to peel it back off.
“Then I guess I’ll give you a pass. But, Abbie . . . just be careful.”
“He’s not Luke. Not by a longshot.”
“I believe you.”
“Good.”
“I’ll pick up your slack this time, but you owe me.”
“I owe you nothing, Oliver, and I’m all too happy to recount the days and dates of the reasons why.”
“Whatever,” he said with a chuckle.
“Love you, bye.”
Right at the moment I ended the call, Cameron looked around the bar in search of me, and when his eyes found mine, he gave me his ‘come-hither’ finger. I loved that finger, and the hand, and the man attached to it.
We spent the second half of the game downing beers and catching each other’s eyes. I knew all too well it was the honeymoon phase of our relationship. I was no fool, and I was going to eat up every minute of it.
And sitting across from him in the café, all I could think of was the way he felt when he was closer, so much closer.
I knew Cameron was thinking the same as he engaged me while I ran my finger along the edge of my cup, then sucked the caramel off, inching my legs further apart.
His gaze hot on my hand, need ate up his features. I felt powerful.
“I couldn’t help but notice you sitting over here all alone.”
I nearly jumped out of my skin at the voice to the left of me. I clamped my legs shut and glared at Cameron, who was so entranced by the movement below he had failed to give me the heads up above.
Confused eyes turned icy as he stared holes through the man who spoke to me in a low beckon.
“I would love to buy you a cup of coffee,” he said as I twisted my head in the politest reception I could muster.
Cameron’s eyes blazed as I gave attention to the interloper, who was oblivious to
the tension in the air.
