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I salute him just as my phone buzzes between us. My text screen still open, there’s no preview setting to cut off Cameron’s words.
CAM:It’s going tocost you more than $47 to get me naked.
My eyebrows shoot up as I slap my palm over my phone and literally sweep it into my purse on the floor below. My gaze shoots up to check Chuck’s expression, which is highlighted by red cheeks and wide eyes. He clears his throat, eyes still fixed on the spot where my phone just was. I wish I could make myself tiny so I could dive into my purse and hide there with my phone.
“That was . . . he was joking,” I stammer.
My eyes flutter shut as I spread my fingers wide as I cover my face with my hand. I want to die. I’m sure it’s only a few seconds of quiet, awkward lingering, but it feels as if he’s been standing here at my side for an hour.
“That’s good,” he finally says.
I nod, still shading my eyes, unable to drop my hand until he walks away.
“I mean, forty-seven is the going market rate,” Chuck says over his shoulder. I catch the snorted laugh that pops from his chest before he gets to his office.
My head falls down to my desk, my gaze darting to the glowing phone screen in my purse. I pull it out and hold it in my lap while I remain crouched over to ensure nobody ever sees a message on my phone screen again. I type fast.
ME:My boss just saw that.
The dots that show his typing lasts for almost a minute until finally I’m hit with a gif after gif of comedic male strippers. The last one is my favorite. I recognize that skit fromSaturdayNight Live. My dad says it was a classic with Chris Farley and Patrick Swayze.
CAM:Really, though. Sorry. Forgive me.
My chest fires up at the sweetness he displays. Our morning didn’t start off so great, mostly due to my issues. And yet he’s still here, still trying at whatever this is he and I are beginning.
ME:No. Forgive me.
I send that message off and wait a minute to see if he responds. I can tell he read my message, and that’s enough. I put my phone away again and go to work on the mayor’s mystery list. It takes me most of the afternoon, including working through my lunch thanks to a sandwich at my desk, but by the time I leave the office, I’ve pulled together sixty images that I think hit the mark.
My mood during our drive home is a full one-eighty from what it was in the morning, and in reaction, so is Cam’s. Part of that is from feeling accomplished for the day. I respond well to praise, and Chuck seemed genuinely relieved when I handed over a rewritten list of images with each search term checked off.
But mostly, I was excited to see Cam again.
Cam.
I decide I like saying his name that way, and if he gets to call me Brooky, I deserve a little leeway to make up a nickname of my choosing.
“How was your day,Cam?” I try it out.
“My day was splendid. And how was yours, Brooky?” His right brow raises as he turns to face me head on from the passenger seat. I glance from the roadway to him a few times before laughing.
“It doesn’t even bother you in the slightest, does it,” I say.
“Nope. I love that you have a pet name for me. Granted, pretty much everyone I know calls me Cam, so really, saying my full name is what’s different.” He shrugs before settling back into his seat and propping his foot up on my dash like he did this morning.
“Gah! Okay, I’m going to come up with something else then. But I like Cam. So I’m going to use it.”
“Cam likes Brooky,” he throws back.
My lips pucker into a bashful smile as I keep my focus on the road. He likes me, which . . .duh.But how cute are those words? Hearing our names together like that, playful and flirty and connected, makes me feel warm inside.
“Hey, seriously for a minute.” I glance to his shoe and his cartoon socks. “How do you pull off this outfit at a law firm?”
Cameron lifts his pant leg up a few inches and admires the tiny, famous, red, and yellow mice on his sock.
“It was a basement day. I knew it going in, and they said to wear comfortable shoes.” He wiggles the toe of his sneaker.
“What’s a basement day?” My stomach tightens remembering how I insinuated his internship wasn’t important this morning. I hope he doesn’t think I’m questioning the value now.
