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Since this was technically a work day, I made my way back to my desk and pulled out some grant requests to review. I couldn’t focus. I wanted to work on my own business plan. My laptop was open. The last website I’d visited still daring me to read it: “How to start a horse-riding business.” It was daunting to make a business plan, get clients, apply for permits, get licenses, charge them money, etc. Oh my god, so much information!
A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. “Hey there, darlin’. Why so forlorn?”
I pushed back from the desk, and stood. “Hey, Brett, how are you?”
He crossed the room, arms extended as if to give me a hug. I sidestepped just out of his reach. He tilted his head, and frowned. “Did I do something wrong?”
Oh, his eyes were pretty, golden like a tiger. He was equally as predatory. I’d fallen for his flirtations last Christmas when he came out to visit John and Mia. He was charming and sexy, and I thought it would be a convenient hook-up. I hadn’t meant to hurt him.
“No, not at all. I’m happy to see you.”
He came closer, bending his knees and slowly pulling me up into a hug. “But…?”
He nuzzled my neck. Oh, this was bad. I pulled back and put my hands on his biceps. I took a moment to just gently squeeze them. Oh, yum. Wait, no. I pushed him away. “But…”
“Hey Camille.”
Fuck.
I stepped out of Brett’s arms.
“Jacob, you remember Brett.” I went back around my desk.
“Brett.” He put his hands in his pockets.
“Jacob.” He grinned knowingly, and I was instantly angry. Did he do this on purpose?
I sighed. “I really need to get back to work. Brett, thanks for stopping to say hello.” I added in dismissal, “Jacob.”
Brett skirted Jacob on his way out.
Jacob walked farther into the room.
“Camille,” he drawled.
I looked up sharply. “It wasn’t what you think.”
“And what did I think?”
He propped a hip on the edge of my desk. His broad shoulders filled my vision. The smile didn’t meet his eyes.
“That I was flirting with Brett.” I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms in front of me, waiting.
“Were you?” His words were bitter.
“No.”
He raised his eyebrows questioningly.
I sat up straight, and said emphatically, “I wasn’t.”
He was silent. His body practically hummed with his attempt at controlling his words.
I pleaded. “Are you ever going to trust me?”
“I’m trying. Maybe we can’t go back,” he said with a cutting tone. He stood to leave.
Pride kept me from chasing after him but something made me whisper his name. “Jacob.”
He turned at the door, a sweet smile on his face. “I’m not mad, Camille. I’m not happy about Brett, but I can’t judge. It’s just going to take a while for us to get through the bumps.”
His words were what I needed but they also sounded… resigned? Disappointed? Sad? Was he giving up on us? I couldn’t pin it down.
As he left, he simply said, “I’ll see you later this week.”
I watched his retreating back.
