AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Oh, you have choices,” Camden comments, like he’s part of this conversation.
I shoot him a glare, but I don’t grace his statement with an answer, and do my best to ignore him for the rest of the night, focusing on catching up with my friend.
Turns out, they just landed and came here directly afterwards. Camden offered them the one thing no one can resist after almost a day of travel: food.
Erica has tons of pictures and anecdotes to share, though we were in touch throughout the summer.
The guys eventually leave us alone, though Chase is never far from Erica’s periphery, checking on whether she needs a drink, if she’s warm enough, cool enough, if she need anything at all.
It’s amusing, endearing, and sickening all at once.
The guys fire up the grill and get some steaks going—by steak, they mean filet mignon. Erica offers our help for the sides, but Rhys is quick to decline.
I must admit, they’re quite good at this. Soon, we’re lounging on a patio by their outdoor pool, with a full spread including mashed potatoes, roasted sweet potatoes, lobster tails, roasted corn, fancy foreign charcuterie slices, grilled pineapple, and a salad with bits of feta cheese and cucumber. I’ve seen Thanksgiving dinners on TV less fancy than their idea of an improvised midnight Sunday barbecue.
I pile my plate up, trying everything, and eating long after I’m full, simply because each dish is delicious. Roman is proud to say he learned how to do his salad dressing in Greece, and Rhys, who was in charge of most of the sides, gets into an argument with Chase about the best way to mash potatoes.
I watch the whole thing, both amused and surprised. These boys aren’t what I imagined. They have too much time and money on their hands, but most of them are kind of normal. Ish.
Count on me for catching the attention of the craziest of the four.
They chat about college—they’re all starting in a week—their foreign vacation, the new shows streaming, the football results, and their song of the moment. It’s not uncomfortable.
At least, until Erica and Chase announce they’re leaving.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
My instinct is to beg Erica to let me crash at her place, but the words stick in my throat. If I say anything, there are going to be questions—questions I don’t want to answer. Same if I ask for a ride into town. She’d question why I was in Camden’s place if I didn’t want to remain there.
To be fair, she is going to have to have so many questions anyway. I groan as I wave goodbye.
I don’t know what time it is, but night fell hours ago. I’d guess it’s after midnight. Insisting on Camden driving me home right now would be senseless. I’ll have to stay in Thorn Falls.
I clear my throat. “I’d better get going.”
I’m not looking forward to the ten-mile trek to my old trailer park, but staying here would be awkward at best—likely, dangerous.
“There are four spare bedrooms, Morgan,” Camden tells me. “I’ll drive you back to LA first thing, promise.”
My brows furrow as I try to decide the best course of action.
Camden isn’t safe. Affable as they were today, I can’t count on either of his friends taking my side if he decides to attack me.
At the same time…I really don’t want to walk for an hour. That’s hardly safe either.
“Do any of them lock from the inside?”
Camden tilts his head. “What do you think I’ll do to you, princess? Rape you? We’ve already established that wasn’t my purpose.”
That four-letter word again. It doesn’t quite fit with who he is, what he does—though he doesn’t seem to mind gray areas where he doesn’t give his conquests a clear choice. I can’t imagine it. I don’t think he’d sneak into my room, hold me down and force himself on me.
I also don’t believe I can sleep here tonight without him touching me. He fingered me in the staff bathroom at my work, for Christ’s sake. There’s no way he’d let me just sleep.
“So you’ll take me to one of your guest bedrooms and leave me be?” I arch an eyebrow, requiring a clear confirmation.
He strolls to me slowly, moving with the swagger of a predator, and leans in. “Why would I do that?” His voice is soft, low, and he pushes a strand of my hair behind my ear. “You’d be so disappointed.”
Some might mistake the gesture as sweet. It isn’t. He’s making a point. He can touch me. He can touch me, and when he does, I enjoy it.
