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“Let’s sit, okay?” He sighed and beckoned me back to the director’s chairs.
“Sure.” It surprised me that I had any voice at all.
Seated, we were about the same height, and meeting his gaze was less daunting than when he stood six inches taller than me. His expression was soft and almost bashful. The barest trace of pink infused the top of his cheekbones.
“Can we start over?” He rubbed the back of his neck in the way men do when they’re uncomfortable.
I searched his face for signs he was anything but as sincere as he sounded. There was nothing but remorse. I let out a breath, expelling so much tension that I melted into the chair.
“Yeah, I think that might be for the best.” I sent a prayer of thanks to the gods of second chances.
“Let’s forget yesterday. I apologize; that wasn’t my best behavior. Hell, that wasn’t even acceptable behavior.” He shook his head slowly, broadcasting how awful he felt about everything that had gone down. And I was right there with him.
“I don’t make a habit of... doing any of the things I did yesterday. I think we were both dumbstruck and muddled our way through an incredibly awkward situation—very poorly.”
He nodded in agreement, a cautious smile turning up the corners of his flawless lips.
“I’m your real estate agent, Cameron Morgan. Welcome to Elmer. My friends and family call me Cami.” I stood in front of him and held out my hand.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Wilson Phillips, no relation to the band. Would you like to help me buy a house?” He took my hand, and we shook like a pair of business professionals. No lingering, no inappropriate squeezing. No gazing meaningfully into each other’s eyes.
“Absolutely. And once I earn my commission, we’ll be even-steven on the whole you’ve seen me naked thing.” He choked on a laugh when I offered a big, cheesy wink and smile to go with my saucy words.
Grandma always said to leave them laughing.
Chapter 4
Cameron
“Youcrossyourheartand hope to die?” I pointed at Lara over the bar. I’d come straight to The Pub after shooting wrapped for the day. Don’t judge me for drinking while the sun was still up. We had shot what Kate called B roll all afternoon. It was tedious, and if I never again had to tell my life story to a camera, it would be fine with me.
“I solemnly swear on my honor as a third-generation bartender that I will never tell a soul about your naked first meeting with Mr. Unattainable.” Lara topped off my glass of wine and recorked the bottle of local pinot I was enjoying.
“Good, because if Jude or my brother ever found out about the dead rat story, I’d never hear the end of it.” I plucked a fried mozzarella stick out of the red plastic basket and blew on it before sinking my teeth into the gooey, fatty goodness. Comfort food.
“True. But I would like to take this opportunity to point out you’ve gotten more action with your client than anyone else in quite a while. Your dating record is dismal.”
“There was Jethro.” I rolled my eyes; that had been a disaster.
“Is he still mooning over you?”
“I have no idea; I avoid him.”
“Very mature.”
I stuck out my tongue at her, and she frisbeed a cardboard coaster at my head. It was a near-miss.
Dating in Elmer in my situation sucked. After Brian’s death, the town permanently cast me in the role of tragic widow. Sixteen years ago, the categorization fit. I was a disaster, wrecked by grief and overwhelmed by responsibilities. Over time, I healed and learned to cope. But in the town’s eyes, I remained the grieving widow.
And almost two decades later, I had zero interest in a pity fuck from the men of Elmer. The vacationers offered a fun night in the sack, but no future. Not the behavior I wanted to model for my teen daughter or the kind of fruitless relationship I was looking for. Lara’s single mom status was a cautionary tale for all local women who looked to a vacationer for a relationship.
So, I rarely dated. Such is life.
“Wilson only saw me naked. There was no touching, Lara. Zero. Zip. Zilch.” I held up my hand, making an O with my fingers. A vision of Wilson’s perfect lips filled my head. I could easily imagine them coasting over my body, tasting me. Nope. Not a good idea.
“I’m not interested.” Saying it out loud should make it true.
“Maybe no actual touching, but I call bullshit on you not being interested.” Lara frowned and pointed at my face, an eyebrow raised.
