by Kennedy Fox
“That’s not what I said,” he softly states. I lower my eyes to avoid his, but he tilts up my chin, and our gazes connect. “I meant, the more you give in to what they expect, the more they’ll demand it.” He drops his arm, and I swallow hard. “They want to sell scandalous tales to magazines by twisting reality. You play into it, and it makes you look bad every time, so if you quit giving a shit, maybe they’ll stop targeting you.”
I gulp, blinking hard. Eli’s split personalities give me whiplash.
“Well, that’s easier said than done.” I shrug. “The media portrays me in a negative light no matter what I do or say, but I’ve learned that if I’m presentable and look like I have my shit together, it’s harder for them to make up bullshit headlines.”
Eli looks around, squinting before meeting my eyes. “You don’t have to worry about being judged here. No paps to follow you around, and I swear I won’t take pics of you looking like a hot mess and sell them to the media.”
“Do I need to get that in writing?” My shoulders fall as I release a small laugh. “Actually, the idea of being secluded and away from all that was what drew me to the cabin in the first place.”
He presses a hand to his bare, sweaty chest. “Was I the second?”
“Hardly,” I reply dryly, holding back a smirk, considering I was shocked to see him.
“Well, don’t worry…” He steps back and mixes the meat and cheese into the bowl of eggs. “You won’t even know I’m here. Bruno and I are very chill.”
Furrowing my brows, I shake my head. “Somehow, I doubt that.”
Once my espresso is done, I set it on the table and walk back to my room to grab my phone. Zane hasn’t responded to my last text, so I send him another one.
Cameron: Babe, are you on your way? There’s been a little mix-up. Ryan told his friend he could come here, so he’s staying in the guest room. Just a heads-up. Let me know when you leave the city. I miss you!
I go downstairs and am immediately bombarded by Bruno. He gallops into the house after being outside, and he’s in my face, sniffing me.
The dog has never heard of personal space. Another reason I love cats more.
“Okay, go away…” I shoo, stepping back, hoping he doesn’t follow. Before I can say another word, Chanel charges at him, hissing.
“Chanel, no!” I scold, though she couldn’t hurt Bruno even if she tried. She might piss him off, but that’s about it. “Elijah, get control of your dog!” I squeal, running around the kitchen table. “Stay! Sit! Stop!”
Of course, the asshole laughs.
“Bruno, heel,” Elijah commands. The dog immediately stops, goes to Eli, and sits as though nothing happened.
I’m nearly out of breath from chasing Chanel, who doesn’t listen at all.
“Your dog…or horse, rather…is trying to kill my cat and eat her as a snack. Can’t you lock him up or something?”
Bruno licks his chops and pants with his tongue out. I shoot daggers at him as Chanel finally saunters toward me.
“My animal listens. Yours is the prissy bitch,” he states, busying himself in the kitchen.
I gasp, ready to murder them both.
“It’s not his fault,” Eli says, looking over his shoulder at me. “She looks like a meaty, hairless dinner.”
Grabbing Chanel, I hold her tightly to my chest. “She does not. She’s adorable and better for my allergies.” I kiss her head, and she leans against me.
“Do you like ham?” he asks, pouring the egg mixture into a pan.
“What?”
He turns and looks at me. “Ham. Do you like it?”
I shrug. “Yeah, I guess.”
“For your omelet,” he reiterates. “Otherwise, I can do sausage.”
“Um…ham is fine. I’m going to put Chanel in my room.” I turn toward the staircase before he can say another word. Between him offering to make breakfast, our pets trying to murder each other, and his sudden subject change, I’m at a loss of what to think about Elijah being here.
When we were kids, Eli would come over to play with Ryan while his mom worked as our housekeeper. Eventually, I started hanging out with them too, and always looked forward to the days he was there. His sister, Ava, would tag along, but we were never close. As time went on, my mother’s constant pressure to be classy, elegant, and sophisticated took a toll on me. She wanted me to hang out with the girls she approved of who held a specific social class. It was always about money and power to my parents, and I quickly became too snobby to be Elijah’s friend. He wrote me off but remained best friends with my brother, who never cared about that sort of thing.
Eli made snide comments about what I wore, how I spoke or acted, and who was in my circle. Nothing I did was good enough for him. He never knew he was the only person I wanted to impress. Being friends with Elijah already pissed off my dad, so there was no way he would’ve allowed us to date as teenagers.
But that didn’t matter anyway because he hated me as much as I hated him. The feud continued through high school, and when he’d hang out with Ryan, I was brought back to those days of him thinking less of me because of my friends.
I wasn’t completely innocent, but he escalated the situations. I’m judged by thousands of people who don’t know me, but to have someone I cared about have such harsh opinions of me hurt even worse.
I place Chanel on the bed and realize I forgot her bowls. “I’ll be back,” I tell her before shutting the door.
Once I’m in the kitchen, I grab her food and water. “I’m gonna put these in my room so we can avoid World War Three in the mornings.”
“Between you and me or the animals?”
“Ha. You’re a comedian now.”
“Well, you are scary before your coffee.” He squints, then continues, “Or is that how you are all the time?”
“Gonna have to drink mine with alcohol just to deal with your ass.”
Elijah releases a deep howl. “Oh, you and me both, princess.”
I take the stairs to my room, drop off Chanel’s dishes, then go back to see Elijah dancing in the kitchen as he flips an omelet. It’s amusing to watch a six-foot-something guy who enjoys the great outdoors move around like Channing Tatum. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was a mountain man stuck in the city. I know he works in real estate, but I’m not sure exactly what that entails.
“If you ever give up on real estate, you should take up stripping. Bet you’d get lots of singles tucked into your G-string.”
Eli faces me, popping a brow. “You picturing me in my underwear now? I think we’re gonna have to discuss boundaries…” he taunts, and I roll my eyes.
Grabbing my phone, I notice Zane finally messaged me.
Zane: Not gonna make it.
What the fuck? I sit at the table and furiously type a response.
Cameron: What do you mean? Where are you?
Zane: Staying in the city.
Cameron: Why? I thought we were going to be together during this time.
Zane: I don’t think this is working out for me anymore.
My blood pressure rises, and I grow more frustrated with each passing second.
Cameron: What the fuck are you talking about, Zane? We had plans!
Zane: I think we should see other people, Cameron. Indefinitely.
Shifting in my chair, I ball my hand into a fist and see red. How fucking dare he break up with me over a text message?
Cameron: GO TO HELL, ASSHOLE!
“Okay, one ham and regular fat cheese omelet is ready.” When Elijah places the plate in front of me, the steam from the food floats toward my face. I wish I could ignore what just happened with Zane, but I’m so fired up that I’m seeing red. “Bon appétit. Do you want orange juice or just your coffee? OJ is full of calcium and vitamin C, which we need at a time like this, so I brought plenty. I’ll even share it with a princess.” He chuckles.
Eli chats as if nothing is wrong while I can’t think straight because I’m in shock. I’m not heartbroken ove
r the loss of Zane, but his text definitely blindsided me. I should be upset, considering we’ve been together for two years, but I’m more outraged than anything. Why are guys such pricks?
As I push back, the chair scrapes along the floor. I stand and grab my mug off the table. “Don’t bother.”
Instead of giving Eli an explanation, I rush to my bedroom before I have an emotional breakdown.
Zane can kiss my ass.
He made me believe he wanted a future with me, but if he’s staying in the city, that means he’s not alone. The bastard is probably with another chick, and considering how easy it was for him to break up with me, he’s more than likely been cheating the entire time.
Fuck him.
Chapter Four
ELIJAH
What the hell just happened?
I scratch my head at Cameron’s sudden mood change and abrupt departure. She can’t honestly be that upset I teased her about the damn cheese. That’d be a stretch even for Cameron St. James.
“Well, I guess it’s just you and me, Bruno.” I shrug, setting my plate and juice down on the table. The espresso machine looks complicated, and I had planned to figure it out later, but now I’m contemplating taking a shower and going back to bed to restart this weird as fuck day.
Moments later, Cami stomps down the staircase, and I watch in silence as she marches to the kitchen. I stab a piece of meat with my fork and shove it into my mouth, keeping my eyes on her. When she’s not shouting at me or having a tantrum, she’s quite breathtaking. Blond hair sweeps along her face and shoulders, her shining blue eyes glance around as her nostrils flare.
“Digging out the alcohol already?” I ask with amusement as she grabs the vodka from the top shelf in the liquor cabinet. Her mood shift has me eager to find out what the hell happened because she obviously has a problem.
She ignores me, opens the bottle, and takes a long swig. My eyebrows pop up, impressed that she swallows it down so easily.
“Did I drive you to drink already?” I grin, waiting to see if she cracks.
She brings the bottle back to her lips, downing another long swig.
“Damn, killer. I made you breakfast, gave you a dance show, and pissed you off all before ten? That’s gotta be a new record for me.”
“It’s not you,” she says calmly, gripping the neck and swinging it as she walks to the table. “Zane broke up with me in a text message.”
I hadn’t expected that. Dropping my fork, I say, “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
She sits across from me and gives me a side-eye. “No, you’re not.”
“Actually, I am. I was hoping he’d bring pot.”
Cami laughs, and it’s the sweetest, most genuine sound I’ve heard since we both arrived. “You mean you didn’t bring any?”
“Of course, I did. But I figured a rich boy like him would have the good stuff. If you want to wallow, I’ll share mine with you.” I flash a grin.
“How nice of you,” she deadpans. “I don’t smoke it with him. He looked like an idiot but did it around his stupid friends to seem cooler than he was.”
That’s not surprising. Zane’s a fucking moron, especially if he broke up with her.
I inhale half my omelet. “I can teach you. I brought my pipe.”
“A pipe? Oh, my God. What are you, eighty?” She crosses her legs on the chair. Right now, in her non-designer tank top and cotton shorts, she looks normal. Not at all like she’ll inherit billions of dollars before she turns thirty.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Would you prefer to be classier and smoke it rolled in a joint?” I take a sip of my juice and grin.
Cami’s frown turns into a full-on smile, and knowing I made her laugh gives me a small sense of pride.
“Vodka and weed. Sounds like the perfect medicine for heartbreak.”
“I’ll even sweeten the deal…but I’m gonna need something in return.”
She waves her hand. “Like what?”
“Since I made you breakfast—a delicious one, might I add—you have to make dinner.”
Cami narrows her bright eyes at me. “You’re joking.”
“No, really. Try it. This omelet is fan-fucking-tastic.”
“Not about that,” she says. “I can’t cook.”
That I knew. Cameron St. James has never had to cook a day in her life.
“Well, now’s a good time to learn.” I flash her a devilish smirk. She shoots a death glare my way, folding her arms. “Okay, okay.” I laugh. “I’ll help. Consider me your personal cooking tutor.”
“That’s a horrible idea,” she states. “I’ll probably poison us both.”
“I guess that’s just a risk I’m willing to take.” I tap my knuckles twice on the table, then stand and grab my dirty dishes. “We’ll start nice and easy.”
“Like what? Boiling a pot of water?”
“Well, that’ll be the first step for making pasta.” I rinse my plate and mug.
Cami follows with her vodka in hand, and I watch as she takes another gulp.
“You’re gonna be drunk before we make it to dinner.”
“That’s kinda the plan. I’d like to numb as many feelings as I can right now, so you either find more alcohol or you’re a part of the problem.”
Chuckling, I take the bottle from her tight grip and put the cap back on. “Go take a hot bath and relax. I’ll be here to shout curse words at later.”
The moment the words fall from my mouth, her shoulders slump, and guilt washes over her face.
“I’m sorry about that,” she says softly.
“I know.” I flash her a wink, and she groans with an eye roll. “Now, upstairs you go. Take a nap after the tub. Once you’re awake, we’ll cook a delicious non-poisonous meal, then smoke.”
Cami snorts, and I can tell she’s already feeling the vodka. “This really must be the twilight zone.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m at the cabin—one I haven’t been to in ages—with you, and we’re talking about weed. I must be dreaming.”
“Well, that’s very possible, but just in case…we should make sure.”
Sauntering toward her, I close the gap between us and grip the back of her neck. She steps forward, and I cover her mouth with mine.
I halfway expect her to push away and slap me, but she leans in and wraps her arms around my waist. Cupping her face, I slide my tongue between her lips and deepen the kiss. Cami moans against me, and her response has my dick reacting. I’m not sure what came over me—especially since she’s been single for barely a few hours—but she looked so sad and helpless moments ago, and I wanted to help her forget that asshole.
“Well?” I ask, breaking the kiss after a few moments. We’re panting and out of breath.
Cami blinks and brings a finger to her mouth. “Um…” Swallowing hard, she looks up at me. “What the hell was that?”
I shrug as if it didn’t affect me, but truth be told, I’ve imagined kissing her like that since when we were teenagers. “Guess you’re not dreaming.”
Cami blinks again, licks her lips, then nods. “Apparently not, though I’m unsure if I’m happy about that or not.”
“Well, dreaming would almost be better because the current circumstances kinda suck.”
“Oh, uh, right. Yeah, that part definitely does.”
“Okay, well, I gotta shower and check in with my boss.” Walking toward the stairs, I notice she’s flustered, which has me grinning, but I tuck it inside. “Don’t forget about our dinner plans.” I point at her. “Five o’clock sharp.”
“Sure. Maybe eat a big lunch in case it’s a fail.”
“Nah, I have faith in you.” I flash her a wink. “But just in case, I have snacks.”
Bruno follows me to the stairs, and I take two steps at a time, then go into the bathroom. I’m not sure what the fuck came over me, but I don’t regret it. Even though Cameron tormented me for years, I still fantasized about kissing her. And it was everything I thought it’d be—sea
ring hot and passionate, greedy even. Since Zane just broke it off, and she was in a vulnerable state, I shouldn’t have taken advantage, but…Cami didn’t push me away either.
Once I finish showering and get dressed, I hear the water running upstairs, and smile knowing she’s soaking in the tub like I suggested. Cami’s so damn uptight; she probably doesn’t know how to chill out, but it makes me happy that she’s trying.
“Alright, Bruno…work time, buddy.” He nudges me with his wet nose, nearly climbing on my lap as I sit at the desk. “Lie down and take a nap. We’ll play later,” I tell him.
He’s used to constant attention because one of my roommates played with him while I was at the office, but he won’t be getting that here. I have to complete my tasks remotely through this crisis, which is fucking with my head.
On one hand, I need to figure out new ways to connect with clients and am even hoping to get promoted soon to an appraisal manager. But on the other, I hate pushing people to sign contracts on leases they don’t need right now. Nevertheless, I still need a paycheck, and I’m grateful to receive a salary when millions have lost their jobs.
After an hour of responding to emails and following up with a few clients, I take a short break to get a drink. As I’m walking down the hallway, I hear a commotion from above and pause. I wait and then hear Cami scream followed by a loud thump.
Rushing to the third level, I knock on her door and call her name. “Cami? You okay?”
Her feet pad against the floor, and when she opens the door, she’s only wearing a towel.
“Uh…” I lower my eyes, not hiding the fact I’m looking. “I heard something. Are you alright?”
“Aside from falling on my ass, I’m fine,” she says, breathlessly.
“You fell?” I meet her eyes. “Getting out of the tub or what?”
She bites down on her lower lip and fidgets. “Well, no, not exactly.”