Judging from the look of pure bliss on Cam’s face as he bit into the taco, Preston knew the dinner was a homerun. Still, he had to ask, “So you like it?”
“Like it?” Cam gushed. “I love it! I’ve already decided I’m moving in. You have an extra room, right?”
Abby glanced over, momentarily distracted from the book. “Mommy’s room is empty right now. You can sleep there.”
Preston laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure she’d like that.”
“I’m coming here every night for dinner,” Cam announced. “How are you not working at a five-star restaurant? Your food’s amazing!”
“You should try his pancakes,” Abby said. “They’re good, too.”
Preston laughed harder. “Before you ask, no, they aren’t from scratch. They’re made with that super cheap Jiffy blueberry muffin mix.”
“Oh, well, hey, that stuff’s the bomb,” Cam said. “Don’t mess with perfection.”
Abby told him, “Come over for breakfast sometime. You’ll love them!”
Cam shot a knowing look Preston’s way. “Maybe I will.”
“Don’t worry,” Preston assured him, “I won’t make you stay in Tess’s room.”
“Maybe he can stay with me!” Abby shouted.
“Maybe you can finish your dinner,” Preston countered.
With a pout, she turned back to her plate. Then the book caught her eye and she turned towards it again, half-reaching across the table before she thought better of it and settled for staring at the cover again as she ate.
Before Cam started on his second taco, he pulled out his phone and snapped a photo of his plate. Preston teased, “Is that going on your food blog, or something?”
“It’s going to Mel,” Cam said, tapping out a quick text. As he typed, he read his text aloud so Preston knew what he was writing. “Best dinner ever. If Greg doesn’t hire this guy, he’s missing out on Richmond’s best kept secret! What do you want us to bring when we come to eat over?”
A few minutes later, Mel texted back. Cam read her response to Preston. “Looks fabu! She uses silly words like that, I don’t know why. What’s that even mean? Fabu…Don’t have to bring anything but yourselves and Abby. And his CV.”
At her name, Abby glanced over. “Bring me where?”
“We’re going to Jocelyn’s next weekend for dinner,” Preston told her.
She bounced in her seat. “I can show her my book!”
“I’m sure she’ll have her own copy.” Preston looked at Cam, who nodded. “But hey, maybe you can get her to sign your copy, or something. You know, like a school yearbook.”
Abby frowned at him. “I don’t want her writing in my book! You can’t do that!”
Cam was typing another text, so Preston asked, “What are you saying now?”
“That a dish like this is better than anything you’d write out on your CV,” Cam told him. “I mean, hello? One taste and you’d be hired on the spot.”
Preston laughed. “Yeah, if the job was at El Chupacabra, or somewhere like that. Not a place like Libbie Mill. Pork carnitas are hardly fine dining. The wine pairs perfectly with them, by the way. Great choice.”
“Thank the sales lady at Total Wine, not me.” Cam set the phone down and leaned over to sneak a quick kiss. “I’m a total doofus when it comes to booze. But seriously, why not take over a dish that would fit right into a fine dining menu? Show Greg firsthand what you can do?”
Setting down his wine glass, Preston licked his lips. “Well, one, I don’t want to ruin your sister’s dinner. If she’s making spaghetti and I bring over a rice dish, that isn’t going to go well together. Two, I don’t want to piss her off. When people say don’t bring anything, they usually mean it. Three—”
“Okay, okay.” Cam raised one hand in defeat; the other held his half-eaten taco, and he took another bite as he thought things through. “How’s this? I’ll ask her again later, after she’s had some time to think about it, and I’ll point out how good it’d be to have Greg sample your cooking. She’d have to agree. I can even sort of ask her in a roundabout way that will make her think she’s the one who came up with the idea of you bringing a dish in the first place.”
Preston laughed. “What? Really? How’re you going to do that?”
Cam gave him a wink. “Trust me, I know her better than anyone. I’m her brother.”
Though they were still getting to know each other better, that simple gesture still managed to make Preston’s stomach flutter.
* * * *
After dinner, Abby took the book into the living room, leaving Preston and Cam to clean up the dishes. Normally Preston enlisted her help, insisting she at least clear the table before turning on the television, but tonight he was happy to let her go because that meant he had Cam all to himself. There wasn’t much involved in cleaning up, really, just rinsing off the plates and sticking them in the dishwasher, but Preston put on a pot of coffee, and the two men pulled their chairs close together at the dining room table so they could cuddle quietly.
Or rather, as quietly as Abby allowed. Once she realized they wouldn’t be joining her in the living room, she came back to find them, the fairy photo book still clenched tightly in both hands. “Daddy, have you seen these pictures yet?” she asked, slipping into his lap as he leaned against Cam. She pushed the book onto the table between them so they could all three look at it as she turned the pages.
“Honey, we looked at the pictures at the studio, remember?” he reminded her.
Abby gave them both a sweet smile. “Yeah, but now we can look at them again here.”
Cam laughed. “This has to be the most popular scrapbook I’ve ever put together. I’m glad you like it so much.”
“I love it!” Abby cried.
Preston winced. “Use your inside voice, baby doll.”
The minutes seemed to drag by as Abby turned each page, taking time to explain the story behind every photo. To Preston’s surprise, she had concocted a whole fantasy tale to go along with the book, which she told to them as if she were reading it out loud from the pages. In the story, she really was a fairy, and Jocelyn was a human girl who was raised with the fairies—as evidenced by her jeans and T-shirt, Abby pointed out. With each page turned, the story grew more fantastical, until Preston wondered how she was able to keep up with every little aspect of it. Then he thought maybe she wasn’t bothering to, and only made the story up as she went along, changing it on the fly.
He wouldn’t know; he wasn’t paying all that much attention, really. He simply enjoyed the moment, Abby in his lap, Cam’s arm around his shoulders, a sense of rightness and comfort surrounding him. This was what he’d been waiting for without even realizing it, he knew that now. This feeling of family, of home.
Then, before he knew it, the clock above the stove read quarter after eight and it was almost Abby’s bedtime. Preston realized she was on her second or third pass of the book—he hadn’t even noticed her flip to the beginning and start the story all over again. Slapping her leg playfully, he interrupted her flow of words. “Alright, kiddo. Time for bed.”
“Aww, Daddy!” she cried, but it was Cam she looked to for an appeal.
Cam shrugged, amused. “Sorry, sweetie. I’m here for the food.”
Wriggling an arm between them, Preston managed to pinch Cam’s thigh through the heavy denim jeans he wore. “Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” he warned. “See if I don’t remember that when I come back from putting this little one to bed.”
“Hey, I’m still hanging around waiting for dessert,” Cam joked with a wink.
Abby whirled to look at her face, hopeful. “There’s dessert?”
“See what you did?” he asked Cam.
Because they had company over, Preston knew it would be longer than usual to get Abby to concede to head on upstairs, and the comment about dessert only made things worse. Luckily he managed to find a little container of Jell-O in the fridge that satisfied her, though she insisted on bringing a second one out to
Cam, too. “Here’s dessert!” she announced, setting the single serve in front of him at the dining room table. “Do you like the yellow ones? Because I don’t.”
With a laugh, Cam assured her, “Yellow’s fine.”
“Good.” Suddenly she launched herself at him and gave him a tight hug around the waist. “I like you,” she said. “I wouldn’t want you to be mad ‘cause you got yellow and I ate the green.”
Smiling over her at Cam, Preston patted the back of her head and told her, “Come on, honey, tell Cam goodnight. Time for bed.”
She squeezed him harder; Preston saw him wince before she let go. “Night, Cam. Are you going to be here for breakfast, too? We’re having pancakes.”
He met Preston’s gaze when he answered, “No, I don’t think so.”
“Not this time,” Preston amended. Cam’s features softened as he smiled. Abby took off, racing for the stairs, but Preston lingered a moment, leaning down to claim a tender kiss. “I’m sorry this date wasn’t as rousing as our first…”
“I had a lot of fun,” Cam assured him, touching his hand. “Good company, great food. I was serious about coming here every night, and I don’t mean for dinner, either. You better be careful, or I might never leave.”
From upstairs, Abby called out, “Daddy! Come tuck me in!”
“Brush your teeth first!” Preston hollered. Turning back to Cam, he lowered his voice to an intimate level again. “It’ll only take me a few minutes to put her down. If you don’t have to run off right this second, maybe you can brew up two more cups of coffee and when I come back, you’ll finally have me all to yourself.”
Cam kissed him again. “Hurry back then, Daddy.”
* * * *
Upstairs, Preston found Abby in the hallway bathroom. She wore her nightgown over her jeans, and her hair was pulled back from her face with a plastic tiara, the remnant of another Halloween costume from years past. When Preston peeked through the open bathroom door, Abby turned from the sink and grinned around a mouth full of toothpaste. “Brushing!” she said proudly, her voice muffled.
“Keep at it,” he told her. “I like the crown.”
Abby rolled her eyes and spit into the sink. “It’s a tiara, Daddy.” The tone she took might as well have added, Don’t you know anything?
With a grin, Preston asked, “What’s the difference?” Sometimes he liked to toy with her, to see what her answers would be. She could come up with some pretty inventive stuff.
Holding back her long hair so it wouldn’t fall into the sink, Abby rinsed the toothpaste out of her mouth, then put her toothbrush back in the cup, which went into the soap holder that stuck out beneath the mirror. “Queens wear crowns,” she said. “Princesses wear tiaras.”
“Aren’t you queen of this house?” Preston asked.
Abby gave him another withering look. “Daddy, please. I’m not old enough to be queen yet.”
“How old do you have to be to be queen?” he asked.
She tipped her head to one side and thought about it for a long minute. Finally she said, “At least ten, I think.”
He laughed and scooped her up, sweeping her off her feet. “Well, Princess Abigail,” he said as she squealed and squirmed in his arms, “if it pleases Her Royal Highness, it’s time for bed.”
“Daddy!” she shrieked through her giggles. “Put me down!”
But her laughter betrayed her delight, and she held onto his neck tightly even as she wriggled in his embrace. He swooped and dipped her down the hallway, threatening to drop her once or twice, laughing along with her. If Tess were home, she would’ve yelled up the stairs for them to knock it off, and told Preston to stop riling Abby up so close to bedtime. But he knew a little playfulness now would wear her out, and she’d be sleepy by the time he gently deposited her on her bed and pulled the covers up to her chin.
Sure enough, her eyes were droopy the moment her head touched her pillow. Preston wasn’t the least surprised to see the fairy photo book already on her bedside table, in a place of honor within easy reach. “Read me a story,” Abby said, stifling a yawn.
He pointed at the book. “Not tonight, sweetie. You already read me this one like three times, remember?”
A sleepy grin spread across her face. “This is my favorite.” Abby reached for the book and, when Preston handed it over, she clasped it to her chest as if it were a favorite toy or stuffed animal. With a sigh, she told him, “I’m going to have such good dreams tonight.”
Leaning over her, Preston kissed her forehead. “I hope you do. Night, baby. I love you.”
“Love you, too, Daddy.” As he plucked the tiara off her head, she frowned up at him. “Is Cam your boyfriend now?”
Preston ran his fingers over the intricate details of the plastic headpiece. “He’s just a special friend at the moment.”
“But you like him,” Abby said.
Preston nodded. “Yes, I do.”
“And you kiss him,” she pointed out.
Preston smiled down at her. “Yeah.”
Her grin returned. “Cam and Daddy, sitting in a tree,” she sang. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”
Surprised, he tickled her through the covers. “You better watch it, missy,” he warned as she laughed and tried to swat his hands away. “Wait until you bring home a boy you like. See how you like it when I make fun of you kissing on him.”
“Ew! I’m never bringing home a boy!” Abby cried through her giggles. “Boys are gross!”
“Maybe you like girls?” Preston asked. “Like Mommy?”
Abby shook her head. “I don’t like anyone!”
Widening his eyes, Preston asked, “What if you brought home…an ogre?”
“No!” Abby shrieked and pulled the covers up over her head in mock terror.
It took him a good five minutes of tickling and tugging to get her to come back out, and by then she was played out. The game was over, her energy spent—she lay on her bed tired and worn out, her smile slowly dissolving. Each time she blinked, her eyes were slower to open.
Preston kissed the tip of her nose and clicked off the lamp on her bedside table. Immediately the nightlight under her bed came on, casting the room in a cool blue glow. “Night, sugarplum,” he whispered.
“Daddy.”
“Hmm?”
Abby opened one eye, then the other. “If you ever want Cam to spend the night, it’s okay with me. I think he’ll really like your pancakes.”
He tousled her hair, then tweaked her nose. Her acceptance of Cam made him love both of them all the more. “Thanks, Abs. I’ll let him know.”
It wasn’t until he was halfway down the stairs that Preston realized he’d thought of the word love in relation to Cam. Was it love, or was it too soon to tell?
Chapter 13
Cam was waiting for Preston in the living room, curled up at one end of the couch with his shoes off and his feet pulled up under him. When he saw Preston in the doorway, he patted the cushion beside his. “There you are,” he purred. “Come sit with me.”
Preston didn’t need any prompting. As he crossed the room, he kicked off his shoes and loosened the top buttons on his shirt. By the time he reached the couch, he had the whole thing unbuttoned and open, exposing the thin T-shirt he wore beneath it. Shrugging off the overshirt, he tossed it aside and sank down on the cushion next to Cam. “Finally get you all to myself.” Preston leaned him back against the arm of the couch to claim a long, loving kiss. Against Cam’s lips, he murmured, “Now this is my idea of dessert.”
“Hey, don’t knock yellow Jell-O,” Cam joked, wrapping his arms around Preston’s shoulders. As Preston settled into a comfortable position against him, he deposited a flurry of little kisses all over Preston’s cheeks and chin. “This is where I want you to stay for the next…oh, two or three hours.”
Preston grinned. “Why is it the moment you say that, I suddenly need to pee?”
As if to underscore his words, at that exact moment, Cam’s phone beeped with an incoming text.
“And then Mel interrupts us.” He arched up against Preston, reaching behind him for the phone in his back pocket.
“Don’t answer it,” Preston suggested.
“Might be something important,” Cam told him as he checked the text with one hand. “Maybe she realized it’d be a good idea to have you bring a dish to dinner for Greg to try, and she’s going to try to word it in such a way that it sounds like her idea, or she thinks enough time has passed that I’ll have forgotten I was the one who suggested it.”
Despite himself, Preston was interested. Sitting up a little, he tried to read over Cam’s arm. “So? What’s she say?”
A slow smile spread across Cam’s face. “Well, she says the best CVs always include keywords from the position you’re applying for. And she’s forwarded me a copy of the job descriptions her husband just finished writing. Which I’m now…” He tapped the phone a few times, obviously typing something. “…forwarding to you. She also says if you send her a copy early this week, she’ll see that it ends up on Greg’s desk before you two meet on Saturday, so it sounds to me like that might end up being an impromptu job interview after all.”
Preston rested his chin on Cam’s chest and grinned. “Your sister rocks, you know that, don’t you?”
“Of course she does,” Cam said, pocketing the phone. “She gets it from me.”
* * * *
After his Sunday morning shift at the River City Restaurant, Preston came home and spent most of the afternoon updating his CV. Actually, for the first hour or so, he had to troll the internet looking for information on how to write a CV—he knew in theory what one looked like, but he didn’t really have one per se. He’d only had a handful of references from New York restaurants and college in hand when he went around applying for jobs eight years ago, and in the end, Roger had simply asked him to fill out an application, nothing more. So he had no resume, no CV, nothing compiling his work history into one cohesive document that could be polished in the first place.
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