“How about you shower with me?”
“Uh, no.” I shook my head.
“Then go for a run with me.”
“This body,” I gestured to myself, “is built for daydreaming. It doesn’t run.”
“Except to the convenience store,” he said. “Okay, Cam. We’ll do things your way. Just breakfast for now.”
• • •
Bradley
Cam was adorable in the morning. Funny with that inner voice stuff. And sexy as hell in only the chemise. A trifecta of temptation.
I was so fucked.
Hopping out of the shower, I wrapped a towel around my waist and padded into the guest bedroom. I glanced at the bed where the linens were rumpled. The memory-foam mattress still registered the indentation from our bodies. I’d slept with her all night and well into the morning, longer and better than usual. I shook my head in disbelief.
Turning from the bed, I nearly stepped on my cell. The battery was dead. The flashlight had been on most of the night. If there had been any juice left over once the sun had come up, the dozen or so urgent messages I probably received from clients had surely drained the remaining power.
Towel held at my waist, I scooped up my phone and padded down the hall. As I passed the stairs, I heard humming down below and pans clattering. Holy shit. She was humming the tune I’d sung to her. Something smelled good too.
Lengthening my strides, I went straight to my nightstand and plugged in my phone, then got dressed faster than usual. Seeing Cam was a great motivator. I sped down the stairs, punching up my cardio before my run.
“It’s almost ready.” At the stove, Cam had her back to me, but she’d obviously noted my mad dash and abrupt halt behind her. “Go ahead and have a seat at the table.”
I could, but for the moment I preferred to remain where I was, savoring the view. Not of the Pacific out the many windows on this side of the house, but of her. The black yoga pants and her loose black top, I’d seen before. But not her in my kitchen, cooking breakfast just for me.
Giving kindness is the greater gift? I shook my head. I wasn’t so sure, not the way she did it.
Tearing myself away, I turned toward the table and came to an abrupt stop once more. “You got me a Wall Street Journal?”
“And the Washington Post. I wasn’t sure what you liked, but those seemed like the right kind of reading for a business manager.” There was a teasing lilt to her voice, much like earlier, that I very much liked. Then there was all of her.
“Sit.” Glancing at me, she pointed with a spatula. As soon as I sat, she placed a platter with fresh-cut fruit, scrambled eggs, and avocado toast in front of me. “I hope this is enough.”
I glanced at her sharply, raising my brows. “Are the LA Rams coming to eat breakfast too?”
“No, silly.” She giggled. “Just me and you.”
Fuck. I liked the sound of that.
I turned my chair toward her and took her hand as soon as she sat down beside me. She glanced down and then up at me, her brows drawn together in confusion.
Pasting on a serious expression, difficult to do when I was so incredibly touched by her thoughtfulness, I gave it to her straight. “I think my inner voice is going to divorce me so it can have a clean shot at marrying you without any competition.”
Chapter 31
* * *
Camaro
“You sure you won’t come with me?”
Standing in front of the stairs to the garage, Brad shifted his weight from one running shoe to the other. He was totally ripped, and in only a torso-skimming gray tank top and black cut-off sweats, all those ripped muscles—triceps, biceps, and quads—flexed enticingly.
“Why would I want to exercise on purpose?” I asked with a duh in my tone.
“Because it’s good for you, and it’s fun.”
“Ah, I see.” I rolled my eyes.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re one of those kinds of exercisers. You don’t just have to run. You like to run.”
“A little of both, actually.”
I smiled. “Okay, well, not for me. And before you ask, I’m sure. I have dishes to wash and some serious grocery shopping to do. Maybe some writing.” I pointed. “Go forth and have your fun.”
“I could stay and help you with the dishes.”
“Help distract me, you mean.” I shook my head. “I appreciate the offer, but when I put up everything, it helps me familiarize myself with your kitchen.” Everything was so new, I didn’t think he’d used any of it, except maybe to store takeout containers.
“You’ll be here when I get back?” he asked, his gaze narrowing.
“Yes, of course I’ll be.” I tilted my head in confusion.
He seemed reluctant to be separated. I felt the same way, but he probably worried I would get into trouble away from him, whereas I wanted him to stay so I could get into trouble with him.
“I think I have your schedule down,” I said, trying out his businesslike tone. “Your workout is ninety minutes long, and you have a client to meet afterward. But then you want to eat here. Together. For lunch. Around one, right?”
His eyes as bright and shiny as the clear blue sky outside, he nodded.
“That shouldn’t be a problem.” That gave me just enough time for everything on my agenda.
“Great,” he said, but he lingered. The expectant way he looked at me told me he wanted or needed to say something more.
“Whatever it is, just go ahead and spit it out.”
Brad’s lips curved up. “It’s nice, you being here.”
Touched by his words, I took a moment to respond. “I like being here. It’s a beautiful place.”
“It is. But you make it actually feel that way.” Turning, he jogged down the stairs.
Shocked, I stood there and stared at the spot he’d vacated, turning his statement over and over in my mind. His affirmation washed over me slowly but potently.
I turned back to the sink and plunged my hands into the sudsy water, smiling as I rinsed the plates and utensils. I smiled as I put them in the dishwasher, and I continued smiling as I hand-washed and dried the nonstick pan.
Once the kitchen was clean, I snagged my cell from the island and went upstairs. I was making up the guest room bed when an incoming text message beeped.
BRADLEY: I set your phone up with my credit card for groceries.
CAMARO: Thanks. Any requests for lunch?
BRADLEY: Food requests?
CAMARO: Yes.
I typed in the reply, experiencing a thrill at the thought of what other requests he might have in mind.
BRADLEY: I pretty much will eat anything. Fix what you would like to eat.
CAMARO: Got it :)
BRADLEY: What are you doing?
CAMARO: Trying to make up the beds, but someone keeps interrupting me.
BRADLEY: Fine. That’s a thoughtful houseguest type thing to do, but don’t clean toilets or anything else. I have a service that comes every other week to deep clean.
Bossy man. He just couldn’t help it.
CAMARO: Okay. You should be focusing on your run. Having runner fun. Achieving runner Zen.
BRADLEY: I’d rather focus on you.
I smiled. It was only harmless flirting, like his offer to shower together and the inner voice talk, but it made me feel like I was untarnished. Like I could almost be the type of woman a guy like Brad would want to flirt with.
CAMARO: I assume you’re talking to text. Be careful. Don’t trip. I’m going to borrow one of the bikes I saw in the garage and go somewhere quiet after shopping to write a new story on my phone. I’ll put my notifications on mute for a while. Is that okay with you?
I set the phone on the nightstand and had the bed made before he texted again.
BRADLEY: Anything I have is yours to use. But I don’t like the idea of not being able to get ahold of you. How long will this mute thing last?
I nibbled on the side o
f my finger, considering for a moment, and googled the distance before typing a response and then hitting send.
CAMARO: A few hours.
I scooped up my cell and moved down the hall. In front of the room with the closed door, I stopped and glanced down at my phone. No response yet. Curious, I reached for the knob and my phone beeped. I dropped my hand and glanced down to read the message.
BRADLEY: Okay, I guess. But don’t go in the middle bedroom.
It was like he had a tripwire connected to the door, or maybe video cameras in the house. Lifting my head, I glanced around warily.
I almost broke down and told him where I was going today, but I chickened out. We were just back to being friends after things had gone wrong last night. I didn’t think he would give his approval, so I didn’t ask for it. Plus, I didn’t want to do anything to make him mad.
CAMARO: I’ll text you when I go offline, then when I’m back on again. And I won’t go into your off-limits room.
BRADLEY: Thank you, Cam.
I continued down the hall, pausing a moment and inhaling deeply before crossing the threshold into his room. Citrus, rosemary, olive wood. Here, the essential ingredients of his cologne were as strong as his bossy businessman persona.
Pushing through it, imagining a brick wall, I entered the room, his room. I set my phone down on his nightstand, noting a pair of glasses. Did he normally wear contacts and use the glasses for backup?
My fingertips tingled as I grabbed the pillow on this side and hugged it to my chest. I inhaled deeply. It smelled just like him.
You’re in too deep.
Trying to be reasonable, I put the pillow back on the bed and started making it up. Once it was made, I picked up the pajama bottoms he’d tossed on the floor. With the soft flannel in my hand, I experienced more than tingling fingertips. Imagining him in them, and out of them, was a scalp-to-shivery-toes-worthy event.
Folding them sedately after my mini-orgasm, I placed them on the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed, then turned and headed into the master bathroom.
“Holy shit!” I exclaimed, taking it all in.
The cut-glass crystal chandelier overhead. The travertine floor that slanted to a step-down shower on the far left. A gleaming white clawfoot tub, oversized like the shower, definitely big enough for two. Heated towel warmers held big white fluffy towels. The floor was heated too.
I ran my hand over the control switch on the wall. It was a masculine, yet surprisingly romantic space with a large window over the tub that framed the ocean, and another smaller one higher up inside the shower.
Investigating further, i.e. snooping, I confirmed that in addition to a dozen water nozzles operated by a panel, there was also a hand crank inside the shower that opened the window. Outside, the blue ocean was stretched across the horizon. I could even hear the roar of it in the distance.
Wow. I shook my head and closed the window.
I loved the large open living space downstairs. The ocean was visible from every vantage point there too, but the bathroom was my new favorite. Though, I had yet to see the room with the closed door. I was more curious than ever about it.
Moving to the counter, I rinsed out the granite basin on the left side. Dark blond whiskers in it told me it was Brad’s side, his preferred sink. I wiped down the water-splashed counter and mirror, and smiled huge when I saw the bottle of cologne. CEO Essentials by Fanny Bay Fragrances. I should have guessed.
I switched off the lights on my way out. Retracing my steps from the room, I returned to the main living level and grabbed the extra key I’d used when shopping for breakfast earlier. Heading to the garage on the ground level, I grabbed the handlebars of one of the bicycles and walked it to the door.
Outside, I pulled in a deep breath of briny air and glanced around. Multilevel houses like Brad’s lined the street. The slope was steep that led down to the water on one side, and steeper in the other direction that led to the taco shop and the grocery store I wanted to visit. Google indicated it was only two-tenths of a mile away.
But I was going to walk the bike up the incline. And I would have to employ the handbrakes on the way down to the coastal trail afterward. It was ten miles to Venice Beach. About an hour there and the same amount of time back.
Just long enough to check on Gerald and Geraldine, tell them a new story, write it down on my notepad, and bike back in time to make lunch for Brad.
It was doable.
I hoped.
Chapter 32
* * *
Bradley
“Looks like you got some sun today.” I shifted in my chair after lunch to look at Cam. “Your cheeks are pink.”
“Are they?” She put her hands over them. “Yikes, you’re right. They feel warm. I guess my natural pigmentation couldn’t hold up to the midday California sun. “
“Your skin is gorgeous.” I nodded approvingly. “But even if you tend to tan, you should always wear sunscreen.”
“Noted, bossy man.”
“Just looking out for you.” My brows drew together.
“I know.” She set her napkin beside her plate and patted my hand where it rested on the table between us. I wanted to flip my hand over and hold hers like I had at Coralee’s debut. But I had to be patient. Cam had just forgiven me.
“We each have our ways of looking out for those we care about. Thank you for shopping, straightening up the house, and for making lunch.”
I covered her hand, sandwiching it between mine before she could think to withdraw it, and swept my thumb across her soft skin. The scent of lemons wafted up to tantalize me. Likely, she’d utilized the Meyer lemon moisturizer by the kitchen sink. The scents of lemon and the ocean clung to her. Sweet and salty suited her.
“It’s only sandwiches made with meat and bread from the deli.”
“It’s the way you put the ingredients together. And the tomato basil soup is fantastic.” I dipped my chin. “Your mom’s recipe?”
“My grandmother’s, my mother’s mom. Luckily, she shared all her recipes from her restaurant before she passed.”
“Where was her restaurant?”
“Sorrento.”
“In Italy. I should have guessed. Is your grandfather still alive?”
“No.” Cam shook her head.
“I’m sorry.” I squeezed her hand. “Mine are gone too. I’ll bet you miss them,” I said somberly.
“I do, though I never knew my grandparents on my father’s side. They died before I was born.”
A shadow darkened the previous brightness of her eyes, and I suspected that it was probably the mention of her father, not grandparents she’d never known, that made her sad.
“I miss you, Nonnino and Nonnetto.” Withdrawing her hand, she brought it up to her mouth and kissed the side of it.
I wished she weren’t so sad and alone. I also wished she would kiss me again, rather than just her hand.
“I’ll clean up,” I said.
“But—”
“I insist. We’re going to be together for a while. We should take turns after meals.”
“It doesn’t seem right,” she said, pursing her lips.
I wanted to press mine to hers, but instead pressed for my will over hers, taking the win I knew I could get for now.
“If you don’t let me help when you’re taking such good care of me, you’ll make me feel guilty.” I lifted a brow. “I’ll feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”
“Okay.” She nodded once.
“Good.” I nodded back and pressed for more of what I wanted. “I like learning more about you. So your grandparents lived in Sorrento all their lives?”
“Yes,” she replied stiffly, and I frowned. The past might be unchangeable, but it was important because it affected her right now.
“I’ve never been,” I said, “but I’ve seen pictures of the pretty hillside towns with cobblestone streets that spill into the ocean. Did you get to visit them often?”
“Every spring unti
l my mom got too sick and . . .”
“Until they passed.”
“What happened to your mom, Cam?”
“I don’t really want to talk about that.” Her eyes instantly glistened.
“It was a difficult time.”
She blinked quickly, bobbing her head rather than respond.
“Better to remember the good times.”
“Yes, I try to.”
“Were there a lot of good times for you growing up? You mentioned tension with your dad. Was there also tension between your parents in their marriage?”
“No, they were completely devoted to each other.” She brought her hands to her lap and twisted them together. “Like two halves of one whole. Always together and on each other’s minds, even when they were apart.” She shook her head. “I’ve never seen two people so in love and in sync with each other until Jewel and Rush.”
“My parents are very close too,” I said. “Not in sync, exactly, more like balanced. My dad’s the practical one, and my mom’s an incurable romantic. He keeps the finances and the farm running. She gives him a warm welcoming house to come home to, for all of us to come home to when we visit.”
“That sounds nice.” Cam exhaled, and her fingers loosened. “And they live in Indiana?”
“Pemberton, a small farming community with only one public high school where my sister went, and a private Catholic school where Rush and I met and became such good friends.”
“Are you Catholic?” she asked, tilting her head. Her black hair spilled glossy appeal over one shoulder.
“No.”
“I don’t understand.” Her brow creased. “Why did you and Sierra go to different schools?”
“I had a full scholarship, both for private high school and college. No way would my parents have been able to afford for me to go where I did otherwise.”
The Right Wish Page 18