by Bijou Hunter
“White.”
“I feel like you’re messing with me.”
“Can’t a guy like white?”
“White is bland, and you’re not a bland guy.”
“What about you?” he asks while taking my puny hand in his big strong one.
“I like red.”
“Fiery.”
“Do you like being a twin?”
“It’s good. I had a comfortable life, so everything was good. Now if I were poor or short or chubby or whatever, maybe having to share the spotlight with another version of me would have sucked ass. For my life, it worked.”
“Is Dayton your best friend?”
“I guess. I don’t think about friends like that. I got my confidants, and that’s Dayton and Bonn. Then it branches out to my club brothers.”
“Have you ever killed anyone?” I ask, wanting to get that right out in the open.
Without missing a beat, Camden shakes his head. “Of course not. Violence is wrong.”
Fighting a grin, I ask, “Does your club do anything illegal?”
“No, we’re mostly focused on fun runs. Lately, we’ve had a lot of pizza and painting parties.”
Smiling now, I scoot closer to him. “I’m fairly sure you’re lying.”
“Why would I lie? I’m an honest guy. Ask anyone and they’ll say the same. Hell, they’ll even say it with a smile on their face.”
We share a knowing grin. “Oh, I bet they will.”
“Have you ever broken any laws?” I ask, tapping my fingers against his brawny forearm.
“I admit, shamefully, of course, I might have jaywalked on occasion. And once I went ten miles over the speed limit, but I was in a hurry. I know that’s no excuse.”
“You’re full of crap,” I say, laughing. “You were speeding on the way here.”
“Oops. I should work on that.”
“Oops, my ass.”
Even smiling, Camden gives me a wary look. “Do you really want to know where the bodies are buried or would you rather remain blissfully unaware?”
This is how life works for those around the club. They know nothing. They accept everything. No questions. No expectations. Life was simpler that way, and Camden is asking if I can live blind to the club’s business.
“Were you sad when your parents divorced?” I ask, changing the subject.
“No. I only want them to be happy.”
“Who do you support in the election?”
“I wish everyone could win. Losing makes people sad.”
Grinning again, I caress the rough hairs on his arm. “Do you have any regrets?”
“Just one. You.”
My smile falters. “Why would you care that much about me instead of Ruby or Harmony or a million other girls?”
Camden studies me. “Tell me something. If I went to the restroom and Dayton came back dressed the same as me, would you be able to tell the difference?”
“Yes,” I say immediately.
“How?”
“I don’t know. He’s different.”
“We look the same. We sound the same. How do you know I’m not him right now?”
“It’s something around the eyes,” I say, caressing just above his right cheekbone. “Your smile is different too, but I don’t know how. It just is. The way you carry yourself is tighter than Dayton. Maybe in the shoulders. So, yeah, I can tell the difference.”
“But none of those things would make you like me over him.”
“No.”
“So would you care if I left and he spent the rest of our date with you?”
“Yes because I like the way you look at me. Dayton looks at me differently. Besides, I don’t want him to look at me the way you do.”
“So it has to be me?” When I nod, he smiles. “And that’s why it has to be you and not your sisters or the millions of other girls.”
I study him for a stupidly long time. “Can we have a real date?” I finally ask. “A real date where I’m not wearing ‘geek’ on my shirt and my sisters aren’t keeping score. Is it too early to ask for another date, or do I need to wait to see if I ruin the rest of this one?”
“You think too much, Bourbon Babe.”
“Is that a yes or no?”
Camden’s large hand wraps behind my neck and guides me close enough for our lips to meet. His breath is hot, and he tastes like beer. I lean into the embrace, hungry for everything he offers.
Arriving with the appetizers, the waitress breaks up our kiss.
“That’s a yes,” he says and hands me a potato skin.
“I don’t eat carbs.”
“What the hell is a carb?”
“You know the answer.”
Camden smirks. “Can tell when I’m lying, can you?”
“That time I could.”
“Look, I’m not a guy who bosses around his woman when it comes what she eats, but just know if this no carb crap is related to the rumor Brittany Sams started, you should dump your diet tonight. You were hot the night of Hannah’s party, and you’re hot now. Eat what you want based on what you want and not what that jealous bitch said.”
I take the potato skin and set it on a small plate. “Brittany wasn’t jealous of me.”
“You can’t be sure. Brittany has the stalker hots for Dayton and probably thought you were making out with him. Shitty stalker can’t even tell us apart.”
“I’m sorry,” I tease. “Are you sad she isn’t stalking you?”
Camden finishes chewing his potato skin and smirks. “I got plenty of stalkers.”
“Name two.”
“Jolene Baker from the Rite Aid and Louise Elson who does my mom’s hair.”
“Jolene Baker is eighty.”
“So?” he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Does she make you feel insecure?”
“She does have lovely hair.”
“It’s a wig. She threw it off once while chasing me through the parking lot.”
I laugh because I think he’s kidding. Camden gives me an odd look, and I realize maybe Jolene really did fly into an insane heat after seeing him one day.
“Were you hurt?” I ask, laughing.
“No, but she nearly clawed off my wife beater.”
“Well if you were wearing a tight white tank, you really can’t fault Jolene. I saw you wearing one of them while riding Shasta and I nearly gave chase even though I hate running.”
“You did, huh?” Camden says, tugging me closer. “I’ll need to wear that on one of our dates.”
The idea of having several more dates with this sexy beast sends me into confidence-overload. I lift my lips to his, and he devours my mouth in a wild kiss. If we weren’t in public, I think I might have crawled into his lap. Knowing my sisters, along with my niece and nephew, are nearby, I regain my senses.
“I’m not a brave person, but you make me wish I was,” I murmur, fanning my cheeks.
“Courage is misunderstood. How do you know if you’re brave until you’ve been in the position to decide between cowardice and courage?
“I ran away the night of the party.”
“That was all about emotion. Courage is about deciding based on logic to face something that might end badly. No emotion involved.”
“Are you brave?”
“I’m willing to die and kill for what I believe in. I don’t know if that makes me brave, but I know what matters.”
“I’d like to think I’d do the same for those I love.”
“You would. I can tell about people.”
“I’ve never been a great judge of character. I see a smiling face and assume the person is harmless. On the other hand, I see a scary looking person and think the worst like with Melvin Shoals at Lush Gardens. He scared the shit out of me when I was younger. I hated passing his trailer and imagined him as everything from a serial killer to a monster of some sort just because he has buggy eyes and a scarred face. It turns out he’s a super nice man. I can’t trust my judgment with people.”
“I know Melvin. He is a good guy,” he says, studying me. “I sometimes wonder how we’ve lived in a small town and never managed to cross paths until recently.”
“I wasn’t ready,” I say immediately. “I’m not sure I’m ready now either.”
“I’m a patient guy.”
Nodding, I scoot over when our food arrives. I’m still hemming and hawing over whether to break my diet with the single potato skin. That last thing my will power needs is for me to sit too close to his mounds of mash potatoes.
Camden spends the meal giving me a load of lies about his club. They organize food drives for homeless monkeys. His father reads to blind doves. His brother massages the feet of sad puppies. So busy rolling my eyes and laughing, I barely obsess about how good his food smells and how much I want potatoes.
“Fish smells weird,” he says after we finish and he stretches like he’s making more space for his food.
Watching the muscles in his chest and arms flex, I feel like a shallow twit. Camden is more than his good looks. But damn, does he have good looks!
“On our next date, maybe you can try something that doesn’t smell fishy,” he says, cupping my face.
“Okay.”
“You’re fucking irresistible when you’re stunned into mumbling.”
Camden covers my mouth and kisses me so thoroughly I think I have a mini-orgasm. My panties no doubt need changing. As my mind swims, I realize I’d spend a lifetime doing nothing more than kissing this man.
The sudden burst of music pries us apart, but I can only stare at the fierce man staring back at me. The intensity of his expression intimidates me, and the logical half of my brain warns I’m unprepared for Camden. Give me a decade with lesser men and I just might have a shot at keeping up with this one.
“I don’t know,” I mumble, talking more to myself than Camden.
“Let’s dance,” he says.
The Boogie Bowl has a dance floor, and tonight’s theme is 1960’s. I shake my head at the thought of dancing in front of the crowded restaurant. Camden stands up and tugs me to my feet. I tumble into him and then hold on tight. My goal is to keep him from moving to the dance floor, but he easily maneuvers me to my terrifying fate.
“I can’t dance.”
“Everyone can dance. What you mean is you can’t dance well,” he says, blowing hair from my eyes as I stare up at him in horror. “I can’t dance well either. Guess what? No one fucking cares.”
I open my mouth to complain but then think of all the people staring at us. No way can they ignore Camden Rutgers on the dance floor. I feel their judgment without even looking around.
“Right here,” he says, pointing his index and middle fingers at his face. “Look at me and don’t look away.”
I stare into his eyes and force a smile. As Build Me Up Buttercup begins to play, Camden takes my hands and forces me to sway with him. Whenever I think to look around, Camden reminds me to focus on his face.
“I see myself as Fred Astaire even if I look like a dancing robot out here.”
Laughing at his imagery, I relax as he spins us around the dance floor. I forget about the strangers watching us. By the next song, my sisters join us. Ruby and Chevelle display actual rhythm while Harmony and Keanu jump around to the music.
Reveling in this new confidence, I focus my gaze on Camden and shut out the world.
Seven - Camden
I feel like a fucking stallion when I leave Daisy. My condo proves to be too small a stall, and I can’t wait until I’m free of it. The next morning, I grab something to eat and drive around town. Twice, I pass Daisy’s job and think of stopping. I want to taste her lips again. I want to taste more than that too. After months of wondering and waiting, I’m dying to get shit moving.
Rather than showing up at Daisy’s job, I head to the park next to my condo complex. Touch football sounds like a great way to work out my pent up energy, and I pity the idiots standing in my way.
When I smash into him, Dayton goes down hard on the thick grass. I never hesitate on my way to the goal line. Throwing the ball on the ground, I wish I were pumping weights or running a marathon. Anything less can’t calm me the fuck down.
“What in the hell did you eat for breakfast?” Dayton asks, standing up and shaking out his arms.
“What I always eat.”
“Cold pizza shouldn’t make you this hyper.”
Hudson picks up the ball and throws a spiral pass to our cousin Bonn. They don’t seem interested in my drama, but Dayton’s pissed.
“Hello? What's your fucking problem?”
“I have no problem. I’m just pumped.”
“I guess Daisy liked her flowers,” Hudson says nearby.
“Life is good, little brother,” I announce and then look at Dayton. “Are we playing or what?”
“It’s touch football, not tackle, fuckwit. Knock me down again and I’ll rip off one of your nads. Get it?”
“I hear your mouth flapping, but I don’t see you making good on those threats, pretty boy.”
Dayton rolls his eyes and gestures for Hudson to throw the ball to him. We return to the game, and I manage not to knock down my idiot brother. Hudson and I score a few times. Otherwise, we’re crushed by Dayton and Bonn.
“The whole town heard about your horrible dancing,” Dayton announces, during our water break. “You sure know how to seduce the fucking ladies.”
Ignoring his ribbing, I think back to how good Daisy felt in my arms. “She let loose on the dance floor. I fucking love when she laughs.”
“Dude,” Dayton mutters, shaking his head and giving me a weird frown. “Some things should be kept to yourself, and feelings are fucking one of them.”
“Give him a break,” Bonn says. “He’s been circling that girl for a long damn time.”
“That’s fine. I’m all for him finally hitting what he’s been hunting, but all the talk of feelings isn’t cool. Dad says you should never shout your weaknesses unless you want your enemies taking advantage of them.”
“I’m not shouting shit, and you aren’t my enemy, cunt butler.”
Bonn grins and smacks the side of Dayton’s head. “You’re such a daddy’s boy.”
“The man knows his shit.”
“Sally Slater sure made some sexy daughters,” I tell Bonn while ignoring my brother’s distaste for the conversation.
Nodding, Bonn smiles, and I assume he’s reminiscing about his old flame, Ruby.
“We’re going out again tonight,” I tell Bonn.
You’re giving away all your power, asshole,” Dayton says. “Women need to know you have other options, or they turn bitch on you.”
“Did Dad say that too?”
“Don’t you listen to him?”
“Not always. I mean the guy loves to hear himself speak.”
“Pot meet kettle,” Dayton says, stretching for a few women passing the park. Once they giggle and keep walking, he focuses back on me. “I still think it’s a mistake to make your feelings obvious. Women don’t respond to weakness.”
“What do you think, Hudson?”
My zen brother ponders the question even though he’s never had a girlfriend, let alone sex.
“I believe a girl will like a guy regardless of him sending her flowers or sharing his feelings. If she doesn’t want him, he can do everything right, and she’ll still think he’s unworthy.”
“The boy speaks the truth,” Bonn says. “Remember Tim in high school. He had a thing for Jeannie, so he learned everything he could about what she liked. He did everything right, and she still blew him off. Instead, she was hot for that jock she had nothing in common with. You can’t force things. If it works, it works.”
“Says the guy whose dick hasn’t enjoyed pussy in years,” Dayton grumbles.
“Classy,” Hudson mutters, walking away with the ball.
“There’s more to life than dick and pussy,” Bonn tells Dayton.
“Yeah, like the club and our Harley
s. Food’s important too. And beer.”
“I’m over the pussy phase,” I announce. “I want more, and Daisy’s offers me what I want.”
Dayton makes a gagging noise. “First, Ruby broke Bonn. Now Daisy is snatching up your nuts. Where does that leave me?”
“Chasing Harmony,” Bonn points out.
“I don’t chase her. Do I see her and want to bend her over a table and fuck her? Sure. Would I like to have my dick in her pretty mouth on occasion? Yes. Does that mean I’ll send her flowers and share my feelings with her? Not in a million fucking years.”
“Harmony is just another chick to you. For me, Daisy is unique.”
“Why is she so fucking unique?”
Both men stare at me, and I hate ending up on the damn spot. While I consider punching one of them as a way to change the subject, I shove my hands into my pockets instead.
“When Daisy looks at me, I feel seen in a way I never do with other women. When I make her laugh, I feel like I’ve done something amazing.”
“That’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard.”
“Fine. Daisy is beautiful, and she makes my dick hard, and I want to fuck her, but then after I fuck her, I still want to talk to her.”
Dayton considers my words and walks away. “Whatever floats your boat, but you sound like a damn fool.”
Standing next to me, Bonn is thinking. Even sensing he wants to say something, I know he won’t speak up unless I beat it out of him.
“Spill it, cousin.”
“I like Daisy, but I don’t know if she has the stomach for your life.”
“My life, huh?”
Bonn’s a big guy, but he carries himself like an old man. I’ve always figured he wanted people to ignore him, so he works to disappear. Now he puffs out his chest and shoulders, looking nearly as big as me.
“Don’t play that game with me. We know the Brotherhood spills blood when necessary. Some women can handle that life. I don’t think Daisy is one of them. She’s fragile in too many ways.”
“My business doesn’t need to affect Daisy in any way.”
“What about your dad? Or the club guys? Do you think Daisy will like spending time with them with the way they talk? Daisy isn’t a wallflower. Not after living in Lush Gardens. She knows loud-mouthed people and booze-hounds and sluts. What she also knows is when violence breaks out, she should hide. She avoids danger while you seek it out.”