by Brynne Asher
I shake my head. “You’re a frustrating woman.”
“Shop? Do you build birdhouses?”
“You just don’t quit, do you?”
“You’ve gotta keep up, Just Cam.” She crosses her arms and grins.
“Math,” I say to shut her up.
“Math?” she asks, surprised. “So you’re a smarty pants?”
“How old are you, Paige?”
“It’s rude to ask a woman how old she is.”
“Not when she looks as young as you.”
“Don’t worry.” She smirks. Before turning her back on me to move to the food, she adds, “You didn’t have me in class or anything. I would definitely remember you.”
I’ve had enough. Leaving my beer, I move in where she’s standing and lean my hands on either side of her on the counter, boxing her in. She jerks in surprise, feeling me at her back and twists to look up.
I lean down to the side of her face and look into her deep brown eyes, “Darlin’, you look like you could be young. And when I say young, I mean young. Now, I’m not gonna play dumb and act like there’s nothing in the air between us. I feel it and the way you flush and squirm, makes me think you feel it, too.”
“I don’t flush and squirm,” she frowns, lying to me.
I move my face even closer and lower my voice, “You know you do. The air between us is tense, but fucking magnetic. Don’t make me sit here tonight and feel like a dirty old man eating your dinner. If you’re younger than you should be for me, I’ll be on my way. Now, how old are you, Paige?”
Still facing the counter with her back at my chest, she squirms and looks up. “What’s too young for you?”
“Dammit, I’m not gonna ask again.”
She turns in what little space I’ve given her and puts the heels of her hands to the counter inside mine. Leaning her head back she says with a serious face, “I graduated from Highland eight years ago. You do the math, Mr. Smarty Pants.”
“Twenty-five? Twenty-six?” I ask stepping closer so we’re touching. I feel her tits brush my chest, making me hard again because she just confirmed there’s no way we could have been there at the same time.
Taking in our closeness, she inhales and squirms again. “Twenty-six. My mom didn’t believe in being a young kindergartener.”
I drop one hand from the counter to grasp her hip. “Finally. That was a miserable two minutes. I don’t like feeling like a dirty old man, darlin’.”
“So you’re old? Like, about to retire old?” She mocks me again.
“Thirty-two.”
“I bet you’ll have an old man flat butt by next year.” She grins, giving me her wiseass.
I let my fingers dig into her hip and shake my head for the umpteenth time since I dumped my drink on her last week. “Dinner better be good.”
“Oh, dinner’ll kick your ass,” she promises with sass.
I narrow my eyes and purse my lips. Her big brown ones drop to my mouth but quickly shoot back to my eyes.
I give her hip another squeeze and barely turn my head to yell, “Kids, dinner!” because if I don’t, I’ll take her mouth. As much as I want to take her mouth, I want the time to taste her and enjoy it for the first time and not with the kids close by. But her wiseass and sass is making me hard, I want to kiss it off her face. She also makes me hard when she’s sweet. I’m finding my body reacts to just about anything Paige Carpino gives me.
I can’t help it—I step closer and press my body into her curvy one, bringing my other hand up to fist her hair. Tipping her head back farther, I lean down and swipe her nose from top to tip with mine and lower my voice. “Feed me, Paige.”
I hear and feel her take in a quick breath, exhaling it against my lips. And now I know that not only does my body react to Paige being a wiseass, sassy, and sweet, it also reacts when I finally catch her off guard. Her eyes dip and her face turns soft, making me wonder if she’s wet for me.
In a breathy voice she murmurs, “Yes, Cam. I’ll feed you.”
Yeah, I bet she’s wet.
Fuck.
Paige
“So The Shed’s not a shed?” I ask, holding the stem of my wine glass with my arm rested on my knee.
We’re back outside watching the kids play on the swing set and I’m relaxed in a patio chair with my feet tucked underneath me. Cam yanked his chair around so he’s facing me tonight and he’s sipping bourbon cut with ice, something he said he and Lanny do a lot so he knew just where to pour himself an after dinner drink.
This is after we ate dinner, Cam telling and showing me how much he liked it by eating two platefuls. After we were done and the kids scattered he said, “I’ll give it to you, your cooking makes up for the wiseass and sass.” But he said it with a sexy smile playing inside his goatee with his blue eyes pinned on me.
Of course this made me fidget.
I really need to get that under control.
“It’s a warehouse,” he explains. “It was abandoned and when I was looking to expand my sports training and conditioning, it fit the bill. And when I say the bill, I mean the bank account and small business loan. It was a pit, but all I needed was floor space. I had to put in locker rooms and an industrial furnace for the winter. Other than that, I added turf and sports equipment. I’ve got thirty yards of turf laid, six batting cages and two pitching mounds. It sits on enough land that we can do conditioning outside in all but the dead of winter. I’ve had it up and going two years now. It’s doing okay.”
“You have two fulltime jobs?” I ask, thinking that’s a lot since he seems to have his kids most of the time.
“I’m not exactly rolling in it being a teacher. Coaching for the school adds a little, but I needed something on the side,” he says. “I have trainers and some retired professional players working for me. They might’ve made it to the big show, but didn’t make it huge and like to teach. I train a few select teams and players, other than that I manage it.”
“Who exactly needs all this training?” I ask, wondering where the market for this is coming from in Omaha, Nebraska.
“Kids of all ages. You’d be surprised at how many people think they’ve got the next Super Bowl quarterback or World Series pitcher. People eat this shit up and spend hand-over-fist to have their kids trained. I sponsor select club teams for most age divisions in football, baseball, and softball. I plan on moving into gym sports like basketball and volleyball later when I can build gym space. Basically, I’m losing money if it sits empty. We incorporated Boot Camps last summer and the moms went ape-shit over it. It’s busiest in the summer when all the kids are out of school, I can keep it booked all day and most evenings,” he explains.
“That’s a lot with your kids.”
“I’ve got people to run it for me in the evenings so I can be with the kids at night. I have to put them in camp most days during the summer when they can’t hang with me at The Shed. Jordy’s getting old enough to take part in everything, but Cara won’t go to camp unless her brother’s there. For now I have to send them both. Your sister’s saving my ass this summer by keeping them a couple hours before I get home. I couldn’t ask for better neighbors, being a single dad.” He puts his lowball glass to his lips.
Huh. That explains the sweaty gym clothes last week when he poured his Dr. Pepper all over me.
“You work out?” he goes on.
“Me, work out?” I think about how to answer that. I know I’m a bundle of energy and have trouble sitting still sometimes, but I hate going to the gym. It smells—even the nice ones. “Well, I’m not lazy, but I don’t officially work out.”
“You should do a boot camp,” he declares.
“A boot camp? I don’t think so.” I shake my head.
“It’ll be good for you,” he smirks. “No charge, since you’ve fed me two days in a row, not to mention the cookies and my kitchen. We’ll call it even.”
“What? No way. You want to clean my bathroom or carry my bags on vacation, that would be a fair trade.
But you want to kick my ass in a boot camp because I fed you? Not a way to thank a girl,” I reply sarcastically.
“I’ll get you signed up with a good trainer. We have a new session starting next week,” he says as if I had just agreed to his offer, to which I’m pretty sure I sarcastically refused.
“I’m not doing a boot camp, Cam,” I bluntly turn him down.
He ignores me. “Sure you are. After two weeks you’ll love it.”
“You don’t know me. I will never like anything called a boot camp.”
“You will.”
I don’t have time to say no again because Cara comes running from the backyard. Coming straight to me, she climbs into my lap. I have to set my wine on the table not to spill or drop my glass.
“What’s up?” I ask as she settles in my lap.
She takes her little hands and puts them to my jaw pulling my face close to hers. “What’re we doin’ tomorrow?”
I smile in her little hands and look in her bright blue eyes that I’ve come to like more than I should. I want to say it’s because they’re beautiful and bright on her, but I think—or know—it’s because they’re her dad’s.
“What do you want to do tomorrow?” I ask back.
She shrugs. “I dunno.”
“Tomorrow’s Friday,” I explain. “On Friday’s I usually go see a friend of mine. I was going to go while you were in camp, but l think she’d like to meet you. She’s got lots of grandkids and great-grandkids. Her name is Miss Rosa. You want to come with me tomorrow after camp?”
“Okay,” she agrees.
“If it’s okay with your dad.” I look over at Cam.
Cam is sitting back in his chair, his head tipped to the side with his eyes narrowed on us. He looks as if he’s in a faraway place and I wonder what’s wrong with him.
I frown. “Rosa’s eighty-five and doesn’t drive much. She’s nice, but we don’t have to go if you don’t want us to.”
He takes a second and after pulling in a big breath, he shakes his head. “No. It’s fine.”
I don’t have time to ask him if he’s sure because all of sudden I hear a woman’s voice coming from across the yard. “Jordan! Caroline!”
Cam turns away from me in his chair, muttering, “What the hell?” at the same time Cara tenses in my lap.
I see a sort of tall woman with light hair trying to make her way through the expanse from Cam’s house. She looks a little unhappy—definitely unnerved.
“Who’s that?” I ask, but Cam has slammed his glass on the table and turns to stand.
“Our mom,” Cara whispers and tucks into me tighter.
“Huh.” I wonder what I should do as I watch Jordy and Cara’s mother make her way across the yard.
If body language could speak, hers would be cussing up a storm. I’m thinking it would be a humdinger, maybe even F4 tornados. Or one of the worst hurricanes on the hurricane Richter scale. Wait, I think that’s used for earthquakes. I live in the Midwest, I only know the tornado kind of storms.
Hmm. Maybe I should have dug for more info on Jordy and Cara’s mom instead of The Shed. I’m thinking maybe a little background information would be useful right about now.
Yes. This is definitely a call in the National Guard slash State of Emergency kind of storm.
Yikes.
Chapter Seven
Bekki with an i
Paige
“Who is my daughter sitting with?” she yells as she approaches the patio.
I see the woman who Cara says is their mother moving toward us through the yard, walking carefully since she’s wearing high heels. She’s tall and thin but looks sort of like a rectangle in her midsection, there’s not much curve to her whatsoever. This is easy to see because she’s wearing a pair of cream dress slacks with a fitted polyester blend floral top. It has one of those built in matching scarf things in the middle of her boobs and looks like something my mother would wear.
Well, there you go—her outfit proves it. You can buy a pair of cheap black pants and pull them off as amazing, but white or cream? Not so much. I see the front pockets through her pants and that’s never a good look. But I’ve got to hand it to her, she really maneuvers the yard well in those heels. That takes talent.
She’s kind of pale with light blonde hair that almost hits her shoulders. She might be pretty, but her scowl is making her not so pretty at the moment. Those frown lines are going to set if she’s not careful and she can’t be that old if Cam is thirty-two. She’s one unhappy woman, that’s for sure.
I move to stand because for some reason I feel the need to be ready for something. What, I’m not sure yet, but maybe something. Cara grasps at me as I stand, so I pick her up and hold her to my hip. I’m not sure continuing to hold her is a good idea, given her mother is screaming and wondering who I am. But she’s got a death grip on me. What am I supposed to do?
“What’re you doing here?” Cam bites, clearly pissed at the appearance of his children’s mother. I thought I’ve heard him angry when we had our standoff in the burger joint or Monday on Sophia’s doorstep. But this is a whole new Angry Cam. He’s crossed his arms and is standing in front of us looking way bigger than normal.
Jordy and Cara’s mother comes stomping up the patio steps in her high heels and puts a hand to her hip. “Who is she?”
Uh, hello? Bitch alert.
Cam puts a palm up to her, but I butt in first. “Hey. I’m Paige.”
She glares at me but looks back to Cam and says with an underlying meaning, “I thought your neighbor was married.”
“Bekki, shut your mouth,” Cam warns.
“Oh, I’m not his neighbor,” I add. Feeling Cara clutch me tighter, I shift her and continue. “I’m his neighbor’s sister. I’m keeping my nephews this week.”
She frowns. “Why are you holding my daughter?”
Cam interrupts her. “What are you doing here?”
“Becky?” I ask. Going on with a smile, I say, “Nice to meet you.”
She narrows her eyes, cocks her head and simply says, “Yes. Bekki with an i.”
Oh yeah, she’s a bitch. And we all know the sweeter you are to a bitch just makes them look more like one, not to mention pisses them off. I’m me so it goes without saying, I can’t help myself when I smile big and exclaim, “Oh, that’s cute. I’m Paige with an e. My e is boring and silent, you can’t do much with a silent e. I bet you had all kinds of fun with that ‘i’ back in the day. You know, dotting it with a circle, or making the circle into something cheery like a sun or a flower. If you were in the right mood and feeling it, I bet you even topped it with a heart. I’m sure that little ‘i’ brought you hours of doodling goodness.”
Bekki narrows her eyes at me. If we were in a comic book, I’m pretty sure I’d be struck dead, nothing left of me but vapor. Poof! No more Paige with a silent e.
“She’s a little young for you, don’t you think, Cam?” she spills.
If I wasn’t trying so hard not to be a bitch just to make her look more like one, I’d narrow my eyes right back, but refrain. If this isn’t Mean by Taylor Swift, nothing is.
I grin. “Oh, I’m not as young as I look. Trust me, we’ve already had that conversation tonight.”
Cam shakes his head at Bekki with an i, but turns back to us smirking, sharing our private joke. He then looks to Cara and says softly, “Go play with your dog so I can talk to your mom.”
I think Cara wants to get away from the situation even more than me, because she instantly lets go to slide down my body.
“Aren’t you going to say hello to your mother, Caroline?” Bekki asks, fake-sweet to her daughter and I do not like the way she calls Cara, Caroline. It makes me cringe and I’ve decided that as long as I have a friendship with this sweet little five-year-old girl, I will call her nothing but Cara or some other cute lovie name she rightly deserves.
Cara moves slowly around her dad, toward her mother. When she gets to her, she puts her arms carefully around Bekki’s wa
ist. Giving her a tense hug, she says on a squeak, “Hi.”
Bekki puts her hand to Cara’s head and looks down to coldly greet her daughter. “Hello. I’ll see you this weekend, but not until Saturday.”
Cara looks up quickly at her mom with a confused face at the same time Cam says with shock, “What?”
“This is what I’ve come to talk to you about. Since you haven’t returned my calls this week, I had to come looking for you but you weren’t home. I heard the kids playing and found you here.” She throws out her hand while giving me her evil eye.
Cam looks to his daughter. “Baby, go play.”
“Okay,” she quickly agrees and off she goes.
I wonder if it would be weird if I ran after her?
“I’ll just leave you two to talk.” I move to pick up my wine glass.
“Stay where you are,” Cam insists.
“No really, I’ll go in – ” I start, but Cam turns and glares at me with his brows furrowed, pinning me to my spot.
“I guess I’ll stay.” I frown, not liking him bossing me, especially in front of Bekki with an i.
He ignores me and turns to Bekki. “Why are you backing out on Friday?”
“I’m not backing out, I want to trade days. Something came up and I’m busy Friday night.” She goes on looking a little uncomfortable. “I have some time off Tuesday afternoon. I can pick them up from camp, they can spend the night and I’ll take them to camp the next morning. I know it’s not my normally scheduled time, but it would make up for Friday night.”
Cam looks as if he’s trying not to explode and closes his eyes. I see him in profile again as he drops his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, like he has a nasty headache coming on. I’m not quite sure why it was necessary for me to stay, but I’m not stupid. I know I’m a smartass-loudmouth, but I also know when to keep my mouth shut. And this moment calls for keeping my mouth shut.
“Cam?” Bekki belts. I guess she hasn’t learned when to keep her mouth shut. If I was her, I’d let him decompress.