by J. Kenner
She nodded agreement as she explored the place, noticing the soft classical music and the wine glasses already out on the bar by the kitchen area.
The bedroom was an area set off by bookcases, and she saw the bedspread was pulled back and rose petals decorated the sheets.
“I’ll bite,” she said. “What’s going on. Is this your place?”
“Ours,” he said. “Just for the weekend.”
“Don’t you work this weekend? And how is it ours?”
“It’s my sister’s. Well, hers and Noah’s. This was his place before they got married, and he kept it. They have a house in LA, too. And so long as we clear out before they get here on Wednesday, we have the run of the place.”
“But—”
“And you’re right. I have to work. But I thought it would be nice to share a place—to just share everyday life—for a couple of days. But if you think it’s a stupid idea or if it makes you uncomfortable—”
“I like it,” she interrupted, rushing to reassure him. And she really did. “Yes,” she said, holding out her hands to him. “I want to play house with you, Cameron Reed.”
The relief on his face was so obvious that she was overcome with the urge to kiss him. And since there was no reason not to, that’s exactly what she did. Then she put her arms around him and held him close, feeling happy and spoiled and loved.
“I have a bottle of wine chilling,” he said. “Do you want some?”
She nodded, then took a seat in front of the window while he brought over the glasses and the white wine. They watched the lights of the neighborhoods beyond the river, and talked about their plans for the weekend. He told her how to get into the condo and asked what she’d do while he was at work.
She almost said she was going to pick up stray men and bring them to the condo, but even though it was so obviously a joke, she couldn’t conjure the words. She didn’t want even a joking thought about another man coming between them.
He was, she realized, all she wanted. And the thought was less scary than it should have been. After all, she’d never expected to feel so serious about a guy. Not yet anyway. Not until she was older and more established in her career.
But what they had felt right. Good. She just wasn’t sure if she could trust the way it felt. Or even if she should let him into her heart since she’d be off to Los Angeles as soon as she had enough experience under her belt.
Then again, it was too late for that. He was in her heart. Her heart and her head and her thoughts. And no matter what came next, she didn’t want that to change. She didn’t know if she was in love with him, and she wasn’t quite ready to think about that. But she did know that she wanted him. That being with him felt right.
And that, she supposed, was plenty to be going on with.
“Hey, you got quiet,” he said. “Penny for your thoughts?”
“They’re worth at least a quarter,” she countered.
“Deal.”
“I was thinking about you,” she admitted, then stood up and held out her hand to him. “And I was thinking about the bed and the rose petals. And,” she added, as she tugged him that direction, “I was thinking that I really want you to make love to me now.”
And of course, since Cam was a gentleman, he did exactly what she asked.
By late Sunday—technically Monday—Cam knew that he owed his sister big time. He’d never felt more at ease than he had sharing the studio with Mina. They walked on the trail by the river in the mornings, then came back to the condo for breakfast and made love in the shower. She spent a few hours each day at The Fix helping Brooke and Spencer, but they still had plenty of time for a quick dinner before he went in for his shift.
And since they were both used to crazy bar hours, they made love again in the wee hours after he came home from work. Then they lazed together in bed and caught each other up on their days, him telling her all about his new managerial position—which was harder work than bartending, but worth it—and her telling him about articles she’d read, places she’d visited, and all the little things she was doing as she enjoyed her free time between school and her new job that was starting soon.
That intimacy was what he was most looking forward to now as he rode the elevator up after his shift. And he called out her name as he stepped inside.
Usually, she greeted him with a sparkling water, but today she only waved from where she sat at the kitchen table with her phone to her ear and a cup of coffee in front of her.
“Thanks,” she was saying. “I really am excited. It couldn’t be a better opportunity.” She nodded. “Yeah, really soon. I don’t know—oh, that’s terrific. I can’t believe you forgot to tell me that right off the bat. An actual producing credit?”
She stood as she listened, then came over to kiss him, signaling that she’d only be another minute. “Well, tell him I said congratulations and that we’ll talk soon. I know, right? Definitely happy hour worthy. Okay, love you, too. Bye!”
She ended the call, then moved into the kitchen to fill her mug.
“One of your LA friends?” he asked.
“Lydia,” she said, her back to him. “She moved to LA after undergrad and is doing really well. And she told me that another friend of ours just got his first producing credit.”
“And you told them about your job, I hope.”
“Yeah,” she said, her voice a little hollow. “That’s actually why I called her. I know it’s late there, but with the time difference, I knew she’d still be up.”
He frowned, not certain why, but feeling like there was something off in her voice. “She must know the studio,” he said. “I mean, with projects from both Griffin and Beverly Martin on their dance card, you’re going to work for a real competitor.”
“I know.” She finally turn around, then rubbed her face, looking tired. “It’s just been a long, weird day, and I miss her. There was a group of us that did drinks every Friday night. Call it late night melancholy. Actually,” she said, “don’t call it anything at all. Because I’m going to shake off this mood.”
A ball of worry had settled in his gut, but he was determined to shake that off, too. So he didn’t ask her for more details. All he said was, “you’re in luck. I know just how to do that. Get dressed,” he added, his eyes skimming over the tiny tank top and sleep shorts that he loved seeing her in. “I want to show you something.”
“What? Outside?”
Since she was already tugging her jeans back on, he didn’t bother answering. He just waited for her to finish, then led the way to the door.
“It’s almost three in the morning,” she pointed out as they descended in the elevator. “Where are we going?”
“Not far,” he promised. He’d called the car service again, and the limo was right on time, the driver standing by the door ready to hold it open for Mina.
“Good evening,” he said as they both slipped inside, and Cam was pleased to see the driver hadn’t forgotten a thing.
As the driver shut the door, Cam took one of the freshly poured Mimosas and handed it to Mina. “To long nights and wonderful company,” he said.
She still looked baffled, but she smiled broadly, then clinked her glass against his. “I’ll drink to that.” She took a sip, then nodded at the two small canvas bags on the floor. They were both zipped shut with no logo. “Are those for us?”
“Yup.”
“Can I open one?”
“Nope.”
“Cam!”
He laughed, amused by her confusion. Soon enough she’d have her answer, and in fact, they’d barely been in the car for five minutes when the driver pulled over at the designated spot on Baylor Street at the edge of downtown, just below the old castle. “Come on,” Cam said, grabbing his bag and urging Mina to pick up hers.
“Graffiti Park!” She looked around, delighted. “Do you know I’ve never been here?”
“Me neither,” Cam admitted, but he knew about it. Most Austinites did. Officially called the Hope Outd
oor Gallery, Graffiti Park consisted of the concrete remnants of old buildings at the bottom of a hill. An urban contrast to the medieval-style castle that graced the hilltop, one of the earliest buildings in Austin, and which Cam had been in once as a kid when the then-owners had turned it into a haunted house for Halloween.
For years, the slabs had stood stark white, like bones rotting in the sun. Then after a South-by-Southwest event in 2011, it was opened to muralists. After that, it evolved as a venue for taggers, with the graffiti being periodically whitewashed so that folks could start over.
Now, it was completely covered by layer upon layer of art on top of art. And Cam intended to add one more layer.
“They’re about to demolish it,” he said. “I’m not sure exactly when, but I read that the city council voted on it, and it’s going to be torn down, and maybe part of it relocated out by the airport.” He shrugged. “I guess the folks in the neighborhood don’t like the crowds it draws.”
“Too bad,” she said. “It’s pretty cool.”
They started climbing until they found a slab with mostly solid colors. Mina opened her bag, found a can of white paint, and sprayed, Mina & Cam Were Here, then proceeded to spray smiley faces and little stick figures.
They both sprayed goofy images for a while, demonstrating their complete lack of artistic skill, until finally Cam took her hand and pulled her to one side. “This,” he said, then very carefully sprayed Mina + Cam 4ever inside a large, red heart.
When he was done, he turned to look at her, his heart pounding because he knew he’d laid it on the line.
But her hand was pressed to her chest and her expression was wistful, and when she turned and smiled at him, his shoulders sagged with relief. At least until she stepped over to him, took his hand, and sighed.
“Forever,” she whispered. “At least until they knock the place down.”
Chapter Twelve
Cam sat on the edge of the bed, every nerve in his body crackling with heat and anticipation as he glanced toward the bathroom door. She was back there. Mina. And as he waited for her to come out, he couldn’t help but think that he had no idea how he’d gotten so lucky to have finally won her.
But he had. She was his. His.
He swallowed, nerves tingling as he waited. He was hyperaware of everything. The buzz of the air conditioner. The silk of the bedspread. The sound of the water running in the bathroom.
And then—oh, God—the subtle click of the doorknob turning and the creak of hinges as the bathroom door opened.
She stepped out, clad in a short terrycloth robe that ended at the top of her thighs and revealed miles of perfect legs. She walked toward him, and he swallowed, knowing without seeing that she was naked underneath. That all she had to do was loosen the tie at her waist and open the robe to reveal herself to him. Her firm breasts, her flat belly, her entire body that he’d come to know so well but could never get enough of.
“I’m ready,” she whispered, and he felt his cock go hard.
He nodded, his mouth too dry to speak. And when she took another step toward him and pulled loose the sash, he thought his heart might stop.
But that was nothing compared to when her hands went to the robe, and she started to pull it open. To reveal herself to him. To stand naked before him and—
Bang!
A wave of golden light burst from the robe, blinding him and knocking him backward.
And when he’d blinked enough to clear his vision, she was gone—and so was the entire apartment.
He was left standing alone among white concrete slabs, sun bleached and cracked. All except one that stood in the middle, a single phrase sprayed on it in bold, curvy lettering:
Forever only lasts until it’s over.
Cam sat bolt upright, his heart pounding as the dream lingered.
Beside him, Mina blinked and rose up onto her elbow, then reached for him, her warm hand on his managing to calm him. “Hey. Are you okay?”
He nodded, forcing himself to breath normally. “Nightmare,” he said, then rubbed his palms over his face. “Christ. That was—” He broke off with a shake of his head.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” he said quickly. And then he took a deep breath and tried again. “No, it was just a stupid dream.”
That was the truth, wasn’t it? His dream was because of what she’d said at the park. Because he’d let himself believe that they’d gotten past her fears and hesitations, and those quixotic words had snuck into his subconscious, making him fear that he’d been deluding himself.
And hell, maybe he was.
After all, she still hadn’t told Darryl that they were dating. And she still dreamed of working in Hollywood.
He’d been living a lust-filled dream with her, but except for amazing and regular sex, they were right where they were when they’d started. Nothing had changed at all.
Except it had.
The little voice in his head stressed the point again. It had.
And maybe that was true. They were together, after all. They had a connection.
For all intents and purposes, they were a couple.
Hell, maybe if he brought it up again, she’d be just fine telling Darryl. After all, it wasn’t as if they’d talked about it recently.
“Hey,” she murmured, her voice heavy with sleep. “You’re really upset. You want to talk about it?”
He shook his head. “No. It just got under my skin.”
“Well, come here.” She lifted the sheet, inviting him back under, then spooned up next to him. “Better now?”
“Much better,” he said. And he hoped like hell it was true.
“I’m not working tonight,” Cam said on Monday morning as they scurried around the condo, gathering up their personal belongings and putting the place back in order for Kiki and Noah. They weren’t arriving until Wednesday, but Cam wanted to clear out today so that the housekeeper could do a thorough cleaning. “Do you want to see if Darryl’s up for a movie night? I could handle a wild action flick.”
“Sure,” she said, her voice muffled since she was on her hands and knees searching for a lost sock under the bed. “Come on, you,” she muttered. “Show yourself.”
Cam pressed his palm to his mouth to stifle a laugh, then leaned against the wall and watched her. He wanted to capture each and every memory. Because as much as the sex was great—and it was—these were the moments that he truly cherished. The little things that filled the days and made him smile.
The way she talked to herself when she gathered her clothes, which were inevitably scattered across the house. The way she hummed when she brushed her teeth, classical music on the weekends, and The Beatles during the week.
And he definitely loved the way she leaned casually against him as she waited for the bread to pop out of the toaster.
Real stuff. Real life.
That’s what he wanted to wrap a bow around and keep forever, and that was what her comment at the park and the later dream had made him fear he was losing. The entirety of the woman he loved, not the girl he slept with. The nitty-gritty. Every tiny, unexplored piece that he could spend a lifetime discovering.
That’s what he wanted—and he hoped she felt the same way. Because he couldn’t stay hidden any longer. He wanted her. He wanted them. All weekend he’d had to censor his conversations at work, being careful not to reveal who’d he’d been with. And, dammit, he’d hated it.
He wanted to be a couple. For now and, God willing, forever.
He just hoped that when he told her as much he’d get his wish—and not one hell of a kick in the balls.
Chapter Thirteen
Mina had searched every square inch of the condo, and was certain she’d found every stray piece of clothing she’d misplaced over their long weekend in luxury. Which meant that she no longer had any reason for staying well-below Cam’s eye level.
And since he was off the clock until Friday, he was no longer working crazy hours and dea
ling with managerial responsibilities. Any knotty problems she threw at him wouldn’t be one more burden piled on an already challenging day.
In other words, Mina was all out of excuses.
She really wished she weren’t. Because the talk they needed to have wasn’t a talk she wanted to have. But Wednesday was coming up fast, and she was running out of time.
Dammit.
Her Los Angeles dream job had landed in her lap in the form of her new boss’s outgoing personal assistant calling on Sunday afternoon to offer her the pie-in-the-sky job she’d applied for a full three months ago. Hollywood. The Holy Grail she’d dreamt about forever. The Shangri-La where her classmates were making films and building careers.
As far as Mina was concerned, she was at the center of a full-blown miracle, and the one person she wanted to share her news with was the one person who wouldn’t want to hear it. Which was why she’d ended up calling Lydia instead.
How could good news feel so damn bad?
And how was she ever going to work up the courage to tell him?
“Are you planning on doing yoga or something?” Cam asked, a tease in his voice. “Because you’ve been on your knees on the floor now for at least fifteen minutes.”
She lifted her head, giving him a wry look. “Maybe.”
He grinned and reached a hand down to help her up.
“Listen,” they both said at the same time, then laughed.
Since she was getting good at avoidance, she motioned for him to go first.
“If Darryl’s up for watching a movie, I think we should bite the bullet and tell him we’re dating,” Cam said. “I’m tired of pretending like we’re just friends.” He moved closer, then gripped her upper arms. “Aren’t you?”
She nodded. No matter what she still had to tell him, that wasn’t a lie.
“After that, we can just let people figure it out. We don’t need an engraved announcement.”
“No.” Her voice cracked. “No, we don’t. But I…”