Chapter 3
Chapter Three
~MAGGIE~
L ighting? Check. Phone in the holder thing? Yes.
“Let’s get this done in one take today, okay?” I pace the room and blow raspberries through my lips, loosening up. No one in the family knows that I do this. It’s just a little side thing that’s fun. Different.
I love to sing.
And I’ve found a social media outlet for said singing.
Not to mention, three million viewers seem to enjoy the songs.
I like to sing Irish ballads with candles lit. It’s just me and the camera in the bathroom because that’s where I get the best acoustics. I’ve learned that one-minute songs get the most views, but sometimes I post a three-minute piece if I get carried away.
I turn off the overhead light. In the glow of the candles, I press record and begin to sing about a love lost at sea. I turn up the Irish lilt just a bit, even though I don’t have any accent at all, and thirty seconds into the song, the phone stops recording, interrupted by a call.
“Bugger it,” I mutter, frustrated because that was going to be a great take.
I press the button to answer the call. “Hello?”
“Please don’t hang up,” a woman says, and I furrow my brow. I don’t recognize her voice.
“Who is this?”
“I’m Heather Fisher. I just?—”
I hang up, ball my hands into fists, and back away until I hit the wall behind me.
My mouth is suddenly dry.
“Shit,” I whisper and clench my eyes closed. “Shit, shit, shit.”
I won’t be able to sing now, so I flip the light on, blow out the candles, and take my phone out of the stand. As I stomp out of the bathroom, I call my sister.
Maeve answers on the third ring. “Hey there. You have perfect timing. I was just leaving a showing down the street from you. What’s going on?”
“I just got a call.” I relay what happened and plop down on a chair in my living room.
“And you hung up?”
“Hell, yes, I did. I don’t want to know what she wants, Maeve. It’s been two years, and damn it, I’m moving on with my life. I don’t want to go back there.”
“Don’t you think you should at least hear what she has to say?”
“No. I don’t. Anyway, I need advice, and it has nothing to do with my philandering late husband.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“I’m going out with Cameron tonight, and I need outfit advice. He said it’s not fancy.”
“Okay, then I’d go with jeans and a cute top with a jacket or a wrap. Oh, wear those sexy brown boots you bought on sale. They’re perfect for fall.”
“But…do I like, tuck my jeans into the boots or wear the boots over the jeans?”
“They’re ankle boots.”
I pull the phone away to stare at it, then press it back to my ear. “The question stands.”
“Your jeans will probably fall over the boots. And that’ll be cute, too.”
“Okay.” I take a deep breath. “I’m nervous.”
Maeve laughs in my ear. “Don’t be. Have fun. You know Cam, so there’s no need to worry that you’ve been catfished, that he’s still married, or anything else.”
“Well, that’s a good point. Okay, I’d better get in the shower. He’ll be here in about thirty.”
“Thirty minutes ?” she asks, clearly horrified. “Mags, you should be doing your makeup right now.”
“He said it’s not fancy!” I hate wearing makeup. I’m not the girly girl that my sister and sisters-in-law are. “Why do I need makeup?”
Maeve sighs heavily. “At least wear some mascara and a little nude lip gloss. You’re lucky that you have such wonderful skin so you can do the bare minimum and look great.”
“Fine. Anything else?”
“Have fun. Call me tomorrow.”
“Okay. Thanks. Bye.”
I hang up and walk through the house to my master suite, stripping on my way there. If I have to put on a little makeup, I’d best get a move on.
I stow away my recording tools, which means that I shove it all in the closet and get busy taking the fastest shower on record, then quickly dress, changing my shirt not once, not twice, but thrice , and then get to work on my hair and makeup.
The doorbell rings just as I return to the living room.
The look on Cam’s face when I open the door is totally worth the time I spent with the makeup and blow-dryer.
His blue eyes travel up and down my body, and when he pins me with his gaze, my knees go weak.
“Holy shit, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes. My breath catches, and before I can step back, he cups my face in his hands and brushes his lips over mine in the sweetest, most tender kiss I’ve ever had.
“Whoa.”
He grins against me. “Yeah. Whoa. We should probably go catch the ferry.”
I blink, trying to make sense of the words, but my head is still spinning from the potency that is Cam.
“Mags?”
“Yeah? Oh, right. The ferry.”
I grab my bag and sling it across my body, then wrap myself in my jacket and follow Cameron to his car.
He’s in jeans that mold perfectly to his ass. His button-down is a shade of blue barely lighter than his eyes, and he’s wearing the black leather jacket that’s always made my girl parts sit up and take notice.
Cameron is a deliciously handsome man.
He opens the door for me and presses his hand to my back, guiding me into the car. I love how he touches me. As if it’s the most natural thing in the world—as easy as breathing.
Joey never touched me. By the time he died, we hadn’t had sex in over a year. And that was fine by me because whenever he did want to get laid, he’d just do it. No foreplay. No fun.
I mean, what’s the damn point?
And that’s the last time I’ll compare Cam to Joey. They’re not the same men, not at all.
And that’s just one of the reasons why I’m here.
“So, what are we doing in Seattle this evening?” I ask as he pulls away from my house.
“Dinner and a show,” he replies.
“What show?”
His smile is sly as he breezes through the gears on the standard transmission. “You’ll see.”
“I could eat a million of these shrimp.” I chew the one currently in my mouth and look around the restaurant that Cam brought me to. We can see Puget Sound from our table, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off me. And not in a creepy way. It’s a sexy, I-want-to-devour-you-whole kind of way.
Did I mention that it’s sexy?
“I have to admit,” I continue, “this might be the easiest date I’ve ever been on.”
“What do you mean?” He grins and takes another bite of his steak.
“I already know you, so we don’t have to waste time with ridiculous small talk. We can just talk , you know?”
He nods thoughtfully. “I agree. Also, I get to look at you, and that is a good time.”
I wrinkle my nose at him. “Don’t be cheesy.”
“I’m being honest. I like looking at you.”
I pop another shrimp into my mouth, not at all self-conscious about eating in front of Cameron. My phone rings in my purse, and I frown as I fish for the device, then silence it and put it away.
“Must not be important?”
I force a smile. “No. Probably someone trying to sell me a car warranty.”
His eyes narrow, and he leans closer to me. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Mary Margaret.”
I narrow my eyes back at him. “It’s honestly not important. No emergencies, and it’s not the family.”
He sits back, and I take a sip of water.
I’ll be damned if I let some bimbo my former husband banged and had a kid with ruin my time with Cameron. She doesn’t matter. She’s not a part of my life.
“Do you want me to order you more shrimp?” he asks, changing the subject.
“No, I’m probably eighty percent crustacean as it is. No more for me.”
“How about dessert, then?”
“That’s another matter entirely.” I laugh as the waitress returns to take our empty plates away and leaves us with the dessert menu. “Wanna split some cheesecake?”
“You expect me to share cheesecake?”
“Okay, let’s get two desserts and share them so we each get a whole. How about that?”
“Better.” He orders us the cheesecake and some hot apple crisp with ice cream.
I’m going to weigh fifteen pounds more when I leave here than when I walked in, and I’m perfectly okay with that. I’m enjoying him, the view, and the food.
“I’m dying to know which show we’re going to see.”
“ Wicked ,” he replies.
“Holy shit, you got us tickets? That show’s been sold out for months.”
“I know a guy.” He shrugs and makes me laugh. “I remember you said a few years ago that it’s your favorite, but you’ve never seen it.”
“I haven’t, but the music is incredible. This is awesome, thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. We might be in the nosebleed seats.”
“I don’t care,” I reply honestly. “Hell, we could be backstage, and I’d be grateful.”
He smiles, and the server brings our desserts.
“Cheesecake and Wicked . You’re spoiling me.”
“That’s the goal,” he says around a bite of apple crisp.
“I honestly didn’t think anyone could do as well as Kristin Chenoweth and Idina Menzel, but those women were amazing ,” I say as Cam stops his car in front of my house. It’s past midnight, and we caught the last ferry of the day to the island after the show, which is still sending shock waves through me.
He smiles and then gets out of the car to open my door for me, offering his hand to help me out of the low-sitting car before walking me to the door.
“Did you like it? Or did you just tolerate it for me? Because I’ve been talking non-stop since we left the theater, and you haven’t said much.”
When we reach my door, Cam sighs and braces a hand on the frame, caging me in. “Who can get a word in edgewise? You’re like a kid on Christmas morning, and I’m not complaining. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”
“But did you enjoy yourself?” I bite my lip and let my gaze fall to his mouth. God, I want him to kiss me more than I want my next breath. All through the show, he held my hand or rested his on my leg. We’ve been in constant contact for more than six hours, and damn it, I want his mouth on me.
“I had the best night of my life.” He leans in, and I hold my breath. “And that’s not a lie. It’s the damn truth.”
He kisses my jawline, then drags his nose over my cheek before laying his soft lips over mine in that sweet way he has.
Then, he pulls away and turns to start down the steps of my porch.
My mind reels. I don’t want him to go. But then his words from the other day come back to me, and I smile.
“Are you going to come in or what?”
He pauses on the third step down, then turns back to me.
“I know it’s late,” I continue, “but you could come in for a drink or something.”
He slowly climbs those few steps and walks toward me. “Yeah, I’d like to come in.”
“Okay.” I unlock the door and let us inside, flipping on a light. “Get comfy, if you want. Since it’s so late, would you rather have wine or tea?”
“Tea,” he replies.
“Awesome. Be right back.”
I hurry into the kitchen and fill a kettle full of water, setting it on the stove to boil. Then, I rush to my bedroom and quickly change out of my jeans and boots. Are they cute? Yes. Are they also incredibly uncomfortable? Hell, yes.
“Where the hell did you go?”
I turn just as I pull on some gray sweatpants and see Cam coming around the corner and into my bedroom. At some point, he stripped out of his jacket, untucked his shirt, and rolled up the sleeves.
I have to swallow hard.
“I had to get out of those jeans.”
His blue eyes smolder, all fire and heat as they flicker down to my sweatpants. “Better?”
“Yeah. Sorry, the water should be about ready for that tea.”
“After you.”
I brush against him, totally on purpose, as I walk by and hear him curse under his breath. With my back to him, I let a satisfied smile spread over my lips. I like knowing that he’s as attracted to me as I am to him. That he wants me. And, yes, in the past, that was as annoying as it was satisfying. But damn it, I’m so tired of fighting him. Of fighting myself. I want him. I enjoy him.
I punished us both for two damn years. I think that’s long enough.
I pull two mugs down, drop a tea bag in each, and turn to get the kettle, but Cameron already has it and pours the hot water into the mugs.
“Thanks.” I watch his hands and the muscles that flex in his forearms as he returns the kettle to a cold burner. A vivid memory from that night years ago flashes through my brain, sending an electric jolt through me.
His hands running over my body, caressing my breasts. Dear Jesus, he has amazing hands.
“Shall we?” He raises a brow and points to the living room. I nod.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Let’s go get comfy.”
I can’t sit next to him. I’ll just jump him, and damn it, this is a date, not a one-night stand. So, I curl my legs under me in the chair across from the couch where he sits and sips his tea.
He’s been here before. He even spent the night once after a customer gave me a right hook to the face, and Cam stayed to make sure that I was okay. But he’s never been here like this. When I know that I’d take my clothes off if he told me to.
We’re crossing a new line.
“Either you need to calm down or strip out of those clothes. Because the sexual tension is so thick in this room, I could cut it with a knife.”
I stare at him in surprise, and then I tip back my head and laugh. Can he read my mind? Maybe. But the situation is suddenly so funny to me, I can’t hold in the laughter. I’m being silly. I’m no virgin. And this is Cameron Cox.
He’s right. I need to chill the hell out.
“I didn’t realize I was being funny,” he says at last.
“ I’m being ridiculous,” I reply and reach for a tissue so I can wipe the tears from my eyes. “Okay, I’m okay. Whew. Sorry.”
“Are you really okay?”
“Yes.” I chuckle and sip my tea. “How do you like your new house?”
“It’s great. I had to replace the A/C unit two weeks after I moved in, but otherwise, it’s a good place.”
“Is it an old house? I think Maeve mentioned that it was built in the last century. And yes, that makes me sound old, but Maeve is the expert, and she says stuff like that all the time.”
He chuckles and nods. “Yeah, in the 1960s. So things are bound to need fixing or replacing.”
“Are you handy in that area?”
He sips his tea. “Yes.”
“Oh, good. I’m not handy, but this house is relatively new, so I haven’t had much to repair. Is your house haunted?”
He blinks in surprise, then slowly shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. Do you believe in that shit?”
“I’m Irish. Of course, I do. My old house, the one Joey bought, was haunted. Not with Joey because I’m pretty sure he’s burning in hell, but with something or someone else.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw her.” I shrug. “You know, I realize that although you’ve been in my life for as long as I can remember, I don’t know a lot about you.”
“What would you like to know? I’ll answer anything I can.”
“Well, I know that work is off-limits.”
He raises a brow.
“Yeah, yeah. Okay, do you have siblings?”
“No.”
“Do you see your parents often?”
He sets his mug aside. “Also, no. My parents are pretty shitty. Mom left when I was small, ran off to marry some guy she’d been having an affair with. My dad still lives around here somewhere.”
“Like, here here? On the island?”
“Yeah. He’s an alcoholic and wasn’t really a good role model for me. I don’t like to think about what might have happened if I hadn’t met Kane. Your family has been my family since I was in junior high. Tom and Fiona showed me what it is to be good parents, and your dad had many a serious talk with me whenever I screwed up. He paid attention, and they loved me.”
“I’m so glad that you had that in your life, Cam. And I’m sorry that your parents are shitty. But it’s their loss.”
“Is it?”
“Pfft, yeah. I mean, you’re great. You have a fantastic career and good friends. You have a good life . And they’re missing it. But they don’t deserve to be a part of it, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.” He watches me for a moment. “You’re really far away.”
“Yep.”
“Why is that?”
“Because if I sit over there, I might make a fool of myself. I’m safer over here.”
He licks his lips. “What might you do, if you were over here?”
“I don’t think I have to spell that out for you, Mr. Cox.”
He laughs, and then to my utter surprise, stands up and rounds the ottoman that separates us, picks me up, and returns to the couch to settle me in his lap.
“There.”
“Okay, I admit, this is pretty comfortable.” I lay my head on his shoulder and loop my arm over his chest. Yawning, I settle in against him. “I could sleep here.”
“Why don’t you go ahead and do that?” He kisses my forehead. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.”
“Your legs will go to sleep, too.” But I yawn once more and feel myself drifting. “If I get too heavy, just move me.”
“Stop worrying so much.” He kisses me again. His voice rough with fatigue, he says, “Trust me, everything is just fine.”