Six Months Ago
CAMERON
I’d never in my life sprinted to a seat faster than I did when I saw this woman walk through the doors and sit herself at the bar.
Alone.
But only momentarily. Because now I was here, and I didn’t really plan on leaving, not unless she asked me to.
“I’m…Sunny,” she said slowly, like she had to consider whether she wanted to give me her name.
That was okay. Maybe it was the lawyer in me, but I liked a cautious woman.
And Sunny seemed absolutely an apt description for her.
She flashed me a smile, and suddenly, we weren’t in a divey Irish pub with dim lighting on a cold November night, but somewhere warm and maybe tropical. This woman was a blast of fucking sunshine. I could almost feel my skin heating just from the exposure to her.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said, giving what I hoped was an encouraging smile. “If I can’t buy you a drink, can I at least offer a bit of conversation?”
“Maybe.” She pursed her lips in consideration. I tried not to look at them. “Will it be interesting? I can’t stress enough how much I don’t care about whatever workout you did at the gym this week.”
I had to stifle a laugh. “What if I told you I didn’t go to the gym this week?”
Her gaze swept over me, hot and assessing. Because yeah, I had a body that required maintenance.
“I’ll allow the lie,” she said and then immediately took a drink of the beer the bartender placed in front of her.
“Unfortunately, though, I’m not very interesting,” I admitted with a chuckle. “But I bet you are. What do you do for work?”
“I’m a trauma surgeon,” she said casually, as though I wasn’t supposed to be blown away by that.
I settled deeper in my chair, determined to never leave.
“You must have a lot of stories to tell.”
Her eyes shone as she looked at me, like no one had ever asked her to tell stories before, like no one had ever cared.
“So many stories.”