Chapter 14 Mistaken Identity
Mistaken identity
I wake up the next morning feeling a little sore and giddy as hell.
Last night was… well—technically this morning—was mind-blowing.
Lucas was mind-blowing.
I haven’t felt this good, or this satisfied in a long time.
Sean and I haven’t had sex in a month and when we did, it was never like that…
Not for lack of trying. It’s almost like my body was trying to tell me that he wasn’t right for me before I even realised it.
Thank God I’m not working at the salon today, and my shift at the bar doesn’t start until later tonight.
Gizmo snuggles into my side, her soft fur tickling my arm as I stroke her absently. Poor thing’s been cooped up in this motel room for too long. I really need to find somewhere more permanent. Especially now that I found out Sean isn’t going back to work. Great.
I pick up my phone and start scrolling through my contacts, looking for the number Tyler gave me. His mate, Emerson, apparently has a place I can stay.
I pause when I see the name Ty saved in my phone.
“Please don’t be a psycho, Emerson,” I mutter under my breath, opening a new message and typing:
Me: Hey, it’s Camille.
Tyler mentioned you have a spare room and I might be able to stay there temporarily? Only thing is, I have a cat, Gizmo. She’s super sweet. Let me know if that is okay? If it is, I’d love to catch up when you’re free so I can have a look at the place.
Camille.
I stare at the screen for a second before hitting send. I need to make sure this guy’s legit, and that the place is okay for both me and Gizmo.
To my surprise, he replies almost instantly.
Emerson: Of course you can stay with us, Camille. And your cat Gizmo too. You’re welcome to come by today and check the place out. Tyler should be home as well.
Perfect. I didn’t expect him to be free so soon.
I type back quickly:
Me: Thank you! I can swing by this afternoon on my way to work?
Just send me a pin of your address when you get a chance please.
I take a breath and set my phone down, feeling a little spark of hope. Fingers crossed this works out. Gizmo and I could really use a win right now. My phone pings again and I see I have a text from Danielle.
Danielle: Hey girl, how did you go? Did you get some?
I laugh out loud. I have to tell her.
Me: Haha yes, the pool table may need some extra cleaning tonight…
I feel embarrassed but also proud that I stepped out of my comfort zone and just had the best sex that I’ve probably ever had.
Danielle: Yessssss my dirty girl! I knew you had it in you.
Gosh I love her. I feel like we will only get closer now I’m not with Sean.
Me: Did you go home with Tyler?
Danielle: Okay, I did, but nothing happened. Nothing will happen.
Honestly, I thought they would’ve hit it off. They seem so alike—they have the same vibe, same interests, same quick wit. But maybe that’s what makes them clash? I don’t know.
Me: Fair enough. Let’s catch up again soon?
Danielle: We still doing girls night for your birthday next month? Let’s catch up through the week too? We’ll work out the deets later, I’m too hung over right now to plan anything. Love you xxxx
Me: Still on for girls night. Keen for a midweek catch up too.
Will message you later. Love you too xx
I forgot to tell her about my plan today with the house, but I’ll catch her up when I see her.
I follow the directions on my GPS to Emerson’s place. I force myself to stop fiddling with the hem of my lilac dress.
This neighborhood is gorgeous, definitely way out of my price range. It’s only ten minutes from work and a short walk to the beach.
Coevey Bay is a small town, so how did I not know this area existed?
Probably because I could never dream of affording to live here.
This whole estate seems new. Every house is modern, sitting on at least a few acres. Almost all of them have those big colorbond sheds out the back, and I’d bet good money that most have pools too.
Who is this Emerson guy? He must be loaded.
I pull into the driveway and stare at the house in front of me. It’s stunning. Literally my dream home—modern coastal vibes, surrounded by palm trees, and a huge backyard that backs onto untouched bushland.
I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the nerves, and head to the front door.
I press the Ring Doorbell.
My heart’s thumping harder than it should be. My hands are sweating.
This is ridiculous. It’s just a house tour.
“Coming,” a familiar, husky voice says from the other side of the door.
Wait. What?
The door swings open and my breath catches.
Lucas is standing there, wearing a backwards cap. My weakness.
What the hell is Lucas doing here?
He smiles at me, and I feel it. Those damn butterflies again.
He looks good. He somehow looks even hotter than last night. He smells even better. And all I want to do is kiss him again.
He’s looking at me like he knew I was coming.
Wait, does he know Emerson too? I remember Tyler telling me Emerson is his boss, maybe they work together?
“Hey, Camille. How are you? Come in, come check out my place.” He steps forward and pulls me into a hug, then gestures toward the inside of—hold up, his place?
I blink. “Your house? Not Emerson’s?”
He chuckles. “Yeah. I’m Emerson. Lucas Emerson. Some of the guys at work call me by my last name, was that what Tyler called me?”
I nod slowly, still trying to wrap my head around it.
Lucas Emerson. Of course. Of course it’s him.
Well… I guess the good news is, he’s not a total stranger. I know I’ll be safe with him.
But the bad news? If I’m living with him even temporarily then I want to keep a boundary between us. But I’m so damn attracted to this man, so it’s going to be so hard keeping my hands off him.
I school my expression, fighting the smile tugging at my lips.
“Well, lead the way, Emerson,” I step inside after him.
I’m hit with the scent of lemon cleaner and something warm—like vanilla and cedarwood. Just like my favourite candle.
The house is clean. Light pours in through wide windows, bouncing off soft coastal tones in the home—creamy whites, sage greens, sandy beiges.
The furniture is all clean lines and comfort.
There’s a huge cream leather L-shaped couch, piled with cozy throw pillows.
Timber shelves lined with plants, books, and a few black-and-white photos I don’t dare stare at too long.
A sleek surfboard is propped in the corner, its edges worn in a way that says it’s used, not just for show.
The kitchen is modern with white stone benchtops, gold fixtures, and not a dirty dish in sight.
A record player sits near the window, with a stack of vinyls beside it.
I catch a glimpse of Fleetwood Mac on top. I’m impressed. The man has good taste.
It’s masculine, but not in an over the top kind of way. It feels… lived in. Like someone actually gives a damn about this place. And now I’m going to live here? It’s surreal.