Chapter 4
Cameron
Being in such proximity to Juliana is messing with my head. And I’ll deny it if asked, but other places as well. Because she’s wearing a skimpy, two-piece bikini.
Red.
With white polka dots.
On her ass.
The one I get to see now that she’s taken off the leggings and hoodie.
Damn, it’s a fine ass.
Get your mind out of the gutter, Fairbanks. This is Juliana Langley. Little sister of your best friend.
Didn’t stop you last time.
Great, even my brain is arguing with itself.
It’s eighty-five degrees outside, hotter than hell as we walk from the pool to the beach where the tournament takes place.
The nets are always up, unless a huge storm’s coming through, but usually it’s for beach volleyball.
But somebody got the brilliant idea of holding a badminton tournament.
On the nets used for volleyball. I swear it was Silas to mess with me.
Bastard.
“So, what do you think of what you’ve seen of the resort so far?” I ask Juliana as we walk.
Juli.
I guess it suits her, though Juliana is a beautiful name, fitting for a beauty like her. Even without a lick of makeup, she’s gorgeous.
“It’s beautiful. I can tell why Preston never wants to leave.”
“That’s not the reason, but we can pretend it is.” I keep the rest of the thoughts about her brother to myself. They aren’t my secrets to spill.
“The pictures I’ve seen on the website don’t do the views justice. Earlier, I laid down for half a second to rest my eyes, but the bed was so comfortable, I slept for like an hour. I can’t remember that ever happening at home unless I’m sick.”
She continues speaking, giving her thoughts on the small part of the resort she’s visited. I listen the best I can, viewing the resort with fresh eyes.
Every day, I’m more fortunate than the day before to be living this life, co-owner of a five-star resort in Magnolia Cay.
When I imagined my life growing up, it wasn’t this fancy.
A nine-to-five day job, stuck in an office somewhere, doing paperwork.
That’s all I saw for myself. It’s what I knew of my father and most of my friends’ fathers.
Except for Preston. His dad worked long hours, but he had money to show for it.
They even got to go on vacation. All I got was a scholarship to STEM camp.
Which turned out to be a great blessing in the end, so I’m not complaining per se, but I could never have fathomed a place like this.
Preston initially had the idea to invest in a dying resort and brought the rest of us together.
I had to turn it down because I didn’t have the capital to invest. I was barely making ends meet as a warehouse worker, plus the cost of moving to South Carolina wasn’t cheap.
Until Preston called me up one day and told me an anonymous investor had offered a twenty-five percent stake and was mine if I wanted it.
I didn’t hesitate to say yes, jumping at the chance to be involved with Whispering Tide, not thinking much beyond hearing I could work here.
I packed up my shitty apartment, sold what I didn’t need, loaded up my rusty but trusty Ford Explorer, said goodbye to my parents and brothers, and hit the road.
That phone call was four years ago, and I’ve never looked back.
Been back to Connecticut for a visit, but that’s about it.
I’m now a permanent resident of South Carolina.
“Oooh, badminton. Right. We played this in gym in high school.”
Juli’s voice zips me back to the present. She pushes the glasses on her head and observes the games already in progress, light bulbs going off over her head.
“You really had no idea what I was talking about?”
Her cheeks pinken. “Um, no. I ate a salad, but clearly it wasn’t enough to absorb all the liquor in the three drinks I practically chugged.”
Searching her eyes, they’re glazed over. “You want more food? Need to sit down?”
She licks her lips. I ignore the stirring feeling in my pants.
“You know what I want? Fries. Fat steak fries. With a shit-ton of salt and gobs of ketchup. You serve that here?” Her head tilts to the side as she peers up at me, her lashes fanned over her cheek as she blinks.
“By ‘you,’ I don’t actually mean you, Came.
” Her fingers cover her mouth. “Shit. Why does your name keep coming out like that?”
I should keep my thoughts to myself. In no way should I lean closer to her. But damn if her coconut scent isn’t drawing me in, beckoning me like a siren. “Freudian slip?”
She takes a deep breath and holds it for a beat before releasing it. When she speaks again, it’s not what I thought it would be.
“Steak fries. You serve them or not?” She bites down on her tongue, and I have to wonder if it’s a tactic not to say anything else.
I nod unhurriedly. “We have fries.” I dig my phone out of the pocket of my shorts and pull up the app for the restaurant. “You want anything else? A drink? Dessert? Popcorn for the epic showdown that is beach badminton?”
“Is this the restaurant serving those bush things you mentioned earlier?”
“No.” Thank goodness. She can’t handle one of those right now. Nor can I handle her drinking one.
“Shucks. Maybe later.”
“Right.” Probably not a good idea. Although if she has some food, and I tell Natasha not too heavy, she might be okay.
“I’ll have a mojito. Oh, and a brownie.”
I chuckle at her adorableness. “Most random combination ever.” I enter the order. “Anything else?”
“Whatever you want. You gotta eat too, right?”
“I had a big lunch. And saving room for when I take you out to dinner tonight.”
The invite wasn’t planned. Not even a small iota of contemplation went into it. Sure, we talked about drinks earlier, but no one said anything about eating a meal together, let alone me “taking her out.”
She lapses into silence, her eyes staring off at the horizon on the water. “Did I agree to that? I feel like I would have remembered you asking me out on a date.”
Attempting to backpedal, I put my hands in the air. “Whoa. Who said anything about a date? I said dinner.”
“Oh.” She wasn’t ecstatic at the prospect of dinner with me, but the look of devastation plaguing her now tugs heavily on my heart.
I take a tentative step closer, and when she doesn’t move, I take another one. Tiny steps until I’m definitely in her bubble.
“You seem disappointed.”
Her tongue peeks out and moistens her bottom lip. I refrain from moving an inch.
“I have to eat. You have to eat. We should do it together. At the same table. Not a date. Friends. Like we were.”
“Except I’ve seen you naked.”
Oops.
To Juli’s credit, she doesn’t react outwardly.
“So that means we can’t be friends?”
What I neglected to remember about Juliana Langley is how much she challenges me. How she pushes me to do things I wouldn’t normally do. How she questions my actions, gets me to say stuff I don’t say, take it back, and then end up doing it anyway.
Not wanting to say what’s on my mind—or something I’ll regret—I change tactics. “Remember when you were confused earlier about badminton?”
Brows pinched together, she’s baffled by my abrupt change of subject. “Yeah?”
“I don’t get this.”
“This, as in . . .”
“This.” I wave my hand between us. “You. Me. Friends. Not friends.”
“You think I get it? This is why I was hoping not to run into you while I was here. Too much . . . feelings.”
She didn’t want to see me during her visit? What the hell?
“What does that mean? Too much . . . feelings? Which doesn’t make any sense, by the way. And why didn’t you want to see me? Is there bad blood between us?”
Bad blood? Who am I? Taylor Swift?
“Now who’s not making any sense?”
“I’m kinda thinking neither of us. This is weird. And awkward. So, dinner? We’ll chat about our lives, except this conversation or anything else that may or may not confuse the other.” What the hell? Might as well put it all on the line.
“As friends?” Her voice is hesitant, but for the life of me, I don’t know why.
“We could be friends. Or you could be my best friend’s little sister, and I could be your brother’s best friend.”
“I do enjoy that trope.”
Now my head is spinning.
“I’m sorry, what?”
She waves me off. “Never mind. You, me, dinner. Later tonight. At a restaurant here at the resort. Or in my suite. I hear the room service is good.” The girl shrugs her shoulders, as if she didn’t invite me. To her hotel suite. For dinner.
“And we’re back to awkward and confusing. I thought I’d have a headache after watching badminton, not before.”
“I’m not sure why I said that.”
“What are you sure of?”
Her comeback is immediate. “I want steak fries. With salt and ketchup. And a brownie. Substitute water for the mojito. I’ll have a bush thing later tonight when we somehow end up at a place that serves food.”
And we’ve circled back to the very beginning of this odd conversation.
“Right. Let’s start there.” I finish up her order, adding a water for myself before submitting it. I’m not sure of much of anything at the moment, but with certainty, I say the one thing I know to be true. “Ready to watch the most boringest game on the planet?”
“When you put it like that, how can I resist?” Juli giggles. It’s super cute and infectious, and I can’t help but join her.
Maybe this tournament won’t be so bad.
Nope, still bad, but much more tolerable with our commentary.
I’m supposed to be the announcer-slash-commentator for the event, but Juli takes over the minute I miss one opportunity to make it more fun.
In between time-outs and the different games, she stuffs her mouth with fries.
Slathered in salt, she dipped each one in ketchup more than once.
Damn if the double dipping and the way she sucked off the ketchup didn’t have my cock tenting my shorts.
Thank goodness we’re sitting at a table I had the brilliance of setting up earlier.
In the end, a team of a grandfather and his two elementary-aged grandchildren takes the crown. Don’t ask me how. I couldn’t tell you the rules of badminton, let alone directions to get to my house right now. Apparently, the “too much . . . feelings” didn’t end because the conversation did.
Once they receive their trophy and the guests have gone their separate ways, Juli and I are left alone, save for the crew cleaning up the beach.
“Okay, those fries were delicious. And this brownie isn’t so bad either.” She rips off a piece and shoves it in her mouth. I swear she moans, but I can’t be sure if it’s intentional or not, nor if she realizes she’s doing it.
“I’ll pass along your compliments to the chef. He’ll be thrilled.”
“What time are you done with work?”
I consult my watch. “Now.”
“I need a shower. I smell like suntan lotion and ketchup.”
I want to tell her she smells divine, but thankfully, I’m smart enough not to go down that path. It will only confuse the hell out of us more. And we’ve been confused enough to last the rest of her trip.
“Do you need to change?” She stares at me earnestly. She’s sobered up a bit, the food and passing of time helping. I almost feel bad allowing her to have the Bushwacker, but part of me thinks she won’t let it go.
“I have to go home. Not really dressed for the restaurant.”
“You’re the owner. Pretty sure that gives you free rein.”
While she’s not wrong, I need space from her. And a quick shower. To make sure my dick behaves tonight throughout the meal. I won’t refer to it as a date.
Not sure I’m convincing even to myself.
“I should probably shower, too. Wash off the stupid sand.”
Her eyes twinkle. “Still hate it?”
It’s my turn for wide eyes. “You remember that?”
“Just now. When you said it. Does it impede your ability to work?”
It’s an ironic aversion, but it started when I was young, and I’ve never outgrown it. Just learned to deal with it.
Most days.
“I tolerate it. Otherwise, I’d be out of a job. And I love all the other parts of my job.”
“How long do you need to get ready? How far away do you live?”
“Three minutes driving, twelve minutes walking.” I point down the beach. “Just down the beach a ways.”
“On the beach?” Her voice pitches on the last word.
I shrug my shoulders. “It’s a beach town. I could live somewhere else, but it’s convenient for work at the resort and when I have to go to the marina for some of the bigger excursions.”
“I like the enigma you’ve become, Cameron.”
“There’s a lot more of me to expose.” I look at my watch. “Say ninety minutes? I’ll meet you at Harbor Spice.”
Joy still fills her expression. “And we’re going as . . . so I can dress accordingly.” Juli raises her eyebrows at me. Again, it’s a bit of a challenge, or that’s how I choose to interpret it.
Without putting too much thought into it—I don’t need to be confused as all hell again—I declare, “Two people learning about the other’s current life. No more expectations than finding out who Juliana Langley is at . . .”
She purses her lips. “At what?”
“Your age.” I can’t remember how old she is.
“Thirty-two.”
She hardly looks a day over twenty-five, but now is not the time to say that. Nor probably think, in case my mouth should attempt to blurt it.
“Not so ‘little Langley’ anymore, huh?”
“That wasn’t ever me. Elisa’s held that position since before I met you.”
I’d forgotten about the youngest Langley sibling, though there’s a picture of the three of them in Preston’s office.
Rather than get into anything else for the time being, I stand up from behind the table we’re still sitting at and pat her shoulders. “Ninety minutes at Harbor Spice. I’ll grab us a good table. Wear more clothes than you’re wearing now.”
I stalk away, down the beach, before she can form a response, though I think she gasps. As I walk, I tamp my dick down.
Dinner with Juliana Langley is not for him.