Chapter 7 #2
Cameron stands on the other side of the door.
He looks edible, even through the distorted, tiny lens.
Energy pulses through me, so much I forget I’m wearing only a robe and throw the door open.
He’s wearing a different pair of cargo shorts—navy blue this time—and a T-shirt with the resort’s logo splashed across his broad chest. The yellow and orange hues complement the blue of his shorts.
Weird association, Juli.
“Um, I don’t think I texted you yet?” My voice pitches up on the last word, posing what I know to be true as a question.
He holds up a brown bag. “I brought breakfast. And coffee.” I was too busy ogling the colors of his attire, I totally missed the contents of his hands.
Forgetting all manners, I reach out and take the coffee. He’s not holding it out to offer it to me, but does that stop me? No. No, it does not. And I don’t stop there. Nope, I immediately take a sip and moan the instant the flavor hits my tongue.
Strong.
Dark roast.
Black.
Which I usually detest, but damn is it satisfying.
“Yep. This is what I need right now.” I take another sip before deciding it needs some sort of cream. “Wish I had some milk or cream.”
With his now free hand, Cameron pushes the door open wider, sneaking past on my right, into my room. “Sugar, cream, milk, and some non-dairy options if those tickle your fancy.”
At first, I’m not sure what this list of ingredients means, but when I shut the door and turn around to face the room, he’s sitting at the table, digging all kinds of containers out of the bag.
“Make yourself at home,” I mumble. To be honest, I can’t understand why. I don’t mind him being here. Especially because he brought me coffee and, from the looks of it, food. My brain still a bit fueled by last night’s alcohol, it’s too much to unpack right now.
“Sit, Jude. Have breakfast with me.” His eyes skim up and down once. “Nice outfit. If I had known we were going cazh, I would have worn my sweats.”
“Shower. Robe. Knock. Coffee,” I sputter.
Cameron’s face lights up in amusement. “Oh, a game. I like it.” He rubs his hands together before exclaiming, “Things you need to do to get ready to go out.”
Laughter bubbles up from inside, and I can’t keep it contained. “You’re funny,” I finally admit after a few minutes, once I’ve composed myself.
“Haven’t changed much. Humor is still at a teenage level some days.” My stomach growls from lack of food, a perfect segue for him to command, “Sit. Eat. Enjoy.”
With a quirked brow, I wonder, “Am I a dog?”
“Not in any way. But unless your stomach grumbles all the time, I’d assume you’re hungry.” He doesn’t even think about the answer, nor look up at me when he says it.
“Famished.” I sit across from him, tightening the tie on my robe. I didn’t miss the way his eyes traveled to my chest more than once.
There are containers of French toast, waffles, fruit, bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, and a lone cinnamon roll. My eyes get stuck there.
“I already ate. It’s all for you.”
My head picks up at Cameron’s voice. Then I slowly survey the food again. In no way can I eat all of this, let alone half of it.
Like a sixth sense, he alludes, “You don’t have to eat it all, Jude. I didn’t know what you’d be in the mood for or what you’d prefer for breakfast. Be sure to fill me in, and next time I’ll bring that.”
Again, it’s all too much to unpack, but my brain attempts to process it.
It begins with him bringing me breakfast, all different choices, because he wasn’t sure what I liked. This alone sets my heart soaring. But my mind gets tripped up on the “next time.”
“I like pancakes.” It’s meant to be a joke, but I realize it’s the wrong thing to say when he does his own inspection of the plates, and his expression falters.
“The one thing I didn’t bring.” He goes to stand, but my hand on his stops him.
I smile, hoping it eases some of the missed joke. “I’m kidding. This was so sweet of you. And I’m really eyeing the cinnamon roll.” Cameron’s eyes blink swiftly, almost as if he can’t tell if I’m being honest or not.
“Have at the cinnamon roll then.” His butt plops into the chair as he pushes the plate with the sugary goodness over to me. Then he swipes the coffee cup. “This wasn’t quite for you, though.” Much to my horror, he swigs some.
My mind scrolls back to how I grabbed it out of his hands. This coffee he brought for himself, apparently. Wow, rude much?
But then the working part of my brain reminds me he mentioned something about milk, indicating it wasn’t for him.
Of course, the one thing I focus on is who the coffee was intended for, but I need it. And he’s now drinking from it.
“Um, ew. Did you drink from the same cup I did?”
He nods. “Like it’s a big deal?” Not for him, obviously. But I’m not certain how I feel about it. Of course, he’s quick to remind me, “We’ve swapped spit before, Jude. Actually, way more than spit if I’m not mistaken.” The damn bastard waggles his eyebrows, knowing what he spews is the truth.
It was a lot more than spit that night. Even in my mouth.
But that was a long time ago. Who knows where his mouth’s been lately? An image of him drinking my mai tai yesterday and me not caring wiggles into me. I survived that.
“I’ll get you another on our way out,” he backtracks.
“Two, if that’s what you need. I was only joking anyway.
I brought it for you.” His apology is contrite, as well as the way a sincere expression engulfs his face.
It’s quite endearing. He’s endearing. Which isn’t news to me.
Though, it’s been a long while, and we were young. Who knew Cameron still cared so much?
To show him I’m over it, I take the cup and unscrew the lid, adding a double splash of milk before inhaling a bit more of it. It hits the spot immensely, Cameron’s germs only adding to the pleasure.
“We really are so bad at this, aren’t we?”
“Why though?” I ask instead of answering his question. Because I don’t have a great answer for him. In fact, I don’t have any response.
“Hell if I know.”
“Awkward or not, it’s nice hanging out with you.” Heat flushes my cheeks admitting that truth. And if I’m completely honest, other places below the waist, too.
A text chime from my phone interrupts wherever this awkwardness was heading. “Oh, crap. I need to get ready.” I look between the text from Erica telling me what time I need to be ready, the table full of food I need to indulge in, and Cameron. His expression has changed to conjecture.
“There’s an incredible restaurant in Charleston. We could continue this titillating conversation over a table there.” His lips quirk up into a smirk.
“I hate for all of this to go to waste . . . ”
The entire sentence isn’t out of my mouth before he packs up the containers. “I’ll put it in your fridge for later.”
My hands swipe the cinnamon roll. “I’ll eat this as I get ready.” I start for my bedroom, turning around to face Cameron. “Thanks for this. All of it. And for packing it up while I get ready to go. Lunch will be my treat.”
“That’s only fair. And probably dinner, too. And maybe breakfast in the morning. I’ve got a tab going for all you owe me.”
If not for knowing Cameron years ago and the way his statement exudes sarcasm, I would think he was serious.
“Don’t push your luck, mister. I could easily avoid you for the next few days.”
“Ha. I’d like to see you try. I know where you’re staying.”
My mouth drops open, and I don’t have the audacity to close it before I saunter away to get ready. “Don’t drink all my coffee!” I call out as I shut the door behind me.
“You ruined it with the milk. It’s definitely all yours now.”
My hearty chortle fills the huge bedroom.
Whether he’s serious doesn’t matter.
It’s fun to trade barbs with the likes of Cameron Fairbanks.
I slip into a maxi skirt and tank top, not bothering to dry my hair. Once I get outside, the humidity will have it dry in no time. With a hair tie around my wrist for later, I emerge from the bedroom to find Cameron relaxing on the couch. He almost looks like he belongs there.
The thought is sobering.
“Took you long enough. I thought I was going to have to postpone our boat ride tomorrow with how much time you wasted.” He stands up, his gaze traveling down the length of me and back up until it meets my eyes. “You look cute. The cowboy boots are a nice touch.”
His words hit me straight in the feels. Especially because his comment is genuine.
Sliding my glasses onto my head, I say, “I know. Thanks for noticing.” I threw them in at the last minute, not sure I’d get to wear them, especially in the humidity of South Carolina.
Now I’m glad I didn’t leave them behind.
My skirt swishes around the boots as I make my way to the door, grabbing my bag, phone, and coffee cup off the now vacant table. “The cinnamon roll was delish.”
I feel him behind me before he speaks. “If you weren’t in such a rush to eat it, I would have suggested warming it up for about twenty seconds, allowing the icing to get gooey and sink in.”
Damn, that sounds amazing. I ignore the dig about how fast I ate it.
“They serve those every day here?”
“If you know where to look.”
I spin on my heel, though I’m not at all prepared for him to be so close to me.
I have to tilt my head back to peer up at him.
I didn’t notice earlier, but the green of his eyes is more emerald today.
And he definitely shaved this morning, though I much prefer the look of his five o’clock shadow from last night.
Hopefully, it will make a reappearance at some point today.
I have the oddest urge to touch him, needing to know what hides below his T-shirt, but I keep my fingers fisted at my sides.
“Since you know where to find them, how about you bring one tomorrow morning? Along with some pancakes,” I tack on. Might as well go big.
“I told you breakfast’s on you tomorrow, Jude. Keep up.” He saunters around me, holding the door open. “You have everything you need?”
Not in the slightest, I think.
Because what I need is more of Cameron in my life.