Chapter 8
Camilla
Ding dong. Bam! Bam! Bam! Ding dong.
“What the hell?” I yawn and glance at my alarm clock. It’s a quarter to seven in the morning. If I ignore whoever it is, they’ll go away. I put another pillow over my head. It doesn’t help. I still hear the constant ringing.
Ding dong. Ding dong.
Why aren’t they leaving? I thought there were laws against soliciting before nine AM. I yawn, stretch, and lay my head back down on my pillow.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
Shit. They’re not going to leave. Begrudgingly, I get out of bed and take a quick peek in the mirror. My hair is going in directions I didn’t know were possible. I reach for a tie and pull it up into a ponytail before heading down the steps to answer the door.
Bam! Bam! Ding dong!
“I’m coming!” I yell as I rush down the last three steps. I unlock the chain, then stop, realizing I didn’t bother to ask who it is. I don’t know anyone here, and I’m not expecting any deliveries until this afternoon. I lean against the door and put my eye to the peephole.
I feel a dryness in my throat as my breath catches. I recognize the large, burly man standing on the other side. Closing my eyes, I turn and lean my back against the door, planning my next move. Shit. I don’t have a next move. He already heard me call out, and it’s not like anyone else lives here.
“Camilla? Are you okay?”
Fuck! What is he doing here? I ball my hands into fists and spin back around to face the door. Breathe, I remind myself before I reach for the knob and open it. Go one breath at a time.
“Stone? Do you have any idea what ungodly hour it is?”
“How are you going to run a bakery if you're not up before everyone heads to work? You need to be up much earlier than this—”
“I’m getting my rest now before I have to—“ I catch myself mid-snap. I don’t answer to him. “What are you doing here?”
“Good morning to you, too, sugar.” He pulls his hard hat off and holds it in front of his chest, giving me a glimpse of his dark brown hair.
With a side part, it falls to his eyes in a sexy, messy way.
I’m too busy examining him to notice the moment his eyes fall from my face.
When I attempt to meet his stare again, I catch him inching them down my neck and chest. He doesn’t stop there; his eyes rake all the way down my legs. Thank goodness I got waxed last week.
“You certainly are a sight in the morning!”
I’m not sure how he means that, so I allow my stare to follow his, and fill with embarrassment when I realize that I’m standing in a loose-fitting tank top that allows a sliver of skin between the bottom of my shirt and the top of my pajama shorts to show.
Uncomfortable, I tug at the top, stretching it so that it covers my too-big belly.
“Why are you here!?” I snap, raising my eyes, but stopping short of meeting his. I’m too embarrassed, so instead, I focus on his lips.
“I picked some supplies up that I wanted to drop off before work. I made a small sample of an arch that I wanted to show you to make sure we’re on the same page.
If you unlock the door, I can bring it all in, along with paint swatches for you to sort through, and then we can talk about everything when I come back tonight after work. ”
Supplies? After work? I tell myself this isn’t real.
I must be dreaming. Stone has no reason to bring supplies.
I haven’t heard from him since I left his friend’s cafe three days ago, and Eternal by Design hasn’t gotten back to me with an estimate yet.
I rub the sleep from my eyes and blink them a few times to be certain I’m awake.
“Are you okay, Camilla?” His voice rasps with concern. “You haven’t said anything.”
“Why?” I ask through a yawn. “Would you bring paint if Eternal by Design doesn’t paint?
“To be clear, I didn’t bring paint, just colors for you to choose from.”
“I haven’t heard from you or your company about the estimate in days, and I haven’t given you a deposit.”
“I know.” He turns his hard hat around in his hands. “But you want a lot of work done, and if it’s alright with you, I can drop by before and after work to paint. For free. If you can forgive me for being rude and give Eternal by Design your business."
“I don’t need charity,” I say with my hand on my hip, now fully awake. “You’ve already used up your good deed quota on me.”
He shakes his head. “This isn’t charity. It’s an apology for being a bit of a blockhead the other night.”
“A bit?” I snigger.
“Do you want me to help you or not?” His deep voice booms, startling me with his thunderous outburst. He squeezes his eyes closed and hangs his head. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I’m trying to do something nice.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know!” He scrubs his hand over his face and sighs. “I don’t know,” he repeats in a lower voice, with a shrug. “But it’s not to be charitable. I want to do something nice so you’ll like me.”
He wants me to like him. I don’t know what to make of that answer, and take another couple of breaths to digest it before responding. “Give me a minute. Wait in front of the door,” I point to the storefront door. “I’ll be right there.”
“Okay.”
I watch him go and think about the best way to handle this before opening the other door and letting him in. Maybe Stone isn’t the a-hole he’s shown himself to be so far. Maybe I should say thank you and see what he brought.
My belly flip-flops as I unlock the hallway door leading from the apartment entrance into the storefront and enter the main room.
I look around before opening the door to let Stone in.
As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right, there is a lot to do here.
Maybe having him as a friend wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.