Chapter 11
CAM
“You know I’ve got a cleaning crew coming in the morning,” AJ says. His amused smile turns my knees to jelly this time, so I turn back to the sink and keep rinsing plates. I’ve seen that smile about a million times in the last decade and I’ve never, not once, felt weak at the knees.
But clearly everything is different now.
Because in the past he probably would’ve kept watching me washing up, and he’d have started yapping about whatever gossip he heard at the cookout, and what wife or girlfriend had a friend he just had to meet.
This time, though, he walks over until his hip is touching the top of my thigh and starts drying the few dishes I’m cleaning up.
He didn’t need to tell me about the cleaning crew for me to know they’re coming to make sure his house is back to perfect tomorrow, but I need something to do with my hands.
I don’t want to get carried away like we did two days ago, and I know damn well if he even comes close to kissing me, I’m not going to be able to resist him.
And I need to resist him.
After two days of doing what he said—thinking about this from every possible angle—my head can hardly focus on anything but AJ.
Besides, coming over to his celebratory cookout, hanging out with his folks, his friends, and everyone who matters to him basically, made it really hard for me to remember any of the points I had in the “con” column I made on Friday.
Everybody loves AJ.
As far as today’s guests are concerned, he’s never done one single wrong thing in his life and he deserves to have statues of him placed in every corner of the city.
The fact that I feel the same way—maybe less intensely—is irrelevant.
He’s my client for fuck’s sake, and my friend.
But . . . isn’t that a cliché for a reason? All those old married couples who made it last for decades upon decades always say they married their best friend.
I know thinking about marriage is a bit over the top and intense, especially when nothing between us has even really started, but the other option, if we give this a shot, is that we ruin a working relationship other agents only dream of, and one of the most meaningful friendships in my life.
“What are you thinking so hard about?” AJ’s soft, deep voice brings me back to the present, where the platter I’ve been washing for ten minutes is for sure clean by now.
“I don’t want us to ruin our friendship, AJ.”
I’m not even gonna mention the working relationship right now, because honestly? It is an awesome thing that we work so well together, but it’s the least important thing in this case.
I’m also not about to tell him nothing, because this is the furthest thing from nothing. This is serious for me, very serious.
“I don’t want you to think I’d ever hook up with you and not have it matter to me, AJ.”
“I would never think that,” he protests, and when I don’t say anything for a long moment, he takes the plate from my hands, sets it down on the stack in the sink, and shuts off the faucet.
Then he takes my shoulders and spins me around.
“You know me almost better than anyone else, Cam, and I trust you as much as I trust my family. I know it’s scary.
Believe me, I’m scared too. But the thing is, I know you really well too. Please trust me.”
There’s a desperation in his wide blue eyes that I really hate. I don’t want to make him feel like this, but I have to make him understand, I can’t just let this slide and go along as if it isn’t potentially devastating.
“This isn’t about trusting your intentions.
” I assure him of that, because that is something I can say with absolute honesty, but .
. . “How can I not be afraid, AJ?” I ask him, my tone as defeated as my gut, but I stare right at him.
I won’t look away this time. “You do know me, and you know I don’t do casual, that I don’t want casual, that I’ve always dreamed of—” I clamp my mouth shut.
He knows what I was going to say, there’s no need to humiliate myself any further.
“You know that’s one of my favorite things about you?” The small smile on his lips as he leans back a bit stalls my breath in my throat.
“It is?” I ask incredulously.
“Oh, yeah.” He nods a few times and grabs onto my biceps for a second, then trails his hands up and down my arms. “I’ve never felt that .
. . need to be around someone else all the time.
A specific person, I mean.” I nod to show I’m listening, that I understand, because I know AJ isn’t afraid of love, of a relationship.
I know he respects my wish to have a relationship that’s true and lasting, and kind.
“I’ve never tried with anyone, not really, because it never felt worth the effort.
I never felt enough for any of them for it to be worth it, Cam. Do you understand?”
I nod again, and then I shake my head. I don’t actually understand that, I . . .
“You always try,” he whispers, but that smile is still intact, and there’s not a single trace of anything but tenderness and care in his eyes.
He doesn’t pity me, I realize, he . . .
“I think that’s one of the bravest things anyone can ever do, and I know it hasn’t paid off.”
That breath that was stalled in my throat? It disappears.
AJ sees me.
More clearly than anyone else.
And with that simple statement, I know I can try again. With him.
“You believe it can pay off now.” It’s a statement, not a question, but he nods in answer anyway.
“You’re the only person who’s ever made me want to try, Cam.
So I’m not just asking for a hookup.” He takes a step back, a big one, and I feel the absence of his warmth instantly.
I reach for his hand, not ready to completely break that connection, and that beautiful smile grows. “I’m asking for more.”
And fuck it if I don’t want to give it to him.
“My parents are flying out on Monday.” The change of topic is jarring, but it takes me a fraction of a second to understand where he’s going with this.
“And I’m flying out a few hours after as well.
I want you to come with me, Cam. For a week at the ranch where I can show you my life, and we can have some space away from everything to . . . try.”
Is there any world in which I could even try to say no?
I doubt it.
The third time I fall off the “mild mannered” mare AJ picked out for me, I regret not trying harder to resist him.
I could be in LA right now, stuck in traffic inside my luxury car and drinking my favorite coffee, slowly, like a civilized person.
But no, instead I can feel the mud soaking my T-shirt yet again and even getting under my damn pants.
Even as he hurries off his beautiful, big brown horse Arthur to help me up, his cackle of laughter is infuriating while at the same time being the one thing that makes me glad I did come with him.
“You said she was sweet,” I mutter.
“Her name is Sweetie Pie, Cam.” As far as defenses go, I guess it’s a good one.
“But why does she keep throwing me off her back?”
That definitely doesn’t come out as a whine.
“She’s not.” There’s still a laugh in his voice, but the tender look in his eyes softens it, I guess. “She just starts to move and you fall right off.”
I was worried about that.
“I told you I've never been on a horse,” I mutter.
“I know, I have a better idea.”
It’s a bit humiliating, sure, that all his nieces and nephews learned on Sweetie Pie, without anyone steering the horse on foot, but when AJ takes the reins and places his hand on my thigh, it doesn’t feel quite as terrifying when the big, big animal under me moves.
“Now you take them,” AJ says softly after one minute of walking and turning and walking.
I hold my breath as I reach for them and brace again for the fall.
“Don’t hold your breath, Cam,” he says, patience brimming from his voice. “She can feel it. If you’re nervous, then she’ll be nervous, trust me.” I take my eyes off Sweetie Pie’s dark mane for half a second and see his blue eyes shining up at me.
Those are eyes I trust. AJ would never lie to me about something so simple.
I let out the burst of air and . . . stay in the saddle.
“Oh, wow,” I whisper.
That is . . . pretty awesome, not gonna lie.
And I’m not going to tell AJ, but I bet my smile is enough for him to know.
He assured me late last night when we made it to his family’s home, that we wouldn’t work out in the fields, herd cattle, or do any of the actual hard work, but that he’d only take on as a kind of administrator.
“Dad’s been hiring awesome people for years, and they have most of it handled. They could do all of it without me here, but he’s a control freak.” He rolled his eyes and I had to poke at him.
“As if you’re not a control freak when you’re on the field?”
“I’m not,” he protested, and I laughed in his face.
He paid me back for that this morning, when he declared that despite not working out there, he wanted us to go out on a ride.
I tried to argue, but he shut me up with a kiss as soft and as mind-bending as the one he gave me when I left his home Saturday night, and then he whispered, “Please?” right against my lips.
I always thought I was a hard person to manipulate, you know, learning from a young age what an asshole man could do to my self-worth, but none of that seems to matter with AJ.
Now I can’t regret my weak will when it comes to him because it turns out I like riding on a horse once I get the hang of it.
And I’m sure Sweetie Pie is bored to tears with our slow pace and the awkward way I move the reins, but she’s as mild mannered as AJ promised. Enough so that only half an hour in, I can actually look up from the back of her head and stare at the beauty of Quick Ranch.
Endless green pastures, small hills, a few bigger ones in the distance, and the cloudless sky shining the prettiest blue I’ve ever seen. I catalogue every little thing about the view—the cattle in the distance, a few men on horses going a lot faster than we are, a few barns scattered around . . .