Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
LUCKY HAS NEVER BEEN IN MY VOCABULARY
“Cameron.” My phone flies out of my hand and lands with a thud at his feet. He reaches down to scoop it up, giving me a moment to compose myself.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I wanted to make sure you found your room. I texted you earlier but didn’t get a response.”
“Who is that?” Gabe asks as Cameron passes my phone back to me. My cheeks flame so hot that I am certain no concealer on earth could neutralize it.
Cameron looks down at the screen with a furrowed brow. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were on a video call.”
“Drew! Who is—” Gabe continues, but I smash down the volume button before he can finish his sentence.
“Sorry.” I let out a breath of relief that whatever lively discussion Gabe and Scott are having right now is muted. “Crazy family again. They called as I was responding to your text.”
“Ah.” He nods but does not say more. Instead, we stand there, looking at each other in the doorway.
“Is everything all right?” I prompt, since he can clearly see that I found my room, and as much as I’d enjoy looking at Cameron all night, I need to finish getting ready to make it back downstairs for the wine tasting and to help cover for Leah.
“Everything’s fine. I just . . .” His words trail off as he rubs the back of his neck, avoiding my gaze. I rack my brain for what he could possibly be so nervous to say, until he makes a pointed glance at the phone in my hand.
“Oh!” I say, as his discomfort becomes clear. “Just give me a second to say goodbye to my family, and then we can talk in private. Come in.”
He nods and follows me inside, closing the door behind us.
I excuse myself to step inside the walk-in closet as my brain goes wild thinking of scenarios for why he would want to talk to me alone, all of which are embarrassingly akin to how I imagine a middle school girl with a crush would feel in the same situation.
I am not alone in my assessment, though, based on how rapidly my brother and Gabe’s mouths are moving silently on screen.
Once I am safely behind the door, I turn the phone volume back up just a fraction and whisper, “Before you even start—”
“Why didn’t you tell us that Cameron was hot?” Gabe asks, incredulously.
“Does it matter?” I whisper back.
“No, but it makes things a lot more interesting,” Scott says, with a broad smile.
“Guys, come on. It’s not like that. I am here on a mission—”
“Letting yourself have fun is the mission,” Monika reminds me. “And having a fling with a beautiful man sounds like something right up Epic, Uncursed Drew’s alley.”
“Drew in any form would never be interested in a fling,” I correct, but my words are drowned out under their overlapping encouragement. When they don’t let up, I wave my hand in front of the camera to get their attention and say, “Guys, I love you. But I need to go.”
“Hang on,” Monika says. “Drew, I need you to call me later, please. We need to talk about Evelyn’s book signing at the shop tomorrow. I have some questions about the instructions you left me.”
“Of course,” I say, and make a mental note to email Evelyn to wish her good luck later too.
When I told her that I was going to miss her book signing at the Book & Barrel, she was disappointed that we wouldn’t be able to meet in person.
But when I told her that I was missing it to attend a book retreat featuring her new release, she was tickled.
“Are you going to tell the other guests that you are friends with Evelyn?” Gabe asks.
“No, that’s weird. And we aren’t friends. We are just friendly. Now I really have to go . . .”
“Fine. Be safe. We love you.”
I hang up and take a deep breath before I head back out to hear whatever Cameron needs to talk to me about in private. He stands just inside the door where I left him, looking far more serious than in any of our previous interactions.
“Sorry to interrupt your call.”
I wave off his apology. “It’s fine. My family is crazy, as you already know from my brother’s call earlier. They’ll probably call a thousand more times throughout the weekend, even though they are the ones who insisted that I deserve a vacation.”
A smile turns up the corner of his lips. “Sounds like they love you a lot.”
“They do. I’m very lucky.” I reel at my own use of the word. Lucky has never been in my vocabulary, and now it has been used to describe me twice in one day. “So, what’s up? You wanted to talk to me about something?”
“Yeah, I . . .” he starts, while he rubs the back of his neck again, which I’m starting to think must be a nervous habit.
I look at the clock on the nightstand. I am officially five minutes late for the wine tasting. At least it’s being held downstairs now.
He follows my gaze and stiffens. “Sorry, you must be anxious to get back to the group.”
I do want to finish getting ready, mostly to keep my promise to help cover for Leah, but I am also curious about what he has to say. “It’s fine, I have a few minutes.”
He nods silently and looks down at the hardwood floor for a solid minute before he continues. “I wanted to finish our conversation about the records. From when we were in my office earlier.”
“Oh.” I rock back on my feet. Something tells me that this is not what he actually came here to say, but I play along anyway. Maybe he just needs a little time to warm up. “Do you mean about the Christmas record I was looking for?”
“Yeah, that.”
“I didn’t see it, so I don’t think you have it,” I say, and sneak a glance at the clock again.
He tilts his head to the side as he meets my gaze. “Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure. Unless you keep more somewhere else, but I think I looked through all of your holiday albums.”
“What’s the name of it?” he asks. “I own every holiday record worth having.”
I laugh out loud at how pretentious he sounds, and he smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”
I accept his apology, but I still have the overwhelming urge to mess with him and push back against his confidence. It’s not like Christmas with the Chipmunks is a musical feat, but it’s my family’s favorite holiday album, so that’s worth something.
“The one I am thinking of came out in the sixties, so maybe that’s why you aren’t familiar,” I say, knowing for a fact that my comment will strike a nerve because every collector knows that the sixties and seventies are the golden age of vinyl.
He scoffs, just like I knew he would. “I have Christmas with the Miracles, The Beach Boys album, Barbra Streisand’s—”
“Yeah, I saw all of those. The one I was looking for is pretty niche. You probably haven’t even heard of it, honestly.”
“I’m sure I’ve heard of it. Try me.”
I bite my lip to keep from smiling. I shouldn’t take pleasure in teasing him like this, but it’s the most fun I’ve had all day. “I don’t know. If you’d heard it before, you definitely would have considered it one of the greats.”
“Tell me,” he demands, but his tone is playful.
“I really need to get dressed,” I say, changing the subject. I turn towards the bed where I discarded my dress and pick it back up.
“Not even a clue?” he asks from behind me.
“Are we making this a game, now?”
He nods. “I think we should.”
I head back towards the closet to get changed since this might take a while, and leave the door cracked so we can continue our conversation. “So, you try and guess what record I am thinking of with what? Ten hints?”
“Ten!” he repeats, offended, from back in the bedroom. “I bet I can guess it with one good hint.”
“I don’t know . . .” I call out from behind the door and kick my ratty airport clothes into the corner while I slip the periwinkle dress over my head.
It is long-sleeved and knit, which will keep me warm, but it also clings to every single curve on my body, which I don’t love.
“Doesn’t the fact that it’s a Christmas album from the sixties count as two hints already? ”
“Fine, five hints,” he concedes.
I push open the door and head straight to the sink to use the mirror that hangs above it.
Monika was right, the light blueish-lavender tone of this dress does make my eyes stand out.
They look more golden than brown as I wet my hands and drag them through my unruly hair.
The vanity part of the bathroom is open to the rest of the bedroom, so I catch Cameron watching me in the reflection.
My breath locks in my chest as he continues to look at me with clear, but respectful, appreciation.
“Third hint,” he says, his voice a bit lower than before. “Is it a band, trio, duo, or solo artist?”
I look away from him to finish my hair and then turn around to face him. “It’s a very famous trio. They’ve even had movies and TV shows based around them.”
He considers that while I dig through my bag to find shoes. Monika clearly packed the nude heels to go with this dress, because the only other ones are a pair of white Converse and some tall boots, but I grab the sneakers and socks anyway and decide that what Monika doesn’t know won’t hurt her.
“Is the trio made up of men or women?” he asks next.
I hesitate. Can you consider fictional chipmunks men?
“Ah, a mix,” he says, misreading my pause. “That’s super helpful, actually. Narrows it down quite a bit.”
“No, no, no. Sorry. This trio is all male.”
He narrows his eyes in my direction as I pull on my shoes. “Then why did you hesitate? Are you trying to throw me off?”
“No, it’s just—” I start but wonder if saying it’s complicated would make it too obvious. “Let me try again.” I angle my body so that I face him straight on. “Males, yes. Three males.”
There’s a brief pause, and then we both break out in laughter. “You’re definitely messing with me.”
My jaw drops in mock horror. “No, I’m not! Maybe you just don’t know good music as much as you—”
“Fourth hint,” he interrupts with a grin.
“Fifth,” I correct. “Do you regret turning down my offer of ten hints now?”
He licks his bottom lip and shakes his head playfully at me, and my stomach does that involuntary somersault thing again. “Let’s get you downstairs. I need some time to decipher the terrible hints you’ve given me before I use my last one.”
I bend down to tie both of my laces and then follow him to the door that he is holding open for me to walk through.
“What do I get when I win?” I ask as we walk side by side down the hall towards the stairs.
“You don’t need to worry about that, because I’m going to win,” he says, and I shake my head at the return of that annoying confidence.
The staircase is wide, but we occasionally brush shoulders as we descend. Each time causes my breath to catch in my chest.
When we make it to the bottom, I say, “It’s only fair that we establish something. The satisfaction of you losing will be pretty sweet, but real games have prizes.”
He pauses in the middle of the foyer before we make it to where Ollie and the women wait in the dining room. I stop beside him just as he lowers his voice a bit and says, “I’ll give you whatever you want if you win. Just name it.”
Based on the size of this house and the car that he picked me up in, I could probably name something outrageous, and he wouldn’t blink an eye.
There’s something about the way he said it, though, that makes me wonder if he is suggesting a different kind of prize.
One that is not tangible. Or maybe he meant exactly what he said, and my hormonal teenage brain that takes over anytime he comes near me needs to be pulled out of the gutter.
“I’ll think about it and get back to you.”
A broad smile spreads across his face as if he somehow heard my internal monologue. “I can’t wait to hear what you come up with.”