Chapter Thirteen
Camille
By the time the weekend circled back around, nerves had settled into my skin. They sat there humming beneath the surface as I got ready for our next date. Just days before, we sat on the tailgate of his truck, sharing lunch.
We’ve been texting every day, trading late-night FaceTime calls that stretched long past midnight, his jokes catching me off guard and making me laugh even as I folded laundry. Still, this felt different.
I was beginning to see there was truly no man like him.
He was the perfect blend of everywhere he had been and everything he had seen.
There were the small-town mannerisms from his childhood in upstate New York, like the way he always held the door a second longer just to make sure it didn’t close on anyone behind him.
Or the way he loved the outdoors, the smell of fresh-cut grass after rain, and late drives down back roads with the windows down.
Then there was the edge of the west coast woven in with the easy confidence, the way he styled his clothes, and the calm assurance in how he carried himself.
Every piece of him told a story, and the more time I spent with him, the more I wanted to listen.
Taking another step forward, the kind that made my heart trip over itself, afraid I’d find a way to ruin it.
I’d spent the last twenty minutes pacing my living room before finally giving in and heading outside. Now I was standing at the curb, waiting outside as Hunter’s truck came into view.
He drove a massive F-450 in a muted blue-gray, the kind of color that looked different under every light. It gleamed like polished steel, clean but not overtly flashy, and purposeful in the way he was. The cab sat high, tall enough that I’d have to climb, a reminder of how small I’d feel beside it.
And him. It was so him. Solid. Grounded. Larger than life. A little intimidating at first glance, but the kind of intimidating that made you feel safe once you got close.
When he parked at the curb, the engine cut off with a growl, and the silence left behind seemed louder than before. For a moment, all I could do was stare at the shadow of his frame behind the wheel, my pulse already racing. I nearly tripped over my own feet getting to the door.
Before I could reach for the handle, Hunter was already out of the truck. The slam of his door broke the quiet as he rounded the front, moving with that easy confidence that always made my stomach dip.
“Hey, Beautiful,” he said, that grin tugging at his lips before his hand extended toward me.
I hesitated for half a second before slipping my hand into his. His palm was warm, solid, and steady in a way that made my pulse trip over itself. He helped me up into the truck, his other hand brushing the small of my back as I slid into the passenger seat.
“Careful,” he murmured, his voice low enough to vibrate through me.
I looked up, our eyes meeting in the soft glow of the streetlight. “You always this chivalrous?” I asked, aiming for casual, even as my heart pounded against my ribs.
His mouth curved, slow and deliberate. “Only when I’m trying to impress someone.”
I bit back a smile. “And how’s that working out for you?”
His thumb grazed my knuckles once, deliberate and easy. “Guess I’ll find out.”
I swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the seat as he closed the door. Through the glass, I caught the faintest trace of his grin before he circled back around to the driver’s side, completely unaware of the mess he’d just made of my pulse.
He drove us to my favorite taco spot just outside town, the kind wedged between a pawn shop and a car repair place, with faded paint on the walls and iron bars over the windows.
The type of place you’d drive past twice before knowing it was open.
But in Southern California, you know the rule: the sketchier the spot, the better the tacos. And this place? Legendary.
The air smelled of grilled carne asada and sizzling onions, smoky and rich, the kind of scent that clung to your clothes long after you left.
A stereo on the counter buzzed out old ranchera music, blending with the hiss of the fryer and the clatter of spatulas on the griddle.
The picnic tables out front were sticky with years of hot sauce bottles and laughter.
“They have the best fries here!” The enthusiasm was clear in my voice.
Hunter raised a brow? “We’re at a taco stand, and you’re thinking about the fries.”
I smirked, dipping one into the little paper cup of salsa. “Don’t hate. Fries are universal.” I leaned across the table, lowering my voice. “At least I don’t pick tomatoes out of my food like a picky five-year-old.”
That got him. He groaned, dragging a hand over his beard. “Tomatoes ruin everything.”
“Oh my gosh!” I said, popping a fry into my mouth with exaggerated delight. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
He shook his head, chuckling, and the weight between us softened instantly.
The conversation flowed easily, like we’ve been sitting at tables like this for years instead of weeks.
And somewhere between the salty fries, his smirk, and the smoky air clinging to my sweater, I realized just how much I enjoyed this, him, us, the way it felt so natural to be here together.
When we left, we ended up walking by the water.
It wasn’t planned, just one of those things where the night felt too good to end, so we kept moving.
The breeze lifted my curls, the moonlight softened everything, and for once, I wasn’t thinking about bills or homework or who needed a packed lunch.
I was just… me. We stopped by the railing, the water lapping quietly below us.
He leaned against it, arms crossed, watching me with that look that made me feel seen all the way through.
“You know,” I said, trying to lighten the weight of the moment, “you’re not as mysterious as you think you are.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Yeah. You’re stubborn, you drink an unhealthy amount of energy drinks, and you think you’re funny.”
He grinned. “Think?”
“Okay, fine. Sometimes you’re funny. But I still want to know more. ”
He leaned back, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You ask a hell of a lot of questions, you know that?”
I raised a brow. “Curiosity is a virtue.”
“Oh, is it?” he countered, leaning in until I had to laugh.
“I’m a Therapist-in-training, duh,” I shot back, poking his side. His mock gasp turned into a grin as he caught my hand before I could pull it away, brushing a teasing kiss across my knuckles.
He shook his head, chuckling softly, and then his smile faded into something more tender. His eyes locked on mine, firm and intent, he was peeling back every layer I’d tried to hide behind. My breath caught, the air suddenly thick between us.
The world around us seemed to hush. The distant splash of water against the shore dulled, and the cool night breeze brushed over my skin, carrying the faint scent of cypress and lime that clung to him.
It was sharp, earthy, and clean, a contrast that made me feel grounded and lightheaded all at once.
Being this close to him felt like trouble, the kind of trouble I didn’t mind leaning into. I shifted slightly, resting my hand against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under my palm. His warmth bled through his shirt, grounding me in a way I hadn’t felt in years.
My rules, my careful boundaries, they felt flimsy here, flimsy against the weight of his arm draped so easily around me.
For a while, neither of us spoke. The sound of waves crashed against the pier, the salty breeze tugging at my curls. He reached out suddenly, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. His knuckles grazed my cheek, light as a whisper, but enough to send my pulse racing.
“Cami,” he said, voice low, rougher than usual. He said my name like he treasured it.
I looked up, and the way his blue eyes caught mine nearly stole my breath. Everything else disappeared. It was just him, staring at me as if I were the only thing in sight.
He leaned in slightly, close enough that I could smell the faint mix of leather, salt air, and the fresh woodsy scent that clung to him. Close enough that if I tilted my chin just an inch, our lips would meet.
My breath caught. My rules screamed don’t, but my body betrayed me, leaning toward him before my brain could catch up. He hesitated, his forehead nearly brushing mine, giving me every chance to pull away. But I didn’t.
Instead, I whispered, “You’re trouble.”
A slow smile curved his mouth. “Yeah. But maybe the kind you need.”
And then, just before the moment tipped into something I wasn’t sure I was ready for, he pressed a soft kiss to my temple instead.
Gentle. Careful. Like he knew I needed space to want more before I asked for it.
The restraint, the choice to hold back, lit a fire in me stronger than if he’d kissed me outright.
And then my mouth was on his.
It wasn’t delicate. It was greedy, desperate, like he’d been holding back for too long.
His hand slid to the small of my back, anchoring me, as I clutched at the fabric of his shirt.
The kiss deepened, his beard rough against my skin, his breath warm, tasting faintly of.
I felt it everywhere. Down my spine, at the tips of my toes, curling low in my stomach.
Being this close to him felt like fire. If we had not been sitting on the side of the road, looking over the pier, I may have been tempted to break more of the rules I created to protect myself.
This was uncharted territory, and I did not mind.
I leaned into the moment, enjoying his embrace and allowing my hand to feel the swell of his biceps.
When he finally pulled back, both of us breathing hard, his forehead rested against mine. His voice was rough, almost ragged. “Still trouble?”
My answer was a shaky laugh as I buried my face against his chest, giggling like a girl half my age. “Shh, no talking.”
His chest rumbled with quiet laughter, and his arms tightened around me. In that moment, with him holding me with no intention of ever letting go, I knew I was already deeper than I planned to be.
I grinned, unable to help it, still clutching his shirt like I needed proof he was real.
Before doubt could creep in, I pressed my face into his chest, breathing him in.
A nervous laugh slipped out, bubbling up before I could stop it.
His arms tightened, creating a sense of safety that I knew I could hold onto when everything else felt uncertain.
And in that small, imperfect moment, I realized just how much I wanted this. How much I wanted him.