Chapter 3
Leah limps out of her bedroom with no boot or scooter in sight. Camille lowers the bat to rest on her shoulder, stepping to the side.
“What do you mean, what have I done?” the man asks Leah, his eyes darting between her and Camille as he lowers his arms. “You’re the one who has some chick staying at my place. Did you not think that I wouldn’t recognize such a blatant attempt to throw some crazy chick on me?”
Camille glares at him. “What did you call me?”
Wade raises his hand protectively between them as if he’s expecting her to hit him with the bat for the name-calling.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he gasps, rising to his feet. “It’s been a long day, and all I want to do is get some sleep.”
“I’ll have you know,” Leah starts, her voice straining as she takes a pained step forward, her right hand on the wall for support. Camille lowers the bat, walking over to her, wanting to help, but Leah shakes her head, her eyes locked on her son. “If I was going to set Camille up with anyone, it would be your brother.”
Camille stares at her, confused by her admission. Leah doesn’t look away from Wade.
“Now apologize for bursting in here and projecting your fears of commitment.”
Wade frowns, rolling his eyes slightly. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
“Don’t apologize to me,” Leah retorts, pointing him to Camille. “The company has a decent-sized deal on the table, and you just made the inventor of Oxygen Recycler chase you through my house with a bat.”
His eyes enlarge, glancing over at Camille. She can tell that he had no clue who she was. He shuts his eyes as he gently says, “I am sorry.” His eyes open, meeting hers. “I hope I didn’t scare you too bad.” A slow one-sided grin stretches across the left side of his mouth.
Camille lowers the bat to her side. “It’s okay.”
Leah nods approvingly beside her.
“I’ve always wanted to beat a home intruder senseless, but,” she glances at Leah, “it probably wouldn’t be a good idea since he’s your son, and I’m hoping to work with you.”
Leah grins, opening her mouth to respond, but Wade beats her to it.
“Especially when he’s also the Chief Financial Officer of the company.”
Oh no.Camille internally cringes, the humor in her face falling as she turns to stare up at the man she’d nearly hit over the head with a bat.
He chuckles, his eyes drifting down to the bat hanging at her side. His brow furrows. “Is that my bat?” He steps forward, taking a closer look.
“Would you look at that?” Leah exclaims, examining the bat in Camille’s hand. “You were going to protect me at the expense of a hundred-year-old bat?”
Camille raises the bat looking it over. “I didn’t—”
“Everything okay?” Buck asks from the end of the hall, his hand tucked behind him.
“Everything’s fine,” Leah answers. “Just my son, making a grand entrance.”
Buck dips his chin at Wade, lowering his hand from his back. “Evening, Mr. Bloom.”
“Your timing leaves much to be desired,” Wade grunts, waving a hand in Camille’s direction. “Miss Inventor over here would’ve had me laid out already, using my own bat to beat me if my mother hadn’t stepped in.”
“To be fair,” Camille counters, looking down the hall at Buck, “I thought he was an intruder, especially after he said he was going to kill her.” She looks pointedly at Wade, who shakes his head.
“It was a figure of speech.”
Buck breaks into a broad grin, looking from Camille and Wade to Leah. “Thank God for moms, am I right?”
“I may still let her do it,” Leah smiles, glancing at her son, “you could use some sense beaten into you.”
“I am more than open to the idea that home invaders should be beaten,” he says, smirking out the corner of his mouth at Camille. He steps up to her, raising his hand. “As long as it isn’t with one of my collector’s items.”
She looks down at the ground, handing over the bat. Mistaking the homeowner’s son for a robber was embarrassing enough, but when she sees what she’s wearing, she feels like a complete idiot. She looks the part too wearing: her pajama top with pants that are covered in wrinkles.
“Let me know if you ever want a job in personal security,” Buck says to Camille, turning from the hallway.
Leah waves a hand at him. “Night, Buck.”
“He’s impressively quiet,” Camille murmurs, watching Wade hold the bat with white-glove-like care, “I bet he can take an intruder without any warning.”
“Okay, for one,” Wade states, holding the bat to symbolize the number, “I am not an intruder. I grew up here.”
“You clearly have more growing up to do,” Leah mumbles to herself, loud enough for all of them to hear.
Wade ignores her, keeping his eyes on Camille.
“And two, it’s his job to protect us. There are cameras all over this place, so he knew exactly what was happening. I’m sure he got a good laugh over it.”
“Great,” Camille groans quietly. She pictures Buck sitting in a small security room laughing at the screen, watching her sneak after Wade, carrying only a bat to defend the house. She looks up to see Wade staring at her just as appraisingly. She crosses her arms over her chest self-consciously. “So should I get a hotel room?”
Wade’s gaze drifts from her up to the ceiling, pursing his lips as he thinks it over. She looks to Leah.
“Of course not, dear. I have nine other bedrooms you can choose from.”
Wade exhales loudly, looking down at Camille. “You can stay in my apartment, with one stipulation.” He holds the bat up again. “No touching the priceless décor.”
Camille stares up at him, pursing her lips as if she was thinking it over a second. Small dimples form in his cheeks as he waits for her response.
“I agree to those terms, but to be fair, the way Delilah talked about how Wade kept everything so clean, I assumed that Wade was the name of the housekeeper.” She smiles at him, his dimples deepening.
“I’ll let it go this time as long as you don’t do it again,” he laughs.
He has a great laugh. The kind that makes her want to laugh along even without hearing the joke. He grips the bat in his hand, sliding the other into his front pocket. She realizes that he isn’t wearing a black shirt and pants like she’d thought in the guesthouse; they’re deep blue, nearly the same shade as the sofa in his apartment.
“Housekeeper,” he repeats, glancing at his mother, “that’s a first.”
Leah chuckles as she nods in agreement. “You have come a long way from when you used to stuff everything under your bed when you were little.”
“Alright,” he looks back at Camille. “You get the guesthouse. It won’t kill me to stay under the same roof as the lady who birthed me.”
Leah shakes her head in amusement.
“Sorry again for scaring you.” He sticks his hand out for her to shake.
She keeps one arm over her chest, taking his hand in hers. “Sorry for almost beating you with a bat.”
He holds her gaze, his smile turning sincere. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”