3. Cameron
CAMERON
Mondays and Tuesdays were my sanctuary. We were closed to the public, so I could keep the shades drawn and the fluorescent lights off.
This morning, after packing up the glass bottle returns for Diego to grab on his next milk delivery from the farm, I started on the orange creamsicles. I had upbeat pop music playing over the speakers, my pink apron on, and the sleeves of my flannel rolled up. Time slipped away.
When the shop bell rang, I rushed to put the creamsicle molds in the freezer.
“We’re closed,” I called out in the likely event that it was May, the owner of our local gay bar, Sleigh Queen. He ran on his own schedule. But honestly, as the top diva in this town, I let him in whenever he wanted.
“No rush,” an unfamiliar voice called back.
If I had one million guesses for who might be the cause of the intrusion this Monday afternoon, when I pushed open the door from my back kitchen, I would not have predicted Nico Galanis. But of course, I’d always been terrible at predicting that infuriating man.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” I drawled as I rounded the counter.
On the other hand, I’d only need one guess to predict the person who’d be following Nico into my store. My brother poked his head from behind Nico’s shoulder. He and I looked a lot alike, aside from his longer beard and his farmer’s tan. And even though I was younger, I was taller.
“Be nice,” Mark said, narrowing his eyes at me.
“I am nice.” I shrugged.
“What’s with the frosty welcome, Cameron?” Nico said with a teasing smile.
He hadn’t changed a bit, which annoyed me more than it should have.
He was just as handsome today as he was back then.
Bright blue eyes like the ocean, and thick, wavy hair that he had styled a little long in the back so that the curled ends wrapped around his ears and neck.
Jawbone like a Greek statue. Cupid’s bow drawing my eyes to his lips.
Fingers covered in silver rings. Every feature of his that had been responsible for my teenage bisexual awakening was still there in technicolor, somehow only more vivid now that we were in our thirties. How fucking rude of him.
I rolled my eyes and let him throw his arm over my shoulder. The last time we had seen each other, we’d been in much closer contact and with far fewer clothes.
“You’re not even a little surprised?” Nico asked.
“I am way too surprised,” I said curtly, stepping back to a safe distance, if there was such a thing.
My body, I discovered with great frustration, was still drawn to him all these years later.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I infused the last word with as much sarcasm as I could muster.
Nico’s smile grew impossibly brighter. I didn’t miss the way his eyes took in my body when I crossed my arms over my chest, and I glared at him.
“You know how you were looking for a muralist,” Mark chimed in, stepping between us. “Well, Nico happened to be available, so I asked him to do it. He promised he’d have it done before Creamsicle Day.”
“I bet it’ll take me less than a week, as long as you’re on board with the design I came up with,” Nico said.
“You hired a muralist for my shop without talking to me about it first?” I poked Mark in the chest. This was such typical big brother behavior, trying to micromanage everything, even though I was an adult with a whole-ass business I’d been running for years.
I was the one who had the idea to expand my parents’ dairy, which Mark now manages, into an ice cream parlor where we could sell classics like eggnog and hot chocolate in the winter alongside soft serve and creamsicles in the summer.
It was my blood, sweat, and tears that had built this place, not to mention my college fund.
I grabbed Mark’s arm and dragged him into the back of the shop.
“Family meeting,” I called back to Nico.
He settled into one of the booths, still grinning like a madman, and I wanted to pull his perfect hair.
I’d spent a decade avoiding Nico, and now my brother wanted me to be in a confined space with him for a whole week. There was no way I’d be able to resist him, and I’d already been humiliated enough.
“What were you thinking?” I hissed at Mark. “This is a terrible idea.”
Mark had the decency to look sheepish, his hands raised in surrender. “I thought it was a great idea. I thought you’d be excited.”
“Are you joking?” I said, indignant.
“I don’t know why you’re holding this grudge against Nico after all this time, but he’s a good guy.
And an amazing artist. He’ll do such an incredible job on your mural.
I already showed him a few of the sketches you’d started with the other muralist, so he could work from your ideas.
He’s my best friend, and it’s been years. Give him a chance.”
I hadn’t told him the real story of what happened between Nico and me, so I couldn’t blame him for minimizing it. But I was not going to tell him the truth now, while the man in question was sitting out there waiting for us.
“I’m assuming you already paid him?” I grumbled.
“He’s doing it for free,” he said, avoiding eye contact.
Immediately, my hackles rose. “What’s the catch?”
“Look, why don’t you talk to him?” Mark dragged me back into the front of the shop. “I have to get back to the farm, but you two can work out the details. You’re going to love Nico’s design, and you’re not going to get a better deal than this.”
I hated that he was right. The shop operated on razor-thin margins, and it had taken me years to squirrel away the money for the mural I’d always wanted to have installed in our dining area. Three thousand dollars that walked away with that damn scammer.
I also hated that Mark was right about Nico. Even though I would never admit it, I had a burner account to follow his artist page on social media. Nico was talented.
But I still didn’t want him here in my store.
I was the biggest cliché in the book: a hopeless crush on my brother’s best friend. A tale as old as time. And there was a time when I thought I had a chance with him—one shimmering, liminal moment right before my first heartbreak.
Before I could say another word, Mark was out the door, and I was alone with my greatest dream and my worst nightmare.