7. Nico
NICO
Cameron was as stubborn as a mule, but I loved a challenge.
While the threads of the grudge he was clearly still holding were starting to connect in my mind, the full picture evaded me.
I couldn’t believe that while I was pining about the one that got away, he was sitting here thinking I’d hurt him on purpose.
That was one thing I was sure I hadn’t done.
I’d never wanted to fix anything more than this.
“I’m not who I was at twenty-one. Thank goodness.” I gave a small self-deprecating chuckle. “How about we start fresh?”
Cameron was still tense, his face closed off and wary, but he puffed out a long breath and gave a small nod.
I grabbed the folder with my drawings and scurried out of the store. The bell jingled when I entered again, and I laughed when I saw Cameron standing there with one eyebrow raised.
“Hi! I’m Nico. I heard you were looking for a muralist?”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips before he closed off his expression again. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am.”
I reached out my hand, and he took it. I had a stupid grin on my face as we shook hands. That was part of what I liked about Cameron when we were younger; he was always down to play along with my antics.
“By the time I take you on this fancy date on Friday, you’re going to be bummed you didn’t spend all week fucking me,” I said.
Cameron choked on his mocha.
“You’ll see.”
I’d fumbled things with Cameron the first time around, but there was no way I was going to do it a second time.
Since high school, I’d had the reputation of being a player. Flirting was fun, and I did it indiscriminately, but the truth was, I didn’t actually mess around as much as people thought.
I liked having an emotional connection before getting naked. It made the sex way hotter.
“Whatever you say,” Cam grumbled as he mopped coffee from his chin with a napkin.
“All I’m saying is that if you want your mural with a side of benefits, I’m open to it,” I said, smirking. “I’d be very amenable to showing you how good of a fake boyfriend I’ll be down on my knees, for example.”
Cam’s cheeks flushed red. “I’m good.”
“Mmmhmm.” I glanced at the noticeable bulge in his jeans. “We’ll see.”
“Thanks for the coffee,” Cam mumbled, retreating to the back of the shop. “I’ll let you get to work.”
I pulled out the designs I’d sketched out yesterday and noticed Cam’s chicken scratch across the top of the one he liked most. It involved a Candyland-inspired ice cream queen, a popsicle forest, and a sherbet-colored sunset sky.
It was different from my usual style, looser and more playful, but I hadn’t had real fun with my work in a while, too busy making all the serious paintings for this gallery showing.
I was looking forward to the change of pace.
Measuring the wall space, I did a quick calculation for how much paint I’d need, and I headed down to the hardware store in Mark’s beat-up farm truck.
Not having my supplies was a pain in the ass, but I’d be able to deduct anything I bought, and I wasn’t going to let Cameron anywhere near my receipts.
As I entered, Cameron popped his head out of the back and rushed to help me with my armful of bags. Even when he was annoyed with me, he was still such a gentleman. Or maybe he was as committed to this fresh start as I was. I could hope.
“Do you need help moving the furniture out of the way?” he asked.
“Yeah, that would be great.” I nodded, assessing the space. “A ladder would be good, too, and maybe some fans for overnight to help with the smell, although I did get the low-VOC paint.”
Cameron hummed. “I’ll see what I have in the back closet. If we don’t have something here, I can call Mark.”
“Thanks.”
The corners of his mouth tipped up. That was two smiles so far today, not that I was counting. And my predicament wasn’t improved at all by watching Cam’s pecs flex underneath that T-shirt as we lifted the tables together, moving them out of the way of my work area.
“Do you work out?” I asked, mesmerized.
“Uh… what?” Cam blinked at me.
I let out an awkward laugh. “You are in such good shape. If I had access to this much ice cream all day, every day, I would not look like you do.”
Cam blushed. “Well, I still help out at the farm when I can, and I go to the batting cages pretty regularly.”
Mark and Cam had both played baseball in high school. Why they decided to befriend the nerdy art kid who was new to town was a bit of a mystery to me, but that’s who the Frost brothers were. The whole family loved collecting misfit toys.
If Cam was anything like I remembered, there was a gooey center under that frozen exterior, and I was going to apply heat until he melted for me.
Mark gave me plausible deniability—make up with his brother so he could get married in peace—but I was doing this for me.
I’d show Cameron I was worth it. Because I was starting to realize that maybe the place I belonged was the place I’d been running from all along.
I didn’t want to push my luck, though, so I focused on painting the best damn mural this town had ever seen.
Even with my noise-canceling headphones on, I was aware of Cameron moving around in the back kitchen.
He reappeared with a ladder so I could start taping and draping.
Then a glass of water and a large fan appeared on one of the tables.
By the end of the day, I was sweaty and covered in paint, but the first layer was coming along.
“I’m headed to softball practice,” Cameron said as he appeared from behind the counter. “Did you eat at all today?”
As if on cue, my stomach grumbled.
“I tend to forget when I’m in the zone,” I said with one hand on my hip as I assessed my work.
Cam stood beside me, taking it all in. It was the messy middle, so it might not look like anything to him, but I was happy with how things were coming along.
“I know how you get,” Cam said, far too softly. “I’ll order you a pizza and leave the spare key on the counter. Turn off the lights and lock up when you’re tapped out for the night.”
He still didn’t look my direction, but my heart was a puddle at his words. This wasn’t acceptance, but it was a thawing. I’d cling to it with both hands.