by Palmer Jones
He blinked, the awareness that she spoke appearing to dawn on him slower than usual. “What?”
“I asked what is wrong.”
“Nothing.”
“Bad day at work?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Bad sleep?”
“No.”
“Bad Chinese food?”
That one earned her a half-smile. “No. I ate pork chops.”
She crossed her arms. “Then, why haven’t you tried to kiss me?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. A small nick from where he’d probably cut himself shaving caught her eye. She recognized the smell of shaving cream underneath his usual smell. Leaning in, kissing that one spot, played over in her mind. They never would make it to Rhonda’s Roadhouse once she started.
“It’s the way you look.”
What? She jerked away. Brian had uttered that same phrase once. He’d told her to stay home instead of going to dinner with him and his friends.
“What do you mean the way I look? I have on jeans and a top.” Her voice raised higher. “A lot of people wear jeans and a top.”
His eyebrows pulled down tight. “You never have. You just look different.”
“You haven’t kissed me because I look different in a pair of jeans?”
He shrugged. “I expected you to be all dressed up.”
Bitterness swirled inside, resentment that he thought of her the same way as Brian. “Well, I’m glad I figured this out now. I’m not trading one controlling jerk for another.”
She began to push past him, but he caught her arm as a deep laugh rumbled in his chest. “Whoa there, lady. What’s your deal?”
“You obviously need to go with someone else if the idea of going with me in jeans is so unappealing you don’t even want to kiss me anymore. Your mom told me to wear jeans, by the way.”
God, she sounded trite, like an annoying brat who didn’t get picked for the kickball team. His sly smile made an appearance. Her insides went to jelly. Each second, he reeled her in closer.
“Seeing you in jeans and”—he picked at the top of the tank top strap—“this is more appealing than anything I’ve ever seen on a woman.”
Wait. She watched him for a trace of a lie. “A lot of people wear clothes like this.”
He let his hand trail down her waist. “Those people aren’t you.” He kissed her, taking his time and bringing her body temperature higher with each sweep of his tongue.
She hooked her arms around his neck as his arm held her up and against him. A faint trace of peppermint on his breath tasted like a drug. She needed more.
They really might not make it to Rhonda’s tonight.
His phone chimed in his pocket.
When it sounded a second time, he brought his head up. “I need to make sure it’s not someone at work.”
She didn’t mind. Tilting her head, she finally feasted along his neck.
“God, Addie.” He rolled his head back before letting out a sarcastic laugh. He held up his phone to her. “Mom said we have time for this after the benefit. We need to get going.”
It chimed again. Addie covered her lips with her hand and snatched the phone before he saw the text.
“What?”
Addie cleared her throat. “She also doesn’t expect to see either one of us until tomorrow. And to have fun.” She paused, and a snort slipped through her contained giggles. “Be safe.” She did laugh now, leaning over and holding onto her knees. Through her laughs, she managed to say, “And use protection.”
He grabbed the phone. “No way.” His face turned a molten shade of red. “How can she still manage to embarrass me at thirty-three? Do I want to know why she used an eggplant and gun emoji?” He ran a hand over his short hair. “Nevermind. Neither one of us is in a position to consider going there.”
She got her giggles under control. That was probably an accurate statement. Too bad Addie had considered. And reconsidered. And considered her reconsideration. Several times. No one else had ever made her feel so comfortable in her own skin. Cameron seemed to like it when she didn’t try. Glasses and sweatpants the other day. Jeans and a plain tank top tonight. The excessive flirting annoyed him. Anytime she was anything, other than herself, he didn’t hide his irritation.
Addie waited until he pulled out of his parents’ driveway before commenting. “And what position, as you called it, am I in?”
Cameron laid his hand along the back of her seat, twirling a strand of her hair between his fingers. “You just broke up with your boyfriend.”
“This isn’t a rebound for me, Cameron. My relationship with Brian was already pretty much nonexistent.”
He reached out and clicked the air conditioning up a notch even though the car already felt chilly as the sun started to lower in the sky. “I didn’t say it was.”
“Then, my break-up with Brian, which was long overdue, isn’t a consideration in what we do.”
He squeezed the steering wheel with both hands. He was like a computer whose security was superficial. He had a bunch of reasons and excuses trying to block her from getting too close, but she’d break through the barrier he’d built after Jennifer.
The truck bumped over the curb and into the crowded, gravel parking lot. A long line of motorcycles sat parked in front of the building. Dozens of trucks and a few small cars filled the parking lot. The people walking into Rhonda’s wore jeans and casual shirts. She’d have to thank Mrs. Dempsey again.
18
Rhonda’s Roadhouse played loud, Southern rock music that had everyone singing along when Sweet Home Alabama blasted through the speakers. Cameron laughed at Addie’s confusion as he handed over his tickets to enter the bar.
“I thought we were in Georgia,” she said.
“Doesn’t matter. Everyone in the South knows that song.” He risked the questionable glances from people who knew him and kissed her temple. No one in Statem knew she was in custody, but they all judged him because of Jennifer. Or pitied him. He hated both.
A thin layer of sawdust covered the rough wooden dance floor erected for the night. The pool tables were pushed against the far wall, giving everyone plenty of room. Christmas lights hung from the ceiling and a disco ball’s tiny silver lights swung around the room. A mix of beer and a faint smell of French fries filled the air.
“Cam!” Becky bounced up and down from a corner booth, waving her hand.
Becky had come through. He pressed his hand along Addie’s lower back and guided her around the crowd in the direction of the booth. Men and women both turned to watch her walk by. Cameron stood a little straighter.
He stopped at the table, surveying his audience. “I think she knows everyone except Nash.”
Dewey toyed with the wrapper on his bottle of water. “Not everyone. Our group is pretty scarce tonight, I’d say.”
“Aw, are you missing your big sis?” Becky pinched Dewey’s cheek.
He jerked away. “No. I was talking about Juliana not being here. Give you someone else to harass instead of me all the time.”
Nash stood up and shook Addie’s hand. “I’m Nash. Went to high school with these jokers, but don’t let that influence your opinion of me.”
“Got it,” Addie said, not seeming the least bit intimidated. She slid into the booth beside Becky. Cameron followed, his body pressed up tight against Addie’s side.
Nash settled back down, finishing his beer and signaling for two more. “Anyone talked to Juliana lately?”
“I’m surprised Becky doesn’t walk around with Juliana on speaker phone all the time. They’re still connected at the hip.” Cameron ducked before Becky’s hand smacked the back of his head. “That’s not a joke, and you know it,” he said, laughing the way he always did when he and his friends got together. Life slid back to a more relaxed pace around them.
Becky sat back in her seat, sipping on her typical white wine. “I spoke to her on the way here. She’s excited to graduate college. Said she’s ti
red of being the oldest person in the dorm.”
Nash shrugged one shoulder. “At least she got to finish college. Her mom’s death hit her hard.”
“One daughter runs out of town as quick as possible, and the other refuses to leave,” Nash said. He grimaced and looked at Cameron. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry. Eliza’s crappy husband is safe for now. She’s trying to get a divorce and get out of there.”
Dewey sat back, his gaze locked on Cameron’s. “Divorce? You didn’t mention that.”
He shrugged. “You know how Eliza is. She won’t take our advice. Juliana has offered her money to help with the divorce and custody over Carrie, but she refused. Eliza has to do everything on her own. She’s always been so damn independent. That’s what got her into trouble in the first place.” Cameron took a sip of the beer Nash ordered for him, swallowing down his frustration for his cousin’s situation. He couldn’t help Eliza tonight.
“Who is Juliana and Eliza?” Addie asked the table in general.
Becky, always ready to talk, answered before Cameron had a chance. “Both are Cameron’s cousins. Juliana’s my best friend, despite the direct bloodline to him. She’s off finishing her degree. Better late than never. And Eliza’s her little sister. Lives in Alabama with a piece of shit husband that’s never home.” Becky rubbed her hands together. “But we’re bringing her home. That’s our latest conspiracy.”
“Oh,” Addie said. He didn’t blame her. Becky talked one hundred miles per hour, and if you didn’t keep up, she only made sense fifty-percent of the time.
Cameron took another sip of beer, half empty in no time. Two beers were his limit for the night. Any more and he might not be able to ignore the stroking motion Addie’s fingers made along the inside of his knee where her hand rested. Sex with her would lead to trouble. Complicated, pleasurable trouble.
Nash knocked his knuckle on the table three times. “Next question is for Dewey. How in the world can your sister stand to live in Atlanta?”
Dewey, still curiously staring at Cameron, blinked before smiling at Nash. All his friends considered Eliza like a little sister, so it made sense that Dewey would be concerned.
“Eva says she likes her job. Although, I’m a little worried about her dating. She seems to go out on a lot of first dates.” Dewey tossed the peeled water bottle wrapper to the middle of the table. “I wish I could run a background check on all of them first. She meets them on those internet dating sites.”
Cameron brushed his lips along Addie’s cheek, lowering his voice to a whisper only she could hear. “You should run your own background checks on men you date.” The idea of her ending up with another man like Brian made his hand tighten into a fist before he relaxed it on the table.
She turned her head, her soft lips an inch from his own. Her fingers brushed along his jaw. “And what would I find on you?”
Becky cleared her throat, her eyebrows raised high. “No canoodling at the table, please. Makes the rest of us singles jealous.”
Cameron sat back. “I apologize. Please, continue.” Addie shifted when he did, leaning partly on his chest and resting her head against his shoulder. Perfect fit.
“As I was saying,” Becky began with a raised voice. “Eva is smart. She’ll be safe. She was made for the big city. There aren’t enough shoes in South Georgia to satisfy her.”
“She can have it. I hated living in Jacksonville.” Nash crossed his arms over his chest. He hated discussing his ex-wife more than Cameron despised discussing his ex-fiancé. “No way you could get me back to another major city like Atlanta.”
“You go up to Atlanta all the time,” Dewey said.
“Necessary evil. I need tractor parts, and I can’t find them anywhere else.”
“That’s because most people have given up on tractors as old as yours. It belongs in a museum.”
Becky pointed her finger at Nash. “You could put it in your store when it opens.”
Nash leaned back. “Not a bad idea, but when are you going to agree to sell your cookies?”
“And cakes,” Cameron added. “Best baker in the county. At least that’s what all your ribbons say.”
“Award-winning deserts.” Nash laughed. “Might be good advertising.”
“Cameron,” Addie said, her body shifting away from his. “Why is that girl in the miniskirt over there staring at you like that?”
The whole table turned to look.
“Shit.” Nash’s head dropped to his hands. “How the hell does Gina find me everywhere I go?”
“Oh, she’s looking at you? I guess I couldn’t tell this far away.” Addie grimaced. “Sorry.”
Cameron whispered, “Should have worn your glasses.”
Her eyes widened. Why did it bother her when he pointed it out?
Nash threw a twenty on the table. “I’m out. I don’t care if she’s over eighteen now or not, it still creeps me out to have her constantly flirting with me since the divorce.”
Dewey slid out of the booth behind him, followed by Becky.
“Do you want to go somewhere else?” Becky asked, looking between the two men who towered over her. “I’m a really good wing-woman. Might be able to snag you two a few dates.”
“I’m due on patrol soon,” Dewey said.
Nash chuckled. “There’s not a woman in the world that could interest me enough at this point. I need to go balance the farm’s books.”
“A date with accounting.” Becky wagged her finger at him. “Be safe. Use protection.”
He nudged her toward the door, laughing. “Shut up. I’ll drive you home.”
“Spoken like a true Southern gentleman.”
Cameron leaned back, watching Becky. “I thought you told me once you don’t believe in Southern gentleman.”
She put a hand on her hip. “I don’t believe in the stereotype of the Southern gentleman. A man will open your door or give you his seat because of how he was raised not where he was raised. A Southern gentleman is just a gentleman with a cute accent.”
“Take Nash and his cute accent and leave us alone.” Cameron laughed as she rolled her eyes. He’d wanted Addie to meet his friends, and now, he’d take the time alone with her. He didn’t mind having her curled up next to him. So far, she hadn’t asked him to dance. Good thing since he’d rather hold her close like this instead of trying to concentrate on not stepping on her feet. He sighed, content for the first time in a while.
Nearly two weeks ago, he thought he’d end up throttling her before their time together ended. Now, he couldn’t stop touching her. Wanted to feel more.
Wanted to give her more.
But falling head first into their relationship meant taking a risk he wasn’t sure he could survive. Because there wouldn’t be another woman like Addie in his life.
She tilted back, smiling in a way that he knew, no matter what she asked, he’d say yes.
“Do you want to dance?”
Except that. “No.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Your mom said you would dance.” She scooted around the booth and stood up, sweeping her arm in a big gesture toward the dance floor. “C’mon. I want to see your dance moves.”
“I have no moves.”
She slapped both hands on the back of the booth, trapping him in. “You, most definitely have moves. I’ve seen them.”
Something in the air made him forget his boundaries for one brief second. He leaned up, kissing her in a way he’d never kissed another woman in public before, his teeth skimming her bottom lip for a brief second. Her eyes held a playful, shocked look as he pulled away. “You haven’t seen all my moves.”
She stood, running a hand through her hair, blowing a breath out through pursed lips. “I plan on tempting you enough that you show me every move in your playbook, but for now, dance with me.” She took a step back, as though to go to the dance floor without him. The song switched to the deep voice of George Strait, and it almost pushed him to join her.
Before he could
muster up another excuse, a man dressed like a gussied-up cowboy, almost six-feet-five inches, he guessed, strode right up and asked Addie to dance.
Granted, Cameron hadn’t moved a muscle, but all the good vibes he’d been riding on were sucked out of the room when Addie hesitated, looked to him for a solid three seconds, before saying yes.
And she followed him to the dance floor.
“Dammit.” Cameron rose, chugged his mostly full bottle of beer in one long pull, and mentally prepared himself for the next step. On the dance floor.
The cowboy held her too close as they shuffled around the room.
He made her laugh one too many times.
His hand slid down her back too low for Cameron’s taste.
Cameron’s claim on Addie was about as secure as a string of the Christmas lights twinkling above them, but she was his for the night. For the week until she left.
He rolled his shoulders. As an adult, he jumped at the chance to tell the high school guys that violence isn’t the answer.
Yeah. He hadn’t believed that crap at seventeen and part of him still didn’t buy it. He had the scars on his knuckles and lousy reputation to prove it. To his credit, he’d not punched a man in almost three years.
It was a simple overreaction. It shouldn’t resort to violence to cut in on his date.
But with a past like his, checkered with fights, he didn’t fully trust himself not to throw the first punch. Especially if the man foolish enough to lay his hands on his date didn’t back his ass up.
He tapped the cowboy on the shoulder as they passed.
The cowboy straightened from where he’d been telling Addie something, rising to his full height. It didn’t intimidate Cameron. He’d taken on men his size before.
They always overestimated themselves. Size didn’t win a fight.
“What?” Cowboy asked as he pushed the brim of his fake hat up. His deep voice even sounded phony.
Addie’s eyes widened. She’d likely never seen this sort of man versus man threatening attitude before.
“I think there’s been a mix-up,” Cameron began, shoving his hand in his back pocket to look unassuming and pulling out his real Southern drawl. “You seem to be dancing with my date.”
