by McGee,J. B.
I have plenty of money, no thanks to my father. I couldn’t care less about social standing. This is probably all thanks to my dad. I learned long ago that none of this shit, that no amount of money, is worth much if you sacrifice the ones you love for it. At every function, I’ve watched Oliver climb the business ladder, acquiring more and more clout, all the while dismissing Cammie like she’s a shiny object with no brains or feelings. I squeeze my fists together in my lap, resisting the urge to jerk him up by his collar and use him as a punching bag. There’s no one who deserves attention more than her, and it’s clear, just like all the other times, Oliver chooses his own interests over Cammie’s. Every. Damn. Time.
Pushing the chair out from the table, I drop the cloth napkin on my plate, but grab Cammie’s meal. I’ve had plenty of time to eat, but she’s barely had a bite. To think that all this time, I’ve thought I had to wait until the date to show her she’s made a mistake. The minute we locked lips in the cabana, my plan has been somewhat thwarted, but in the best of ways. She can deny she experienced any pleasure from our tryst, but she definitely responded to me. There was no doubt she was turned on.
I’ll find her, feed her, make sure she gets enough so she doesn’t pass out, and I’ll try really hard not to pressure her. Even if I held the same professional position as Oliver, I’d never put my business dealings, or anything else, above her feelings. Above her. In fact, I can’t imagine any priority or obligation being important enough to cause her pain. This is my chance to demonstrate that I have a kind heart because, unbeknownst to most, I do.
Unfortunately, I’ve been so busy watching Oliver I didn’t see the direction she headed. Logic tells me she’s at one of two places: the restroom or the cabana. The bathroom would be packed, though, so my better guess is on the last place we were alone.
My strides are long and brisk. As soon as the cabana is within sight, I see the door isn’t completely shut. My instinct, once again, is spot-on. Grinning, I tap on the door before entering. “Cam, it’s me.”
“I obviously wanted time alone. So, fuck off.”
Damn. “You’ve got quite the potty mouth these days.” I chuckle. “It’s fucking hot as hell, but I told myself I’d be quiet, so I’m gonna shut up now and just come in. You don’t have to talk. You don’t have to act like I’m here, but you need to eat somethin’.”
She doesn’t say anything, so I push the door open, closing and locking it behind me. “Here,” I say, offering her the plate.
Her chin lifts and we’re staring into each other’s eyes, a standoff of sorts. She offers a small smile, which her furrowed brows contradict. Over the years, I’ve memorized her facial expressions, but I’m not sure if she’s glad to see me. Or not. “Thank you, but I lost my appetite a long time ago.”
“You need to eat. Just a few bites. Don’t make me beg more than I already have tonight.”
She’s on the sofa, her elbows resting on her knees, glaring at me. “I thought you said you were going to be quiet.”
Pulling a chair over, I place it in front of her, then sit down. “I said I would be quiet while you ate. If you’re not going to eat, I’m gonna annoy the hell out of you till you do.” I slice a piece of the filet, jab it with the fork, and offer it to her. “Want me to shut my mouth, then open yours.”
Cammie’s lips barely part, close, and then open again. She leans forward, accepting the delicate morsel. Atta girl.
While she chews that, I honor my promise to keep quiet. I cut the rest of the meat into pieces. I inch closer, offering her another bite. She moves closer too. Soon, we’re mere inches from each other. Her warmth, her flowery, sweet scent makes me reposition myself in the chair to keep my raging hard-on at bay. When I notice she has something in the crevice of her lips, instead of offering a handkerchief—like a gentleman would do—I gently brush my finger over the spot. I never said I was a gentleman. Or did I? I don’t care. I just want to touch her, to suck those lips until they’re swollen. I want to taste every bit of her mouth with mine.
Fuck.
I refuse to kiss her again after what happened earlier. I thought she wanted it then, but now, the only way that’s going to happen is if she initiates it or asks for it. But even with that said, there’s no way in hell I’m backing away, giving her any space. I’m staying put right where I am hoping she’ll be the one to beg me to finish what we started earlier.
I follow her eyes as they wander to the framed photo of our families near the entry. She’s standing with her brother, mom, and dad. Violet, my baby sister, and I are in front of Mom and Dad. Those were the good ole days. So good it hurts like a bitch. Her face tightens and her eyes squint. Seeing that picture, that look on her face, works better than a cold shower.
“Thank you for bringing me food. That was really sweet.” She stands and points to the door. “I should probably go.”
Focus, Holden. I put the plate down and close the small amount of distance she put between us. “Do something for me the next couple of weeks until our date, will you?”
Her head tilts. “What’s that?” The crease I’ve seen on her forehead most of the night disappears.
I brush a stray piece of hair away from her eye. It’s so fucking soft. Her breath hitches, and so does mine. “Really observe how he treats you, Cammie. I mean, think long and hard about whether you can be happy for the rest of your life with him.” Shoving my hands in my pockets to keep from grabbing her head and pulling her into a kiss, I take a step back. “Even if you decide after our date you still want nothing to do with me. I just want you to be happy, Cam. And I don’t think you are.” What I want to say is that I want to be the one to make her happy, to please her in every way, to be the name she screams when she’s falling over the edge of ecstasy, but I can’t be responsible for her frowns and tears any more than I already have been tonight. My family has caused hers enough anguish. I don’t want to be the cause of her confusion, but rather the spark that lights the path to clarification for her. I want her decision to be abundantly clear, preferably before our date, not after.
She doesn’t say anything. She just swallows, nodding before unlocking the door, opening it, and walking out. Twice tonight I’ve had to watch her leave me, and that’s not something I want to get used to. That, or the heaviness that resides in my chest each time. But I’ve done what I came to do. Hell, I’ve done far more than I could’ve dreamed. I tasted her lips. We did the dance of lovers. And I fucking won her auction. Now, the only thing left to do is win her heart.
No pressure.
Entering the tent, I notice Oliver isn’t at the table, so I scan the bar area. Typically, that’s where they go to hang out—him and his little work friends. I see Luke. He throws his head back a little and smiles at me. But no Oliver.
Why would I stick around here if he’s nowhere to be found? The trip to the cabana wasn’t quite the escape I wanted or expected, especially once Holden arrived. He’s showing me sides of him that I didn’t know existed. Regardless of my opinion of Holden, the questions he’s raised and his feelings of Oliver have me questioning everything.
After a leisurely trip to the ladies’ room, my stomach rumbles. But I can’t go back to the tent. I’m sure Holden’s made his way back, and I’m just not ready to face him again. Or any of those other people who realize that my fiancé bid on someone else’s package.
My feet make their way to the guest pantry. While I told Holden I didn’t want to eat at the cabana, the few bites he fed me were enough to spark sharp hunger pangs. At least, I think that’s what these are. Who knows what’s causing the myriad of foreign feelings in my body tonight?
Of course, to get to the pantry, I have to travel through a maze of halls. Prior to reaching my destination, I glance at the little nook Amie, Holden, and I used to hide in when playing hide and seek. It’s an empty space below the staircase. Literally the perfect place to tuck yourself away without being seen.
I’ve always thought it was weird that nothing was put there
. No closet. No shelves. It would have been a perfect place for an upholstered bench or even a desk. The area has always seemed so wasted.
“I told you.”
A familiar voice catches me off guard. I quickly slide in like I used to do, feeling like a five-year-old child. My chest begins to bounce at an increasing rate, as if I’ve just run a marathon. My hands cover it like that’s going to make it slow down. Instead of panting, I try to slow my breathing down by inhaling and exhaling through my nose, but despite all this effort, my pulse pounding in my ears nearly drowns out the other voices.
“I told you I should have bid on her package or you should have at least made yours closer to something she liked. Now she’s pissed, and I have no fucking idea where she is.”
My eyes widen. He planned this?
“You’re forgetting the goal was for you to not get her package, which you didn’t. I don’t know why you’re so upset.”
Charity?
Yeah, I’m not hungry. I’m about to throw up. My arm moves, and my fingers cover my mouth to keep me from spraying this little hideaway with vomit.
“The goal was to not get her package, but to make it look like an innocent mistake.” There’s a pause. I wish I could see what is going on, but I’m also praying they don’t find me. “She thinks I’m an insensitive asshole because the package was what I like and not what she likes.”
Charity laughs. “Well, aren’t you?”
He huffs.
“Anyway, look,” she says. “You told me if I arranged this pretend date so you could go on a business trip with your little boyfriend, Ken, then I could get a promotion.”
Ken? As in Ken McIvoy? As in a man? What. The. Fuck?
Of course, it all makes sense. I was a business transaction to him. I was a way to cover his secret. He didn’t want to touch me, to kiss me, to make love to me.
“In case you haven’t noticed or need reminding,” Charity continues. “I’m a good girl. I’m not an expert like you at being sneaky, lying, and or hurting people’s feelings.”
Good girls don’t participate in shit like this. I want to tackle her, strangle her, and beat the ever loving crap out of her. No wonder she was being such a bitch to me at the auction.
Bile starts to quickly rise in my throat. I dash for the bathroom, not even caring if they see me. Tucking my chin down, I focus my eyes on the floor. I run smack-dab into something solid. Funny because it’s not like there are any steel beams or columns between me and the bathroom. Feet come into view, and I know whose they are.
Instead of bouncing back, arms are around me in an instant. I gasp for a breath, for air, and my nose is filled with a scent I’ve become all too accustomed with tonight. He pushes my head against his chest, muffling my growing wails and cushioning the fall of my tears.
“Shh. I got you, tigress.”
“I…” My body heaves. “I…h-he…O-Oliver…Ch-Charity.”
“I heard it all. You don’t have to say anything else.”
There’s no ‘I told you so.’
There’s no cocky comment.
Just sweet, loving, tender Holden. A side of him I haven’t seen since before everything got complicated. Since I watched him at the end of E.T. “Shh,” he says as he rubs circles on my back like Amie did at the auction.
The auction. This isn’t just two old friends. This isn’t just us. We’re not alone. My body shudders.
Did anyone else hear what just happened? I’m too mortified to even look. Is there a scene? This entire night’s been a clusterfuck. It’s gone the opposite of how it was supposed to because this isn’t supposed to be my life. But it is.
As I inhale a deep breath, the taste of salt drips into my mouth. I can’t fall apart here. It’s unacceptable. No matter what has been dealt my way. Composure is as essential as the air I breathe.
I suck in a breath, wipe my face with the back of my hand, and sniff. Holden reaches into his pocket and pulls a handkerchief. His scent is assaulting me from all directions. But I don’t care about that. There’s only one thing I do actually give a fuck about. “Get me out of here, please. Go the back way. Take me back to the cabana or take me home. Just please get me the fuck outta this place.”
He holds my head between his hands. “You have to know I had no idea about him and Charity. I absolutely had no fucking clue he was gay.” He slowly brushes a few stray strands of hair stuck on my cheek. “And this isn’t the way I wanted for you to be begging me to take you somewhere.”
I glance into his eyes. They look different. I’m not sure what they are expressing. For as long as I’ve known Holden, I should know his looks.
But I guess the only ones that really stick out to me are the cocky, sly grins. He’s not wearing one of those now. His lips are in a thin line, his brows furrowed. He almost looks pained. And with everything he’s been through, that’s a look I’ve never seen before tonight. “I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry, Cam.”
“Don’t be. You were right. He’s the asshole. I’m sure Webster would agree.”
Holden grins, which causes the corners of my lips to lift upward. “He’s worse than that…to use you…to hurt you because he can’t be true to who he is.” Tilting his head, he chuckles. “Wait. Does this mean your opinion of me being an asshole has changed?”
I smile, then look down at the ground. “Maybe.” Yes.
“Hmm. Well, I just paid an insane amount of money to be able to continue to prove to you that I’m not what you think. Like, as in I’ve never been on a date quite so expensive. And there’s no way I’d pay that kind of money to go on one with anyone other than you.”
I smile thinking of the amount we raised for the cancer benefit. Being stuck in that stupid soundproof room kept me from hearing how much he did actually bid on mine. Hell, or how much fucking Oliver spent on Charity. “How much did the date cost you?”
“Doesn’t matter, Cammie. You’re priceless to me.”
Mark your calendars. The Date is $0.99 and available for pre-order. It releases October 29, 2016! As a special thank you bonus, I’ve included an exclusive sneak peek at the first chapter.
Maybe Holden Masters isn’t all bad.
He releases me from our embrace, which makes me only long to be back in his arms that much more. Because while I’m in them, it’s like we’re teenagers again for a minute. Teenagers before our world flipped on its head. None of this other bullshit matters.
“Cammie?” Oliver’s voice cracks. My body shudders. If I never hear him again, it’ll be too soon. “It’s not what you think.”
It’s like my arms and legs are attached to a ball and chains, like my feet are glued in place. Trying to swallow proves impossible. The only part of my body that responds to my commands is my eyes. Except, maybe I don’t even have control over those because tears seep from my lids in a steady stream down my cheeks as I glance at Holden.
Shocker.
He’s staring daggers at what I assume is Oliver. Holden’s jaw is so tight, and every once in a while it ticks. I wonder how many of those ticks it will take before Holden explodes like a time bomb. He needs to keep his cool, though. Creating a scene at this function would not only be an embarrassment to the club, to the event, but ultimately to his mother. Holden’s made it clear for years he couldn’t give a rat’s ass about what anyone thinks of him. That included me up until tonight.
I think.
Finally, my body starts to cooperate. I slowly glance over my shoulder, afraid of what I’m going to see. Has a crowd of onlookers gathered? Did they hear everything? Is that why Holden looks like he’s geyser waiting to spew.
Oliver fidgets with his hands before slightly moving his feet. He’s closer than I expected, and thank fuck it’s just the four of us. I’m not sure if the space Oliver just filled is even enough to be considered a step. It’s like he’s a hostage negotiator. He’s proceeding with extra caution because he doesn’t know what’s going to tip me off. Or maybe he’s afraid of Holden. If Holden was loo
king at me the way he’s looking at Oliver, I’d be running in the opposite direction, not coming closer. “Let me explain,” he says. Maybe it’s just the scene he fears I may make more than either of us. Like if he keeps me calm, he’ll keep me rational—like he can reason with me to keep his secret. “Cammie, please. It’s not what you think.” He shakes his head. “It’s not that. Let’s go somewhere private so I can explain.”
I bet he can. And he should be worried because I’m pretty sure I’ve heard enough. All of it makes me want to pitch the biggest fit, but I don’t want to be the cause of embarrassment for Ms. Masters, for my parents. There’s not much I fear more than social ridicule.
Shaking my head, I part my lips, once again sending the message from my brain to a part of my body to function, but the words I want to say flee before I can utter them. How could he do this? My stomach starts to roll at the mere thought of him being with someone else other than me—man or woman—then coming back to our bed. I would have rather him broken off our relationship, but that would have put him back in the situation of being single. Fuck. What if I had not heard this tonight? What if I’d married him before I found out?
Before I ran into Holden, I’d hoped to make a clean break without Oliver knowing I’d overhead. I need time to wrap my brain around all these questions. Of course, Holden thwarted yet another one of my plans tonight. While I know Oliver and I have to talk at some point, probably sooner rather than later, now isn’t the time. Someone’s bound to walk by and see me in Holden’s arms, but I can’t seem to push myself away from him. That probably has a lot to do with the death grip he has me in. I’m not complaining. I get now why babies like to be swaddled. It’s comforting to be so wrapped up in something or someone you feel impenetrable. But more than anything, Oliver and I can’t talk right now because I can’t seem to form a single sound.
