by Lisa Shelby
“Well, how are you going to find him if you don’t give anyone a chance? How do you know that one of these guys that you play with like a kitten with a ball of string isn’t the one if you don’t take a leap? You clearly don’t want to flirt and have random hook-ups forever. You deserve better than that. You deserve a good man.”
He’s right. I do deserve a good man, but it bothers me that he thinks I hook up. The fact that I give off that impression makes me uncomfortable in my seat.
I shouldn’t, but I care what he thinks.
“Um…who are you to talk, Liam?”
He clears his throat. “Don’t try to change the subject. We aren’t talking about me; we’re talking about you. Now focus.”
“Listen, I talk a good game, and I can flirt all night, but that’s just what I am. A flirt. I am all talk. I don’t really ‘hook up.’ I know it sounds cliché, but I’m just not that kind of girl.”
He lifts an eyebrow but not in a cocky way this time. It looks like he’s trying to figure out what I mean when I say, I’m not that kind of girl.
“I’m not a virgin or anything like that, and before you ask, it hasn’t been that long, so please don’t ask me how long it’s been. I just don’t give myself to any guy I meet in a bar. I don’t jump into bed with somebody the night I meet them. I’m like any girl who went to college and made mistakes, but I’m thirty. I don’t do one-night stands.
“So, why do you flirt like you do? From the outside looking in it would seem otherwise.”
That stung.
He sees me tense and sit up a bit straighter, and he reaches out and puts his hand on mine. As always, his touch is warm and comforting.
“Cami, please don’t take that like a dig at your character. I know it sounded bad. I just mean you are always the fun, flirty, life of the party. For the last four years, when I would come visit Jonathan and the girls, whenever you were around you seemed so carefree and easy going. It’s one of the things I like about you, Cam. It’s not an insult.”
“I know what you meant. You also sound like you were describing another certain someone at this table.” I give him a wink and squeeze his hand that’s now holding mine to let him know it’s all good.
“Touché,” he acquiesces.
“I think I’ve always been this way. As a kid, I was always fighting for attention from my parents. Some kids act out for the wrong kind of attention and some, like me, do the opposite. I did my best to be happy and do well in school. I was always a bit more gregarious than everyone else, and I have always tried to live every day to the fullest. I make a point to live as happy and carefree a life as possible, and for the most part, I do. I may not be trying to garner the attention of my parents anymore, but seeking out the attention of others kind of stuck I guess.”
He’s contemplating what I’ve just said. Maybe I’ve said too much. Liam doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that has too many deep conversations with women.
“Sorry, TMI?”
He seems to snap out of it. “No, not at all. I think I get it.”
“Do you?”
“I think I do. You flirt. I drink.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“They are both vices that we use to deal with our insecurities. We may act out in different ways and for different reasons but we both have a crutch.”
Liam is insecure? Not possible. I have never seen a more boisterous, egotistical man in my life. And…I know he has a mirror. He has to know that he is as beautiful as any piece of art that you would find in the finest of museums. He’s just trying to make me feel better.
It’s kind of sweet.
“So, are you saying that you know that you drink too much?” I ask cautiously. I’m not purposefully taking the topic of conversation off me and moving it on to him, but I am pretty shocked that he has brought up his drinking.
Standing from the table, he reaches his hand out to me. “I do at times, but it’s something I’m working on. I can drink causally like everyone else, but I tend to go overboard when something’s bothering me.”
I take his extended hand, stand and push in my chair. “You want to talk about what’s been bothering you?”
“Nah, but thanks for asking. Like I said, I’m working on it.”
He puts his hand on the small of my back, and as per usual, the heat from his touch nearly burns through my clothes. There is something about Liam Fanua. I’m not interested in him in that way, but there is still something about him.
Tonight, he walks me to my car.
When I get home and plug my phone in to charge for the night, I notice a text that came through a few minutes before.
Liam: Daily Reminder…You are going to make the Avenue of Dreams your bitch! You. Got. This.
Oh, what this man does to me.
I would be crazy to think that deep down there isn’t a tiny part of me that might be interested in him in that way.
It may be tiny, but it’s there.
Crap!
Chapter 7
Liam
“Now this is pimpin’ and you know it!”
Cami’s walking away from me as I sprawl across the velvet bed in the back of the showroom like a pin-up girl, but I can hear her sarcastically muttering under her breath.
“Yes, yes, it is.”
“Oh, c’mon. You cannot deny that I make this shit look good,” I bellow after her.
She just shakes her head and continues walking away. She doesn’t scold me for causing a scene in the posh furniture store. Nope, she rolls with it and barely notices I’m here.
I’m stupid and I know it, but for some reason I love to make this woman smile. I may not be able to see her face, but I know there is a smile on it even though all I can see is that fine ass of hers as she puts distance between us.
“Say it, little lady. Admit that I make this look good or I’ll embarrass you.” I’m now yelling at her—still in my best Marilyn pose—and it doesn’t even faze her.
Without missing a beat or turning her attention in my direction, she sounds exasperated and bored as she yells back at me just as loud and stupid as me. “Liam, you make that shit look good. Now get up and help me, help you.”
Damn this foxy little lady is cool.
When I got her text on Tuesday, I was stoked. She remembered our happy hour conversation and stayed true to her word that she would take me shopping so I could finally fill my bachelor pad of a loft with some real furniture. She didn’t mention my daily texts, reminding her how awesome she is and that she is going to design the shit out of Gabe’s house. That’s okay, though. I knew by the way she looked at me when she arrived today that she’s gotten each and every one of them, and she appreciated it.
She doesn’t have to say a word.
It wasn’t until we walked into the store that it dawned on me that as much as I love spending time with her, we have never really been anywhere on our own together. There is usually a group of people with us, but it’s not awkward.
As always, we give each other crap, and in some way, we just seem to get each other. It’s nice, and she makes furniture shopping fun.
She seems to make everything fun.
Never awkward.
“This is it!” She sits down on a large, square coffee table, leaning back on her hands and crossing her legs in a way that has the strong, sturdy table suddenly dripping in sex appeal.
Sold!
She’s excited and jumps up from her sexy, little spot on my new table—because there is no way I’m not buying this table—and her arms fly all around her as she seemingly outlines my loft in the air in front of her. Apparently, this table seems to have been the missing puzzle piece in her design scheme, and everything has now come together in her mind.
“Liam this table will go perfectly with the sofa and chairs we just picked out. We’ll put a rug under it, and with your exposed brick and concrete floors, it will be absolutely perfect!”
Perfect. She’s got that right.
“What d
o you think? Do you like it?”
“Oh, I do. I like it a lot, especially when you were sitting all sexy on top of it. You gonna come over and recreate that picture for me?”
“You are so stupid.” She smiles back, and I can see a hint of red creep up from her chest to her neck.
She punches me in the arm, and I see her flex her hand open and closed as she pretends to look at a lamp to hide her embarrassment. The blush continues to creep up her neck and stops at her ears. Her hair is in an adorable, yet sophisticated, ponytail. It gives me an excellent view of her slender and sexy neck.
Damn, being friends with a hot, smart ass of a woman is tougher than I could have anticipated.
Stopped at a red light a few hours after we finished our shopping excursion, I look out my passenger side window and can’t help but chuckle.
In the Prius next to me, is a hot, little redhead who has tears streaming down her face from laughing so hard. She doesn’t care who sees her, and she is howling with pure abandon.
Freaking, Cami.
This girl is always bringing a smile to my face. Kind of like she did this morning when she finally acknowledged today’s daily reminder.
Liam: Daily reminder…Little lady, if you rock this house like you did my new table today, you will have people lining up to work with you. BTW…I want THAT table. I do not want them to order me one. I. Want. That. Exact. Table!
Cami: Shut up.
The dude in the F-150 behind me honks and startles me out of my highly-entertaining gawking.
It doesn’t startle Cami in the least as she drives off, still laughing her tight, little ass off.
Oh, yes, I know that ass is tight. If my memory from our night of dancing had faded at all, watching her in that sexy skirt while we shopped today was a great reminder. She can rock a tight skirt and heels like nobody’s business. Sexy, yet still professional.
I take off and merge over into the right lane and follow the enchanting, little redhead in the tiny car ahead of me.
I pull onto Mick and Alex’s street and pull up right behind Cami. I hop out of the Rover and make my way to Cami’s driver side door. She hasn’t made a move to get out of the car. She’s still in a fit of laughter.
Watching her laugh her ass off without a care in the world is the highlight of my day. Well…after that scene on the table, I’d say it’s one of the highlights of my day.
I finally knock on her door, and she startles, bringing her hand to her chest. As soon as she sees it’s me, she rests her head on her steering wheel and laughs some more, but I can see she’s slowly coming down off her own personal, little joy ride.
She looks back in my direction and holds up one finger as a signal to give her a second. She picks up her purse and sits and stares a little longer at her car stereo and then finally turns the car off.
Before she gets a chance, I open her door for her. “Enjoying yourself?”
“Oh, man. Stern. I know it’s wrong, but I just don’t want to be right. Sometimes the things he gets his staff to do just kills me.”
Of course, she loves Stern. This is Cami, and she may just be the coolest chick I know.
I don’t realize I’m staring at her and haven’t replied to her statement. It seems she takes this as a sign that I’m judging her because she begins to defend herself.
“I know. I know. It goes against all womankind to love Howard Stern blah, blah, blah. I happen to find him funny, and he gives a great interview. I know he is offensive from time to time, but people need to lighten up and get over themselves. I would have thought you of all people would get him, Liam. What a bummer.” She huffs.
Oh, I get him, and I get you, little lady.
“I love Stern, Cami. You aren’t the only cool person here tonight, ya know. Now, come here and give me a hug and let’s get inside.”
The journey down to hug her is a long one, but one that I am more than willing to take. She’s a good hugger. No, I take that back…she’s a great hugger. She doesn’t just give you the obligatory pat on the back and then a quick release. She gives it all she’s got, along with a gentle rub to the back and a strong squeeze. I could never get tired of her hugs.
I release her, and we make small talk as we walk into the house.
This cute as hell woman is slowly becoming one of my best friends. Who knew a best friend could be so hot?
I know I’ve never felt this kind of attraction to Jonathan before.
Cami
“Uncle Liam, do your tattoos mean something to you?”
Ireland is standing next to Liam’s chair, slowly outlining the various details on his arm. She seems fascinated, and to tell you the truth, so am I. I’ve always thought the art on his body had meaning, but I’ve never asked him about it. I hang back a little since they haven’t spotted me behind them and listen to him explain the tattoos that cover his arm and leg.
Pulling his t-shirt sleeve up and over his shoulder so she can see the whole thing, he proudly answers her. “They do mean something to me, Ireland. All of these different symbols stand for my family, where they come from, their warrior culture and of course strength and honor.” He points to a spot on the back of his huge bicep. “This right here is the Fanua family rope.”
Ireland outlines the rope with her finger and then points to another spot on his arm. “How about this?”
“Ah, they call that a tortoise shell, and it represents armor.” She points to another place on his arm. “That’s a palm fan, and it means woven strength.”
She points to the arrows that I have often wondered about. I find myself just as captivated by his answers as she is. I’ve seen all of these symbols many times but never really thought about what each tiny detail might mean.
“Those are spearheads and represent our warrior culture.”
“Warriors? But you aren’t a warrior, are you?”
He points to his heart and says, “In here. I am a warrior in my heart. We may not live the same way our ancestors did, but their warrior strength and passion is always in my heart, and I take it with me everywhere I go.”
“Oh, that’s really cool, Uncle Liam.”
Yes, Ireland, yes, it is.
“How come these don’t really look like fans or turtles or real spears? I mean they do but they don’t.”
“Well, that is a good question. They are symbols and were around long before writing and the way we make pictures today. Do you see these right here?” She nods her head. “These are birds.” Twisting his arm, he says, “And these are fish. Whenever you see birds or fish, it represents life.” he says as he continues lifting and twisting his arm to find each of the symbols that decorate it.
“These are mountains and they represent home, rope represents family, these are waves to symbolize the ocean, and this basket weave means unity.”
“Wow,” she whispers.
It is awe-inspiring to hear how much his tattoos mean to him. His family means everything to him, and he seems to be such an honorable man. I am sure most people that see his tattoos think they are something he did to look cool or intimidating but that’s not it at all. They mean something to him and his family, and that makes them even more beautiful than I already thought they were.
Watching him take his time to explain it all to her is adorable. I love seeing this soft, kind side to him. It’s kind of sexy.
He pulls up his pant leg to show her the symbols and the way they appear on his leg.
“Do you like them?”
“Oh, I do. They are really cool.”
“Thanks, Ireland. How about you, Cami? Do you like them?”
I gasp and feel myself go red, knowing I’ve been busted eavesdropping. Ugh, this man is infuriating!
I join them in the family room and plop down on the couch. “I do like them, Liam. I’ve always wondered what they meant. Sorry for eavesdropping, but I didn’t want to interrupt because I had all the same questions that Ireland had, and I wanted to hear your answers.”
“You could
have asked, you know?” he says quietly and with deep sincerity.
His eyes hold mine and take my breath at the same time. This man has been leaving me breathless at every turn today. My heart nearly stopped beating more times than I could count today when we were furniture shopping. Not to mention at happy hour last week. I’m finding it harder and harder to simply hang out with him without the attraction I feel for him growing.
Ireland speaks, and his eyes release their hold on mine, and I can breathe again. “Aren’t they cool, Auntie Cam?”
“Very cool, sweetie.”
“Damn straight they are,” he replies.
Ireland puts her hand out to Liam, palm side up. “You said a swear word, Uncle Liam. That’s a dollar!”
He pulls out his wallet and fishes a dollar bill out and hands it to her.
“Thank you for showing me your tattoos and thanks for adding to my iPhone bank!”
She heads toward the jar on the kitchen counter and adds the dollar to her collection.
“She’s a smart one, that girl.”
“That she is,” I reply back to Liam. “She’s gonna have that phone in no time with you around.”
“Right? I try so hard not to curse around her and the other kids, but I slip up all the time. I don’t know how you do it?”
“Well, I lived with her from the time she was born, so I’m used to it. You’ll get there, but to play it safe, always keep some ones on you. That’s what I do.”
“I don’t know if I can bring myself to say the things you say, Cami. No offense but can you picture me saying good gravy or mother bear when I really want to swear?”
“My favorites are shut the front door and cheese and rice. If you say them with enough gusto it sort of gives you the feeling of swearing. You just have to put your heart into it, Fanua!”
“You sound cute as hell when say that shit, but I think I’ll just bring a stack of ones with me whenever the kids are around. Besides, Ireland will like me better than the rest of you if I supply her with the dollars she needs for her phone.” He throws me a wink, and Ireland throws her hand over his shoulder waiting for him to place another Washington in her palm.
