by Emma Hart
Cameron, to his credit, didn’t look flustered at all. “Well, I’ve already almost run her over, had her spill coffee all over my desk, and walk around the office barefoot, so we can just add it onto that list of mistakes.”
“You told me to take off my shoes,” I muttered.
“So you wouldn’t break your neck, because I know you’d trip.”
“I would not trip.”
“You tripped over the stapler.”
“I didn’t put it on the floor, so I didn’t know it was there.” I folded my arms and huffed.
He fought a smile.
Mom watched the exchange with a frown. “Do you date all your employees, Cameron? Have you done it before?”
“Good God, no. That would have been incest. We used to share baths every now and then when we were kids, but we stopped that when she punched me in the eye.”
“I’m sorry?”
“My cousin was my assistant before Mallory.”
“Ah. So you waited for the first eligible young lady to come along and take her out.”
“Not entirely. I was holding out for one who doesn’t trip over her own toes, but they appear to be in short order around here.”
Aunt Grace was watching the exchange with her whiskey glass in front of her mouth and a smile behind that. Cameron was matching her, barb for barb, and the best part was that she was insulting with him and he was rolling with it.
“I see. So you settled for Mallory,” Mom said.
“I don’t believe anyone can settle for Mallory. Or around her, actually. There’s a reason I call her Hurricane Mallory.”
Oh, God.
That earned him a cackle from Aunt Grace.
“Hurricane Mallory?” Even Mom looked like she was hiding a smile at that.
“Yep.” He shrugged. “She blows through like a hurricane wherever she goes. She even gave me a list of demands for tonight which blew my plans apart.”
“I didn’t demand anything. I asked if it could be outside, with food, and if I could wear yoga pants.”
“And I see you were serious about the yoga pants.”
I looked down at the plain black leggings that hugged my legs. “I can change if you want me to.”
“Nah, yoga pants work for where we’re going.”
“If it’s a yoga studio, I’m leaving.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Not a yoga studio.” He looked at my mom and smiled. “We really do have to get going now. It was nice chatting with you.”
With that he smiled, leaving my mom’s mouth in a tiny ‘o,’ and guided me to turn around and leave.
Aunt Grace cackled as we headed for the door. “He owned your ass, Helen. I like him. We should keep him.”
“I am so sorry,” I whispered.
“Don’t be. That was kind of fun.” He winked at me, opened the front door, and we left.
***
“Mini golf. Mini golf for a first date?” I asked, looking at the wooden shack on the edge of the amusement park that was a few miles out of town.
“It ticks all your boxes. It’s outside.” He motioned to, well, the outside. “There’s food nearby.” He pointed at the amusement park where a cacophony of delicious scents were riding this way from. “And you can wear yoga pants.” He pointed at my legs, then grinned. “I’m a genius.”
“I wouldn’t say you were a genius,” I said slowly. “But it’s pretty damn inspired.”
“I’ll take it. Do you want to eat first?”
My stomach rumbled. Loudly. “Eat. Definitely. There’s some grease and bad carbs in there calling my name.”
He laughed and wrapped one arm around my shoulders. “Let’s go eat.”
“Aren’t we supposed to be keeping this secret?”
“Mallory, if you wanted to keep this secret, pizza and a movie at my place would have been the smart date.”
Damn it. He was good at arguing. “Fine. By the way, I’m a little impressed with how you handled my mom back there.”
He shrugged one shoulder and paid for us to enter the park. I’d never understood why the golf was separate from the actual theme park itself, but hey.
“We’re already aware this is potentially a bad decision. She’s just trying to protect you and, probably, piss me off a little. If I’d backed down or gotten angry, it’d reinforce her idea that she needs to protect you.” He peered down at me. “You are prone to making mistakes.”
“She basically called you a mistake.”
“No, she called your decision to go on a date with me a mistake. Which, for all we know, could be.”
“Are you changing your mind already?”
“No. But if I’ve learned anything about you over the last two weeks, it’s always to expect the unexpected.” His smile reached his eyes. “I quite like your unpredictability. And, as I said, your clumsiness is kind of adorable.”
“I hate it when you call me adorable.” I glared at him.
“Tell that to your mouth.”
I was about to tell him something, but I was so fixed on him I missed the rock. Stubbing my toe on it, I almost tripped, but Cameron was lightning-fast as he caught me.
Standing in front of me with a giant grin on his face, he brushed hair from my eyes and said, “See? Although I did expect you to trip at some point this evening.”
I shoved him in the chest and shook my head, but I was smiling.
He laughed and pulled me right into his side, this time keeping a tighter grip on me as he grabbed my waist instead of my shoulders. I fit easily into his side, and it was so comfortable to wrap my arm around his waist, too.
It almost made me pause, how comfortable it was, but I didn’t want to dwell on it.
We decided on hot dogs, fries, and nachos for food. He bought the dogs and fries; I bought the nachos and two Cokes. When we had it, we found an empty bench and sat down, listening to the rattling of the rollercoaster just behind the food stalls.
I watched as it reached the top then plummeted to the ground, a chorus of screams filling the air.
“You like roller coasters?” Cameron asked, picking up a handful of fries.
“I like watching people scream and plummet to their death,” I replied.
He blinked at me. “That’s a no, then.”
I grinned. “Do you really think that putting me, the catastrophe queen, on a high-speed rollercoaster that could break down at any second is a good idea?”
A kid who was walking past us stopped dead next to our table and said, “Mommy? Is that true? The coasters can break down?”
The woman holding his hand glared at me and ushered him away, assuring him I was wrong and just a big scaredy-cat.
Well, she wasn’t wrong about the scaredy-cat thing. The teacups were more my level. Those things could spin.
Cameron cough-laughed and covered his mouth as he reached for his drink. “No. I don’t think putting you on anything mechanical is a good idea.”
“That, and I don’t like adrenaline. Well, I like adrenaline just fine, I just don’t like doing the things that get it up. Like, why would you go on a rollercoaster just to be scared?” I shrugged and picked up a nacho loaded with guac and cheese. “If I want to be scared, I’ll get up in the middle of the night and find my naked grandpa in the fridge.”
“Did that happen?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
He laughed, picking up his hot dog. “You have a thing with finding men in fridges.”
“I hope I never do it again. It’s not a habit I’d like to make,” I said with a firm look.
Cameron chuckled again, and that was the end of our conversation as we finished our food. Then, with full bellies, we threw away the trash and headed back in the direction of the mini golf.
I was bad at mini golf. And not little-kid learning how to play mini golf, I mean, bad. Given my natural talent for disaster, giving me a ball to hit with a stick was just asking for trouble.
Still, I was going to do well this time. Or I was going to
try, and that was basically the same thing in my book.
As long as I didn’t hurt anyone else, I’d be fine. And it’d be a better success than the last time I attempted to play…
I shook it off and took the ball and golf club Cameron handed me. Nerves fluttered in my stomach because he was probably about to see just how much of a klutz I was.
When he realized that, he’d nix this dating thing faster than you could snap your fingers.
I followed him over to the first lane and watched as he lined up his ball. It was relatively simple, as the first ones always were, and I hated it, but I wasn’t surprised at all when he got a hole-in-one then stepped aside with a shit-eating grin for me to take my turn.
Like he knew.
He just knew I’d be terrible at this.
With a deep breath, I put down my ball and tapped it. Lightly. So lightly, in fact, that it barely even moved at all.
I didn’t know it was possible, but Cameron’s grin got even wider.
Yep. This was a terrible idea.
I tapped it again, and it went further, but still not close enough to the hole. All in all, it took me four more shots to get the ball in, and I was damn glad we were the only ones here.
“Well, this should be interesting,” Cameron remarked, moving to the second hole.
“Shut up,” I muttered, trailing along behind him.
And so it continued. He’d only need three shots maximum to pot his ball, but I needed at least three to get even close to the hole. Once, I even hit it so hard it went right out of the lane and I had to start again.
Honestly, at one point, I think he was contemplating getting up and going to get another hot dog while I potted the ball. In my defense, there was a damn hump and the ball did not want to go over it.
It was nothing to do with me. It was all the ball’s fault.
“Wow. You really aren’t good at mini golf, are you?” He picked up his ball and smirked.
“Shut up. I’m not a sporty person.”
“You’re not a rides person, you’re not a sporty person. What kind of person are you?”
“A lie in bed and watch Netflix until the judgey screen comes up person.”
“I think we’re all that kind of person.” He laughed and positioned his ball to get his next shot. It’d probably only take him one freaking shot anyway,
I huffed and took a seat on one of the benches they provided which was, as I’d assumed, totally pointless. Two shots and his ball was firmly in the hole.
I stood and went to take my go. “Oh, crap. I don’t have my ball.”
“You didn’t pick it up,” Cameron said, grabbing his. “Although you should just give up now. There’s no way you can beat me.” He waved the scorecard in the air with a smug smile.
I glared at him as I turned toward the last hole. “Yeah, well—”
Those were my last words before my toes stubbed the lip that kept the balls inside the putting area. The rubber of my sneakers caught on the horrible astroturf-like stuff they used, and as I fell down, my ankle twisted.
I landed firmly on my ass. Pain shot through my ankle. “Shit!”
“Hell.” Cameron dumped his things and dropped to my side. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head. “My shoe got stuck on the rubber. My ankle hurts.”
He ran his hands down my leg in a move that was way sexier than it should have been given the amount of pain I was in. His touch was oh-so-light as he curled his fingers under the bottom of my yoga pants and gently touched my ankle.
Still, I winced.
“Come on. I’ll take you to the emergency room to get checked out.” He undid the laces on my shoe.
“Whoa, what are you doing?”
“If it’s sprained or broken, it’s going to swell. You need to take off your sock and your shoe.” He gently pulled off my shoe, and then my sock.
“You’re being awfully nice about my bare foot.”
He chuckled. “What can I say? I have a hero complex that outweighs my dislike of bare feet. Hold these. I’ll carry you to the car.” He handed me the shoe where he’d stuffed my sock—white, this time—and picked me up like a Disney princess.
I giggled, then winced again. “What about the balls and clubs?”
“I’ll explain at the booth. Let’s go, Hurricane Mallory.”
CHAPTER TWENTY – CAMERON
“You know, if you wanted to get out of the date, you really didn’t have to sprain your ankle.” I grinned at her in the front seat of my car.
She glared at me. “I was about to apologize for ruining our date, but now you can stuff it.”
“I don’t know. It was pretty exciting.”
“Says the one who can walk.”
Three hours at the ER had made for an extremely grumpy Mallory. As it was, it was now late, dark, and definitely getting cold enough for a coat.
I bent down and helped her out of the car. She’d already told me that under no circumstances was I to carry her again since apparently, that’d been a little dramatic.
Her telling me she thought she’d die from the pain was dramatic.
She pushed the door shut and, with my help, hopped up the path to her front door. The house was completely dark, and when I took her key and unlocked the door, it was just as still as it was dark.
Nobody was here.
“Where is everyone?” I asked Mallory.
She slapped her hand to her forehead.
“Whoa there, Hurricane. I don’t wanna be taking you back there with a concussion.”
“Hilarious,” she drawled, turning to look at me. “One of mom’s favorite bands is playing at the bar tonight. I guess they took Grace and Grandpa, too.”
“What bar?”
“Hook, Line, and Sinker.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s not the kind of bar your social circle visits.”
“Sounds like my kind of place.” I grinned and gently squeezed her. “What time will they be back?”
“Uh… They’ll be out until at least midnight.”
“Really? Even your grandpa?”
She nodded. “Can I sit down? My ankle hurts.”
I helped her inside and onto the sofa in the living room. “You can’t stay here alone. You can’t walk.”
She waved her hand. “I’ll be fine. I’ll sleep here.”
“You can’t sleep on the damn sofa.” I shook my head. “You need someone to take care of you. I know what you’re like. You’ll get up and try to take yourself to the bathroom or something and fall again, and then you’ll be screwed.”
She sighed and dropped right back on the sofa, resting her head there. For a moment, she flung her arm over her eyes, then dropped it and looked at me with her big blue eyes. “What do you propose we do then? You stay here? Because my mom is going to explode if she gets home in the small hours of the morning and finds you here.”
I shrugged and sat down in the armchair her grandpa usually sat in. The smell of cigar smoke was strong, but also, weirdly nice. “You could stay at my place.”
“Let me guess: if we’d done pizza and a movie, this never would have happened in the first place.”
I grinned instead of answering. She was in a bad enough mood thanks to the pain, so teasing her tonight was just going to get me on her bad side.
“If you come to my place, I promise to order pizza and let you choose the movie.”
She sighed again, and I knew she was giving in. She didn’t have much of a choice—she knew as well as I did that she couldn’t stay here alone.
“Fine, but the pizza has to have pepperoni, and the movie has to be a serial killer documentary.”
My lips twitched up at her demands. “If that means you won’t get in any trouble, then fine.”
“Wait. Where am I going to sleep? With you?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to sleep with me?”
Personally, I didn’t think it would be a good idea. She was in no fit state to do in
a bed what I wanted to do with her.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea. I mean, I want to, but it’s not—oh, hell, this is going to shit.”
I laughed at her and stood up. “I have a guest room. It even has a TV, and if you’re nice to me, I’ll let you eat pizza and watch serial killer documentaries in bed.”
She groaned. “Now I’m a little turned on.”
“Pizza and serial killers are the way to your heart?”
“Actually, nachos and serial killers are, but I’m not sure you can get nachos delivered.”
I smiled and tapped the side of my nose. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Now, where’s your room so I can get you clean clothes?”
Her eyes widened. “You can’t go through my closet!”
“What? Are you going to stay in those until I bring you back tomorrow?”
“Yes?”
“What are you going to sleep in? Those clothes?”
“Yes?” Even she was wavering now. “Bring me back early. It won’t matter. I’ll sleep in my underwear.”
I held up my hand to stop her right there. “Absolutely not.”
She frowned, a cute little wrinkle forming between her eyes. “Why not? I sleep in my underwear a lot. Well, I don’t wear a bra, but—”
“Stop.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. Now all I could imagine was her sprawled across a bed, wearing nothing but a pair of panties. Of course, there was no bandage on her ankle, and the panties had flamingos on, but that was all I had to go on at this point.
It was more than fucking enough.
“Mallory, if you sleep in my house in nothing but a pair of panties, you’re going to end up naked.”
Her mouth formed a little ‘o’ of shock, and her neck flushed red as what I was saying sunk in.
“In fact, the only reason you’re able to stay there at all and not end up naked is because of that.” I pointed to her wrapped ankle. “So count yourself lucky. Want me to go get you some clothes now?”
“Actually, no, I don’t, but I don’t suppose I have a choice.” Another sigh.
Good Lord, she was dramatic tonight.
“Besides, it’s not like you’ve never seen my underwear.”
I grinned and got up. “Exactly. Got any more animal panties up there?”
