“Drunk painting is good for the soul,” Cami says, smiling up at me. “You’re pretty.”
“Pretty?” I drag my fingertips down her cheek and she snuggles close to me. “I don’t think guys are supposed to be pretty.”
“But you are,” she says with a sigh. “With your dark lashes and thick hair and all your . . . prettiness.”
“She thinks you’re hot,” Kat says, and shrugs when Cami scowls at her. “What? You just told him he’s pretty. I’m translating.”
“Thank you,” I say, chuckling. “I’ll take you home, Kat.”
“I have my car.”
“And you’re way too drunk to drive. You don’t live far.”
“I’ll call an Uber,” she says, waving me off and pulling the app up on her phone. “No need for you to leave and come all the way back.”
“This was fun,” Cami says. “But we forgot to eat.”
“No wonder we got so drunk,” Kat says. “I knew we were forgetting something. According to this, my driver will be here in three minutes. I’ll go out and wait.”
“Thank you,” Cami says, and hugs Kat around the neck. “You’re pretty too.”
Kat snorts again. “You are drunk. You’re welcome. See you when I see you.”
“I’ll go wait with you,” I say as we walk to the front door. “It’s dark.”
Cami crashes on the couch as Kat and I walk outside and down to the sidewalk.
“I think you’re good for her,” Kat says out of the blue. “She’s happy. And it’s been a long time since I’ve seen her be really happy.”
“I’m glad.” This is an awkward conversation.
“Just don’t hurt her.” She points her finger into my chest. “Seriously, don’t. Because then she’ll be sad, and she’s had her share of sad, with her parents dying and her divorce and stuff.”
“I don’t want her to be sad either,” I reply. “And thank you for being such a good friend to her.”
“Well, duh. She’s awesome. Oh, there’s my car.” A black car pulls up to the curb and the driver rolls down the window, verifying that Kat is his passenger. She climbs in the backseat and waves at me, blows a kiss, and they drive away.
I take a deep breath, enjoying the crisp night air, then walk back inside and smile softly at my girl passed out cold on the couch. She’s curled in a ball, her head resting against the back cushion, and Scoot is curled up in her lap, purring away.
I take the blanket off the back of a chair and drape it over her, leaving Scoot’s head poking out, and bend down to kiss her forehead.
“Sleep well.”
And now it’s time to get started on the pantry.
SOMEONE’S KISSING ME. My face, my neck, my ear. I crack an eye open and find Cami smiling at me, lying on top of me. After I finished the pantry, at around two in the morning, I simply picked Cami up and joined her on the couch, and we slept here all night.
Scoot is lying on my feet.
“Good morning,” Cami says softly. “I don’t remember falling asleep here.”
“You were in a wine coma,” I inform her dryly. “What time is it?”
“I don’t know. It’s Saturday. Do you have to work?”
“Nope, I’m off today. I’d like to spend it with you, if that’s okay.”
She smiles happily. “It’s okay.”
I drag my knuckles down her cheek and kiss her forehead. She feels so good lying on top of me. The only way this would be better would be if I was inside her.
But we’ll get there.
“I’ll make you breakfast,” I offer softly.
“I can make it.” She’s playing with my hair and watching her own fingers as they comb through the strands, then her eyes widen. “Oh no! I have to put my kitchen back together!”
I kiss her, then sit up, taking her with me, and when we’re both on our feet, I guide her back to the kitchen, where she stops cold, eyes wide, surveying the clean room.
“Was I robbed?”
“No.” I laugh and kiss her head, then walk over and open the new pantry door.
“Oh my God.” She walks over and studies the door, then peeks inside. “Oh, it’s so pretty.”
“You did a great job on the paint,” I say, loving how her cheeks have gone pink and her eyes shine as she walks into the pantry and checks it out. “I wasn’t completely sure where you wanted everything, so you can obviously change it, but it’s put away for now at least.”
“You did this for me.” It’s not a question. She turns and looks at me with confusion and elation, all mixed together.
“Of course I did.”
“Why?” She shakes her head, then looks around again. “I mean, I’m grateful, and it looks amazing. It’s exactly what I wanted. But this must have taken you all night.”
“I was done by two,” I reply proudly. “And I did it because I knew you’d like it.”
And because it seems I’d do just about anything for this woman, but I’m not ready to tell her that. Not yet.
“Thank you,” she says, and walks into my arms, her head pressed to my chest, and hugs me tightly. “It’s so great.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Now I have the whole day free.” She kisses my chest, then pulls away, shuts the door of the pantry, gives it a grin, and moves to the fridge. “How do you want your eggs?”
“So you are making breakfast?”
“Yes, sir. I haven’t cooked for you. Eggs?”
“Scrambled.”
She nods and begins pulling ingredients out of the fridge. “Scrambled it is. I’m also going to make ham, potatoes, and toast.”
“That’s quite a feast.”
“It’s all part of a balanced breakfast,” she says with a wink. God, she’s sassy. Has she always been this sassy? This much fun? “Plus, you’ve earned it.”
“Have I earned a shower?”
“Definitely.” She keeps gathering supplies. “Go help yourself. This should be just about ready by the time you’re done.”
“I can stay and help.”
“I’m good. Go ahead.” She waves me off, already concentrating on the task at hand. “Oh, I have to feed you, little man.” She bends over to scratch Scoot behind his ears and he doesn’t even bat at her this time.
They’re making progress.
Before I leave to take my shower, I pull her into my arms and kiss her soundly. She melts against me, her hands planted on my arms. She kisses me back, as if I’m the best thing since sliced bread. Her tongue tangles with mine, and one of her hands glides up over my shoulder and into my hair at the back of my head.
I growl. She tastes amazing, and she feels even better. Her grip on my hair tightens. She clenches her fist, almost pulling my hair, and I can’t stand it. I boost her up onto the countertop and grind my now hard cock against her crotch, squeezing her ass and pulling her tightly against me. She groans and rotates her hips, pushing. I slip my hand under the shirt she’s still wearing from last night, skim up over her ribs, and cover her small breast with my palm, and squeeze gently. She covers my hand with hers and encourages me to squeeze harder.
Suddenly the smoke alarm goes off, startling us both, and we stare at each other for a moment as we breathe hard, both our mouths wet and swollen, her eyes are glassy.
I glance over at the stove. The pan she put on the burner to heat up is smoking.
“Oops,” she says, and giggles, twists out of my hold, and moves the pan. “Go get in the shower. I’m hungry.”
“I’m hungry too,” I reply, and her gaze meets mine again. She gives me a naughty grin, licks her lips, and winks. I can’t help but let out a laugh as I shake my head and leave the room.
I’ll make it a cold shower.
Chapter 7
~Cami~
“I love the Esplanade,” I say happily as Landon takes my hand and we begin walking down the paved path that loops around the waterfront of the Willamette River, giving us amazing views of the city.
“It’s a g
ood day for a walk,” he says, smiling down at me. “Not raining.”
“Nope.” I look up at the blue sky, then fish in my purse for my sunglasses. “But it’s a little chilly.”
“We’ll warm up the more we walk,” he says.
“You know, we’ll be walking just about a block away from Voodoo Donuts,” I remind him with a grin.
“We just had a big breakfast.”
“Oh, come on, there’s always room for donuts,” I reply with a scoff. “When was the last time you had a Voodoo?”
“Oh God, it’s been a few years,” he says, and guides me to the side so we avoid a cyclist.
“Well, I say we stop in.” I pull him down the sidewalk toward the famous donut shop. “And look! No line.”
“That doesn’t happen often, especially on a Saturday morning.”
“See? Good luck.” I wink and lead him inside. “Smells good.”
“How can I possibly be hungry for this right now?” He stares longingly at a maple with bacon. He looks at me like that too. Usually he has his hands on me when he has that look on his face, and holy shit, does it make me crazy.
It was all I could do to not rip his pants off in my kitchen this morning.
“I’ll take one,” he says to the guy behind the counter, pointing at the donut, then he turns to me. “What would you like?”
“I’ll take one without the bacon,” I say. “You don’t have to put it in a bag. It won’t last that long.”
When we’re outside, I pull my phone out and take a photo of Landon biting into his ridiculously big donut, laughing at how his nose squishes up as he bites.
“If you post that anywhere, it’ll ruin my political career,” he says, his face perfectly sober.
“I’m sure there are other photos in existence that would do that more than you eating a donut,” I reply, and bite into my own treat. “Dear God, these are good.”
I glance up to find him staring at me.
“What?”
He licks his lips, then leans in and whispers in my ear, “I want to make you make noises like that.”
“Oh.” I stop walking and stare up at him, his lips, his hot blue eyes.
Dear sweet Jesus, the man makes me hot. I’ve always been attracted to him, but this is different. It’s more.
He just grins and keeps walking, and I have to hurry to catch up to him.
“Come here. Let’s take a picture.” We turn our backs to the river and hold up our donuts, but my arms aren’t long enough to get a good shot. “You take it. Your arms are longer.”
“I’m not good at the selfie.”
“I’ll show you.” I instruct him on holding the phone, and we pose for a few photos. On the last one, he leans down and kisses my cheek as he takes the photo.
“Aw, that’s cute,” I say, looking through the pictures, eating my donut, and walking beside him. “You did just fine with the selfie.”
“I learn something new from you all the time,” he says with a laugh, and takes the last bite of his donut. “Ah, the Rose Garden.” He points at the stadium and smiles. “I’ve seen many a concert in that place.”
“They changed the name, you know. It’s the Moda Center now.”
“Hmm. It’ll always be the Rose Garden to me.” Since I’ve finished my donut, he takes my hand back in his and tucks them both in the pocket of his jacket. It’s very chilly today. I can see our breath as we walk, but the sun is nice on my face, and our brisk pace helps. “What was your first concert?”
“Britney Spears.” I grin and break out in a really bad rendition of “Hit Me Baby One More Time,” which Landon joins me in, making me laugh so hard my stomach hurts.
“Wasn’t that for Addie’s birthday?”
“Yep, we were fourteen,” I reply with a nod. “We had a blast. Britney puts on a good show. She’s quite the dancer. What about you?”
“Metallica,” he says. “It was fucking awesome.”
“So you’re a metalhead? I didn’t know that about you.”
“Not really, but I love Metallica,” he replies. “I saw Springsteen, the Cure, Garth Brooks, and Madonna in that stadium.”
“I remember when you went to see Madonna! I was so mad. I wanted to go.”
“You did?”
“Of course I did. But you took Natasha What’s-her-name.” I scowl. “Bimbo.”
“Natasha was a bimbo,” he agrees with a nod. “And my seventeen-year-old self was elated.”
“Ew.”
“Don’t worry, babe. You’re the only bimbo I’m interested in now.”
“I’m so relieved,” I reply, and push him playfully. Our walk goes by fast, and before long we’re back in the car and headed to my house. When we pull up, I’m surprised to see Brian’s car in my driveway and the man himself walking down my steps.
“Hey!” he says as we approach. He glances at Landon, down at our linked hands, then back at me, and smiles widely. “I was just going to leave.”
“I’m glad we caught you,” I reply, and squeeze Landon’s hand. “What’s up?”
“I was wondering if I can borrow your KitchenAid mixer?”
I frown. “Why?”
“Stephanie wants to bake cookies this afternoon, but I don’t have a mixer.”
I unlock the door and step inside, then turn and stare at my former husband. “Who’s Stephanie?”
“A girl.” He rocks back on his heels. “That I met.” Shoves his hands in his pockets. “You know, on my own. Without your help.”
“Oh my gosh! That’s so great!” I hug him quickly, then walk back to the kitchen, the guys in tow. “I want to know all about her. Do I know her?”
“I doubt it.”
“How did you meet her?”
“Does she give you the third degree like this?” Brian asks Landon, who just laughs and shakes his head. “I met her in the grocery store.”
I stare at the tall blond man I know so well, and then a slow smile spreads over my face. “What aisle?”
“Why does that matter?”
“Humor me. What aisle?”
“I met her by the ice cream.”
“Did she have wine in her basket?”
The guys look at each other in confusion, and then Brian says, “I don’t remember.”
“Think. Really hard.”
I lean on the counter, waiting, and watch Landon’s eyes travel down to my chest. I glance down, and sure enough. Cleavage, front and center.
I send him a sassy wink. You’re welcome, handsome.
“Honestly, Cam, I wasn’t looking in her basket,” Brian says, and then chuckles. “That sounds dirty.”
“Ew.” I shudder. “I don’t want to know about the dirty stuff. Of course you can borrow my mixer.” I open the pantry and fetch the appliance.
“You remodeled,” Brian says.
“I painted, Landon did everything else.” I grin and hand Brian the mixer. “Have fun.”
“That’s the plan.” He winks. “Thanks. I’ll talk to you later. Good to see you, Landon.”
Landon nods, and he and I just look at each other as Brian leaves.
“You seem very excited for someone who just found out her ex is seeing someone.”
“Hell, yes, I am,” I reply, and wash my hands in the sink. “I’ve been trying to set him up for over a year.”
“Really.” He takes his coat off and hangs it on the back of a chair. “That’s . . . unusual.”
“I know. But it’s okay.” I turn to him. “Brian is a really great guy, and I want him to be with someone equally great.”
“So you’ve been trying to set him up.”
I nod. “I felt guilty.”
Landon takes my hand and leads me to the couch, sits, and snuggles me against him. “Why guilty?”
“Because I left him,” I reply softly. “The divorce was all me. He didn’t put up much of a fight, but he probably wouldn’t have asked for it. I left him alone, and that made me feel bad.”
“You were alo
ne too,” he reminds me, and kisses my forehead.
“But that was my decision.” I drag my nails up and down his thigh. “But, I guess I didn’t have to set him up after all. The fact that he’s doing any kind of cooking or baking with her says a lot. He claims to be allergic to the oven.”
“I hope it works out for them,” he says. “Wanna watch movies and veg for the rest of the day?”
“Hell yes.”
THIS HAS BEEN, hands down, one of the best days I’ve had in a very long time. Exercise in the morning, and an afternoon on the couch, snuggled up, watching movies and eating junk food is exactly how I needed to spend my day off. I feel rejuvenated and happy.
We’re in the middle of an action movie that Landon picked. We took turns choosing the movies today, which seemed fair to me. Right now action movie stars from the eighties and nineties are all banded together to fight . . . something. I’m not sure what. But Landon is laughing and pointing, and generally having a good time, so I’m having a good time too.
I traded my jeans for cropped yoga pants long ago. Landon ran home to get some lounge clothes as well, so we’re as casual as can be, with a blanket over our laps, and Scoot is curled in a tiny ball beside Landon, snoring happily.
This just feels good. I’d forgotten how much I love to snuggle. To feel a solid, warm body next to me. I slip my hand under the blanket and drag my fingertips up and down Landon’s thigh, like I did earlier, but this time it’s on bare skin thanks to his running shorts. I like to touch him. His skin is smooth, but his muscles are just . . . yum.
I glance up at him, and realize that he’s staring down at me, his eyes hot, and the next thing I know, I’m on my back and Landon and his harder-than-should-be-legal body are covering me, his mouth is on mine, and his hand has traveled up my shirt.
“Jesus, you’re sweet,” he whispers against my lips. “Arch up.”
I comply and he unfastens my bra, giving him easier access to my breasts. He doesn’t take my shirt off, but his hands are doing amazing things to my nipples and his mouth is teasing mine, nipping, licking, then devouring.
I feel like I’m sliding straight into a high that I’ve never had before. My head starts to buzz, along with every nerve ending in my entire body. He eases between my legs and presses his pelvis to mine, grinding against my core, and moans as I push my hands in his hair and hold on tight.
Close to You Page 8
