“She’s me,” Cami says, surprising me. “I’m the hometown bimbo.”
Lucas looks from me to Cami in surprise. “No, really.”
“Really,” I reply with a smile. “So you’ll have to come over to the job site next door and fill me in on your fictional flightscapades.”
“Hey Cami, I don’t really think you’re a bimbo—”
“It’s okay,” Cami says, waving him off. “I’m sure the others he’s dated have been bimbos.”
“I’ve always liked you,” Lucas says.
“I’ll see you tonight,” I say to her, and grin when she nods and elbows Kat, who makes gagging noises.
“Is Kat single?” Lucas asks as he follows me out of the bar.
“Pretty sure she is,” I reply. “But not positive.”
Lucas continues to chuckle as we walk into the construction zone. “Cami?”
“What’s wrong with Cami?”
“She’s a kid.”
“She’s almost thirty,” I reply, and motion for him to follow. “Hardly a kid.”
“Well, she’s hot, I’ll give her that.”
“She’s a lot of things,” I reply. “And we should change the subject now. What are you really doing home?”
“I’m checking on you,” he says, his face sobering now. “I want to know how you really are.”
I sigh and pick up a hammer. “I’m better than I was.”
“Have you wrapped your head around being home for good yet?”
That’s the thing. I don’t know. It was never my plan to be home for good. I was going to be in the Navy until I retired, and then probably still work for the Navy.
Civilian life is as foreign to me as living in Italy was when I first got there.
“I’m fine,” I repeat.
“You scared the piss out of me. Literally,” Lucas says, and rubs his hand over his mouth. “What happened up there?”
“I don’t know,” I reply, and shake my head slowly. “I don’t remember much of it, thankfully.”
“Brain injury?”
“No, the doctors call it a traumatic injury.” I smirk. “I don’t recommend ejecting out of your plane, man.”
“So noted.” He sighs. “So this is what you’re going to do now? Construction? Have you been medically cleared for this?”
“I’m cleared,” I reply. “And as for now, yes, I’m going to help my dad out with the construction. Long term? Who knows?”
“I’m only here until tomorrow morning. Are you sure you can’t take a few hours to hang?”
“I’m sure. You should have called, man. I’m not ditching Cami for your ugly ass.”
“Fine.”
I toss him a measuring tape. “But while you’re here, you can make yourself useful.”
“You’re an ass.”
I laugh. “That’s not the first time I’ve been called that today.”
I HAVEN’T BEEN nervous to pick up a date since I was sixteen fucking years old. But here I am, palms sweaty, sitting in my car outside of Cami’s house.
Cami would laugh at me and tell me I’m being silly.
Which I am.
I lift the sunflowers out of the passenger seat and walk up to her door. But before I ring the bell, I quickly replace the burned-out lightbulb and shove the old one in my jacket pocket.
With a deep breath, I ring the bell.
And wait.
No answer.
I glance over at the window and see lights on. She’s definitely home. So I ring the bell again, clear my throat, and wait.
Is she okay?
I pull my phone out of my pocket and text her.
Are you ready? I’m at the door.
“I’m sorry!” Cami yells, just as I hit send. She’s upstairs, yelling out of an open window. “The door is unlocked. I’ll be down in a second!”
“What are you doing?” I yell back.
“It’s girl stuff! You don’t want to know! Just be thankful that you’re a boy.”
I haven’t been a boy in a very, very long time. I’ll set to reminding her of that tonight.
I walk inside and back to the kitchen, foraging under the sink and in the cabinets until I find a vase, then arrange the flowers and carry them to the living room and set them on the sofa table.
When I turn around, my tongue glues itself to the roof of my mouth, making it impossible to speak. But Cami’s eyes are warm with female recognition, and she knows.
She knows that she’s a fucking knockout in that dress. She knows that her hair looks touchable the way it’s pinned up in that messy knot. And she definitely knows that her legs look long and lean and would be perfect wrapped around my waist.
Oh, she knows. And I fucking love it.
Chapter 5
~Cami~
He’s downstairs. In my house. And of course, he’s on time because he’s always on time.
And I’m not ready.
I slip my feet into my new Jimmy Choo heels and take a last look in the mirror. Short skirt, carefully sculpted messy hair, sparkly heels.
I’m ready.
I take a deep breath and try to remember what Riley said last night when we watched our show. Or, rather, when we tried to watch our show, but I was too keyed up.
He’s just a man. Just a regular ol’ man. Nothing special there at all.
From the bottom of the stairs, I stand and watch Landon arrange a bouquet of sunflowers in my vase, fussing over them just like I would, then he turns around and sees me, and all the blood drains from his face. I’m not going to lie, it’s a great ego boost to watch as his eyes rake up and down my body. He has to swallow hard, and when he tries to speak, he has to swallow again.