“You ready? Got a jacket?”
Snapping out of it, I nodded and raced back to my bedroom, nearly eating the floor when my heel snagged in a sweater. I grabbed my coat and slid it on as I joined him. Amusement glimmered in his eyes as he picked my purse up off the back of the couch. Feeling about nine kinds of awkward, I thanked him.
“Ready,” I said, breathless.
“Not quite yet.” Cam reached out and started pushing the large buttons on my coat through the holes. “It’s freezing outside.”
I just stood there, absolutely still and enthralled by the simple act. He’d started at the bottom and as he worked his way up, my pulse thudded. I held my breath as he neared my chest. The sides of his hands brushed across the front of my coat and I stiffened. Layers of clothing vanished as an unexpected jolt of heat shot to the tips of my breasts.
“Perfect,” he murmured. Through his lashes, his eyes were a heated, startling cobalt. “Now we’re ready.”
All I could do was stare at him for a moment and then I had to force my legs, which felt wobbly, forward. The moment we stepped out into the hall, Cam’s apartment door flung open.
Ollie appeared, a cellphone in one hand and Raphael wiggling in the other. “Smile!” he shouted as he snapped a picture on his phone. “It’s like my two kids are going to prom.”
Both Cam and I were dumbstruck.
Ollie beamed. “Putting this in my scrapbook. Have fun!” He popped back into their apartment, closing the door behind him.
“Um…”
Cam laughed loudly. “Oh God, that was different.”
“He doesn’t normally do that?”
“No.” He laughed again, putting his hand on my lower back. “Let’s get out of here before he tries to go along with us.”
I grinned. “With Raphael?”
“Raphael would be welcomed. Ollie, however, would not be.” He grinned as we hit the steps. “The last thing I’d want is for you to be distracted on this date.”
Distracted? I already was.
Chapter 16
By the time the bread arrived with our drinks and was placed on the glossy square table between us, I’d gotten better control of my breathing. The nervousness returned in the truck ride to the restaurant, though Cam didn’t seem to notice and was completely at ease.
I spent way too much time pouring over the menu as I resisted the urge to start chewing on my pretty nails.
Cam nudged me under the table with his foot and I looked up. “What?”
He nodded to my left, and I saw the waiter standing there with a smile. “Oh, um, can I get the…” I picked the first thing my eyes centered on. “Chicken marsala?”
The waiter scribbled that down and then Cam ordered a steak, medium rare with a side salad, and baked potato. When the waiter left, Cam went for the bread. “Want a piece?”
“Sure.” I hoped I didn’t choke on it. I watched him slice a piece in half and then butter it up. “Thank you.”
He arched a brow, but said nothing as I nibbled the bread, a tiny piece at a time. I racked my brain for something, anything to say. It didn’t even have to be interesting. I just needed to speak. For some reason, the conversation he’d had with Ollie resurfaced and I latched onto it. “Do you play any sports?”
Cam blinked as if caught off guard.
I flushed. “Sorry. That’s really random.”
“It’s okay.” He chewed the bread slowly. “I used to play.”
Thankful that he was playing along, I relaxed a little. “What sport?”
He cut off another slice of bread. “I played soccer.”
“Really?” Why were all soccer players hot? Was it some kind of universal law of soccer? “What position?”
Even though I knew Cam probably suspected I didn’t know squat about soccer, he went along with it. “I was a striker, which is a middle player position.”
“Oh!” I nodded like I had a clue what any of that meant.
Cam flashed that dimple. “That means I did a lot of scoring.”
“So you were good?”
“I was decent. Had to be fast, so a lot of running.”
That’s pretty much all I knew about soccer—a lot of running. “Did you play in high school?”
“High school, rec league, and my first year of college.”
I dared another bite of bread. So far so good. “Why’d you stop?”
Cam opened his mouth, but then closed it. Staring over my shoulder, several moments passed before he shrugged. “Just not something I wanted to do anymore.”
I was the queen of giving evasive answers, so I knew one when I heard one. And I so wanted to dig deeper and find out more, but I had given the same lame answer when he’d asked me about dancing. I wasn’t really in the position to push.
His ultra bright gaze settled on me and in the dim lighting, I felt my face turn a deeper shade of pink. Jesus, I needed to stop blushing.
He chuckled, and I wanted to throw my bread in his face. “Avery…”
“Cam?”
He leaned over onto the table and the small candle in the center sent dancing shadows across his face. “You don’t have to be so nervous.”
“I’m not.”
His brows rose.
I sighed. “Okay. I am. Sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing? You don’t need to. This is your first date.”
“Thanks for reminding me,” I muttered.
His lips twitched as if he wished to smile. “It’s not a bad thing. You’re going to be nervous.”
“You’re not.”
“That’s because I’m awesome.”
I rolled my eyes.
He laughed, and the sound was deep and rich. “You just don’t have to be. I want to be here with you, Avery. You don’t have to worry about impressing me or wowing me. You’ve already done that.”
“That’s…” I shook my head, ignoring the lump in my throat. I stared at him. “You’re just so… I don’t know. You just know what to say to…”
“To?”
I tucked my hair back and then dropped my hand in my lap. It was shaking. “You just say the right stuff.”
“It’s because I’m—”
“Awesome,” I supplied. “I know that.”
Cam leaned back. “I wasn’t going to say that, but I’m glad you’re starting to realize my awesomeness.”
“Then what were you going to say?”
“That I said that because it’s true and I want to.”
“Why me?” I blurted out, and then closed my eyes briefly. “Okay. Don’t answer that.”
The food arrived just then—thank God—and the conversation was deterred… for about two minutes. “I’m going to answer that question,” Cam said, peering at me through his lashes.
I wanted to face-plant my stuffed chicken. “You don’t have to.”
“No, I think I do.”
Clenching my silverware, I drew in a deep breath. “I know it’s a stupid question to ask, but you’re gorgeous, Cam. You’re nice and you’re funny. You’re smart. I’ve been turning you down for two months. You could go out with anyone, but you’re here with me.”
“Yes, I am.”
“With the girl who’s never been out on a date before,” I added, looking him dead on. “It just doesn’t seem real.”
“Okay.” He cut off a piece of steak. “I’m here with you because I want to be—because I like you. Ah—let me finish. I’ve already told you. You’re different—in a good way so get that look off your face.”
My eyes narrowed.
He grinned. “And I’ll admit, some of the times I asked you out, I knew you weren’t going to say yes. And maybe while I wasn’t always being serious when I did, I was always serious about wanting to take you out. You get that?”
Um, not really, but I nodded.
“And I like hanging out with you.” He popped a piece of steak into his mouth. “And hey, I think I’m a pretty damn good catch for your first date.”
“Oh my God.” I laughed. “I can’t believe you just said you were a good catch.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I am. Now eat your chicken before I do.”
Smiling, I started to pick it apart, going for the stuffed part first. With the exception of asking a stupid question, my first date was going well. Cam started steering the questions and I wasn’t a mute just sitting here. Though, every so often, our gazes would lock and I’d forget what I was doing or completely lose track of what he was saying. But I was having a good time—I was enjoying myself and Cam. And the best part? I wasn’t thinking beyond right now. I was just… here and it was a nice place to be.
Toward the end of dinner, Cam asked, “So, what are you doing for Thanksgiving? Going back home to Texas?”
I snorted. “No.”
His brows knitted. “You’re not going home?”
Finishing off my chicken, I shook my head. “I’m staying here. Are you going home?”
“I’m going home, not sure exactly when.” He picked up his glass. “You’re seriously not going home at all? It’s more than a week—nine days. You have time.”
“My parents… are traveling, so I’m staying here.” That wasn’t a huge lie. Around this time of year, between Thanksgiving and Christmas, my parents took cruises or went on ski trips. “Do your parents do the big Thanksgiving dinner?”
“Yeah,” he murmured, his gaze falling to his empty plate.
Conversation lulled a little at that point and as the check arrived, Cam didn’t seem like he wanted to linger. The night air was beyond chilly and our breaths formed puffy, misty white clouds. A fierce wind kicked up, picking up my hair and throwing it around my face. I shivered and hunkered down in my jacket.
“Cold?”
“It’s not Texas,” I admitted.
Cam chuckled and stepped closer, dropping his arm over my shoulders. His body warmth immediately slipped over mine and I worked hard at not tensing and falling flat on my ass. “Better?” he asked.
All I could do was nod.
Once out of the brutal wind, I buckled myself in. Cam climbed in, started the engine and then smacked his hands together, rubbing them. He glanced over at me. “Did you have a good dinner?”
“Yes. And thank you for the food. I mean, dinner. Thank you,” I stumbled over my words, closing my eyes. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Amusement colored his tone. “Thank you for finally agreeing to let me take you out.”
He turned the radio on after that, not loud enough that we couldn’t talk, but I was too busy focusing on important stuff. Somewhere between Hagerstown and University Heights, I had made an extremely important decision.
If Cam kissed me, I would not freak.
Nope. Nope. Nope.
I would act like a fucking nineteen-year-old girl with an iota of experience and not freak. Then again, he might not kiss me. He might’ve realized at some point during our date that I wasn’t kiss-worthy and high tail his ass back to his apartment to hang out with Ollie and Raphael. And if so, that would be okay. I would be okay with that.