Page 61 of Waiting for Gilbert

“But John, you know I’ve been asking him to let me live there. Begging for months to let me stay with him. First he told me there wasn’t room. Then told me the big house wasn’t livable. Then he rents to her? A tiny girl woman?” He glances at me. “No offense.”

“Um.” I speak slowly. “Offense taken.”

John runs a hand down his face. “Cam, you gotta stop picking fights in public.”

Cameron crosses his arms like a grumpy adolescent. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“It does. CJ has a job. It pays her this green paper stuff. She can use these papers to purchase things of her own. Like renting a?—”

“I’m his brother.”

John looks at me apologetically and cuts back to Cameron. “CJ’s paying rent. Get over it.”

“It’s a low-blow if you ask me.” He huffs out a breath and shakes his hands in front of him as if flinging drops of water. “Whatever. What’s Hadley Strings playing tonight? Anything new? I heard about the L.A. gig. That’s cool, I guess.”

“Thanks, I guess.” John tucks his hands in his pockets. He directs a smile at me, as if I’m in on the news.

“It’s about time you broke out of this lousy town. I don’t think Gil has the guts to do it though. He’ll be eaten alive.” Cameron blows a raspberry with a thumbs down gesture. “He’s too nice.”

“What L.A. gig?” I’ve decided Cameron is perhaps my least favorite person, even if he has information that interests me.

Cameron swings toward me, his green eyes so similar to Gilbert’s it’s disorienting. “The duo wiggled into a Hollywood audition. It’s all over town.” His voice goes flat.

I glance at John for confirmation. The scowl on John’s face doesn’t match the news.

“And we’re all very excited and don’t need your energy-sucking negativity about it just because you’re jealous.” John offers me his hand. “You want something to drink?” He jerks his head toward the kitchen, almost pleading for me to get up and follow him.

“Absolutely. I’m parched.” I take John’s hand, and he pulls me from the couch. When I stand he doesn’t drop it right away but tows me through the living room. I catch Diana’s gaze in the entryway as she’s helping remove Lisa’s coat. She cocks her head and asks in sister-code:Why is John holding your hand? Did you give up on your online dating profile? I thought for sure you wanted to hold Gilbert’s hand.

I answer with a shrug:Beats me, sis! It’s awkward for sure, but I don’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings. I’ll check back in a few minutes.And then John pulls me around the corner into the hallway.

John takes us halfway down the hall to the bedrooms before he stops, and I bonk my face into his back. Still holding my hand by the way.

“Hey.” He’s out of breath. More so than someone who’s only skedaddled across the house. “Sorry. I shouldn’t’ve run my mouth. Cameron is—doesn’t usually—he’s just—Cameron is Cameron. Don’t let him get to you. He doesn’t mean any harm.”

“Okay. Thank you?” I glance over my shoulder where the guests crowd the living room and back at my hand still in his. “It’s?—”

“Would you want to have dinner with me?” John smiles.

“Oh.” That. I should have seen that coming since our previous evening was canceled. Here I was hoping he’d lost interest. Especially since I never found it. The interest, I mean. “I can’t. I don’t think—It’s like this. I have a date tomorrow. Nothing serious.”

“Too serious to grab a pizza?”

“I like pizza.” Why can’t I like John? I don’t know John enough not to like John. He’s really nice. Why is there chemistry with some people and absolutely nothing with others? Maybe John would share a pizza with a group of friends. “I can’t commit to a time right now?—”

“Secret club meeting?” Gilbert’s voice beside my ear sends a zap of electricity through my heart.

“Arrgh!” Mid-gasp, I jump-turn and strike his shoulder with a pitiful karate chop. “Where did you come from?”

“Office.” He pokes my waist and my karate hands shield my side. “Can I be in the secret club?” While biting the tip of his tongue, he pokes the unprotected ribs on my other side. “Please.” He laughs when I strike him again.

Poke. Strike. Giggle. Poke. Strike.

“Hya!” I attempt an offensive maneuver before he pokes again. He nabs my wrists and spins me around until my back is pressed into his chest. With his chin resting on the top of my head, he secures my arms crossed over my chest. The fact remains that grown-up boys are very strong.Mmm, and warm. His arms cocoon me, and I relax against his broad chest, clearly beaten. What’s a girl to do?

“I’ve captured you,” he whispers.

His voice sends a delightful shiver along my spine.

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