Page 111 of Bring You Back

Did she now.My smile stretches as I study her. The way she’s avoiding looking inside the shop as she waits for word, choosing instead to give passersby the stink eye. I picture her greeting customers with that look at the ice cream shop and release a silent laugh.

“I’d take her up on it,” Brent encourages, and I don’t miss the double meaning. Take her up on it for the job. For me. But what he doesn’t know is I’m not even questioning it.

“Yeah,” I say again, my eyes still on Camille as she sways with impatience, annoyance, nerves, or all three. I’m hoping it’s nerves. I’d love to make her squirm.

My dad draws my attention and suddenly heated thoughts back to him with a repeated, “Good.” He manages another half smile, and tries to part with, “We’ll talk more soon,” but Camille’s waiting presence reminds me of what I need to do before her shift ends, and I stop him.

“I need to step out a little early,” I say when he turns back to me, and his brows raise in question. “There’s just something I need to do.”

Jake had turned me down when I asked him, but this is my father and it’s his shop. He can do whatever the hell he wants, and I can say he’ll grant me this favor because he owes me in some way, but this isn’t the first time I’ve asked this.

“Sure,” he says, waving me along and taking the couple steps back to the counter. “I’m not doing anything today.”

I stall a moment, not having meant right this second. He leans into the counter, nostrils flaring—once. When he’s not smiling or laughing to show his amusement, that one nostrils flare always gives him away. “Go.”

I go, hurrying past the counter, past him until I stop, face him again as his promise to talk soon finally takes hold. “Thanks.” He gives me a nod with a quick smile attached, and I barely manage the same as I continue on my way, my pace slowing as I meet up with Camille. She looks up at me, her eyes half squinted from the sun, and I catch the glint of red in her dark hair that shows itself in certain angles under the rays.

“Youreallywanna learn to surf?” I ask her, my skepticism immediate.

“Have I ever done anything I didn’treallywant to do?” she says, and I meet her pointed look with a smirk.

“Lately.”

She releases a chuckle that turns to a laugh as she looks off toward a crowd of tourists heading to the bandstand across the boardwalk. Some band called Whiplash Prerogative is playing a mini pre-show before their set tonight.

“Greta! We can’t run through here!”

The random comment and emo music filters in, but my focus is all Camille’s.

She swings her eyes back my way. “Well, that’s what happens when I have toforcesomeone to be with me.”

You don’t have to force me to be with you.My mouth won’t let me say it. Not now. Not yet.

I also don’t have to say it. Her words are a tease. She knows. Sheknewthe moment she came back to town. She always knows, and there’s no expectation for me to say anything. Of course, that doesn’t mean I never did. Or that I don’t. Or that I won’t.

“I’ll have to look at my schedule. People are lining up,” I say, my own words a tease through my hope that I won’t fuck this up. Damn if I still want to make my father proud.

“I bet.” Her tone matches mine, light yet firm enough to show her confidence in me. I bite back the warmth threatening to show on my face.

“Let me know,” she says as she walks backward toward the direction of the ice cream shop. It’s getting harder not to pull her back, pull her into me, touch that red in her hair. “You know where I live,” she adds with a quirked brow, and I look down to hide my smile. “Was that a grin?”

I look back up at her halting steps, smile gone. “Nope.”

She smirks, then continues her backward walk. “If you make this hard, I will, too,” she warns, playful undertones in her voice.

“I count on it,” I say back, and her eyes light up. The look touches her face for just a second, but it’s there, becauseI’mhere. The guy she knows. The guy wholikesa challenge.Herchallenge. Thankfully, this would involve my job. Something I’m skilled in. Something that’s not so thick withus.

I can do this. I can teach Camille to surf.

She whips around and starts through the crowd. My eyes fall to her swaying hips as she disappears into the throng, and I try not to picture those curves even more accentuated in a wetsuit as I get ready to make my way to the house.

Camille

I took a risk today,I text Tommy, vague and hinting, on the way back to HMS from C&C. I realize I’m running a few minutes late, but that’s what happens when your boss doesn’t give you a long enough break.

And when you spend said break with Julian.Bad influence.

I’m halfway there when Tommy texts back.You were nice to someone?

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