Page 27 of Trust Me Always

The traitorous women who most definitely didnotwant ice cream giggle and gawk, eyes bouncing from me to the person I refuse to acknowledge who, shocker, was sitting on the bench right next to the ice cream table.

“Cameron!” my mom mutters through her teeth, a big fat smile on her face. It’s a reminder not to be rude. Too bad she doesn’t know he deserves it. Unlike Vivian, she’s not the most perceptive person in the world, but to be fair I don’t think Vivian has picked up on it yet either, and I haven’t given them any sort of interaction to study.

They will most definitely analyze the shit out of this now.

Lips pinched in a tight line, I spin around, not expecting him to be so close. I stumble slightly, and his hands shoot out to catch me, latching on to my waist.

Our eyes lock and he smiles. For a moment, I forget to be angry, the chill of his hands on the sliver of exposed skin just below the hem of my shirt short-circuiting my brain.

“Wait, I know you!” Vivian approaches, and I can hear her smile. “You’re a quarterback as well, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Both moms seem to melt, and I flick my eyes to the sky.

“You play well. Quick on your feet,” Vivian says, complimenting him.

“Thank you.” His eyes fall to mine, and I glare at him, my back to my family. “I didn’t mean to interrupt?—”

“So why did you?”

He pushes a little closer, and I hold my breath as his arm moves around me, only to lift once more and reveal he’s picked his phone up from the tabletop. He gives it a little shake before stuffing it in his pocket. “I was sitting here.”

Yeah, no shit.

My mom fights a laugh, and I whip around to find her hand on her mouth, though she quickly spins, facingliterally nothingbehind her.

“Are we even getting ice cream?” I ask.

Vivian nods. “Mm-hmm.” She moves forward, scooping some into a bowl at a snail’s pace. “So what’s your name again, young man?”

“I’m—”

“Alister, this is Mason’s loving and devoted Martha Stewart of a mother, Vivian,” I say, jumping in.

Alister’s face falls and he lowers his gaze, having enough sense to look slightly guilty.

“And I guess I’m chopped liver, also known as Clair, Cameron’s mom.” My mother’s voice is teasing, and she sticks a hand out to shake his. “It’s lovely to meet you, Alister.”

“You too, ma’am.”

I step aside, so I’m not sandwiched between the two and have enough space to turn if needed—or drag one of them away should it come to that.

“So why have you been staring at my daughter all afternoon?”

Dear god. I sigh, pinning her with a look.

“She’s impossible to look away from,” Alister says, and my head whips right back around.

I glare at him, and he fucking winks.

Winks!

I swear, if my mother still had her uterus, it would be fluttering. Country women, man. They love a good wink.

I’d like to tear his eyelashes off one by one.

“So how do you two know each other?” Vivian asks, making a second, smaller ice cream bowl that can only be for baby Deaton, what with the Froot Loops she adds to the top.

---