Page 8 of Flirt
He could always see the question in their eyes. Had they said too much? Should they talk about their family? Work? Sometimes that questioning look turned more panicked, as one or both parties tried to decide how to get out of the date without hurt feelings. Other times, the shared glances turned more flirtatious, and eventually more direct, which usually led to plans to meet up again.
Wonderful to watch, but it had been a long time since he’d experienced that tangle of emotions himself. Maybe that was another reason he’d said yes to Asher’s invite. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had interested him this much. He just couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not.
CHAPTER THREE
Stepping through the doorsof the club, Asher paused to take a deep breath, grimacing as the heat assaulted him. The oppressive humidity had blanketed the city for more than a week now, and with thunderstorms in the forecast, he didn’t think it would ease anytime soon.
“Do you live around here?”
Cameron tugged at his collar. “No, I live in Mission Grove.”
He’d heard of it, but he’d never had a reason to visit the town. “And Nico?”
“We’ve both lived there all our lives,” Cameron confirmed, his lips twitching. “He pretends to hate it.”
“Then why not move?”
His lips finally stretched into a smile. “I said hepretendsto hate it.”
Unsure of how to respond to that, Asher let the subject drop. “So, do you work here in the city?”
It had been a while since he’d had to engage in small talk and pretend to be interested in something other than mutual orgasms. Funny enough, he found with Cameron he didn’t have to pretend. He genuinely wanted to know more about the guy, even all the little boring things, like how he made his living and what he did in his spare time.
“I do.” His hand came up to rub the back of his neck, and he glanced at Asher as if trying to determine how much he should share. “Stone Digital Solutions,” he added after a long pause. “It’s located in one of the office buildings over on Alpha Road.”
“Alpha Road.” Asher flipped through the map in his head. “That’s on the north side of the city, right?”
“Northwest to be precise. I didn’t plan it that way, but it worked out well. It’s only about a fifteen-minute drive from my place when traffic isn’t bad.”
Asher bobbed his head, computing the information to memory, though he couldn’t really say why. “Family business?”
“Nope. All mine.” His eyes shined with pride, and he held his head a little higher, his back a little straighter. “It was one of the most challenging things I’ve ever attempted, but also the most rewarding. I enjoy the work, and we’ve built a solid client list that pays the bills. I can’t really ask for more than that.”
Asher admired that kind of passion and dedication, but as they turned the corner at the end of the block, he couldn’t help but tease. “Tell me, Mr. Stone, exactly what kind of solutions do you provide?”
Pulling at his collar again, Cameron chuckled. Asher noticed he did that a lot when he was nervous. This time, however, he thought it might be from the heat.
“We provide forensic analysis services mostly. Accounting, security, recovery, tracing, that sort of thing.”
Asher couldn’t hold back his laughter if he tried. “Luke asked if you were an accountant when you walked into the club,” he tried to explain when Cameron frowned at him. “Sorry, but you do have the look.”
Cameron shrugged, seemingly unbothered by the description. “I guess, but I’m not an accountant.” He winked. Actually freaking winked. “I’m a forensic computer analyst.”
“No idea what that is.” It sounded sexy—in a hot nerd kind of way. “You what? Dig through people’s personal files?”
“Not exactly, but you’re not far off the mark. Mostly, I keep businesses safe from hackers. If one of my clients experience a security breach, it’s my job to find out how it happened, then trace it back to the source.” He bobbed his head a few times, his gaze locked on the pavement. “But, yes, I am sometimes hired by a company to sort through corrupted data, retrieve deleted files, or find hidden information.”
“That’s really fucking impressive.” He’d seen that kind of stuff on television, but he’d never met anyone in real life who did things like that.
Cameron shrugged again, and his cheeks flushed. “I guess. I mean, I’m pretty good at it, and I won’t downplaythe importance of what I do, but it’s more of a practiced skill than anything. Nothing like what you do.”
“I make up shit for a living.” He mirrored Cameron’s shrug. “I’m just lucky that some of it is entertaining.” He meant that from the bottom of his heart, too. Some of his success had come from hard work and a desire to be the best. A bigger part of it had been timing and luck.
“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit,” Cameron murmured, holding open the door to the coffeehouse and waving Asher ahead of him. “I couldn’t do it. A lot of people can’t.”
They fell into a comfortable silence while they waited for their turn to order, and Asher couldn’t stop himself from eyeing the woman in front of them. Curvy, with a neon blue mohawk and a tattoo sleeve filled with macabre images of death, she certainly stood out, but it wasn’t her appearance that drew his attention. The top of her spiked hair barely reached his sternum, and though she hadn’t spoken a word, she held a commanding presence he couldn’t ignore.
She stared straight ahead, her shoulders back, and every inch of her emanated a calm confidence he’d often tried to imitate but had never quite mastered. The mask he projected to the world was one of arrogance and indifference. He knew, because he’d spent a lot of years constructing and perfecting it. What would it be like to actually feel as confident as he pretended to be?
