Page 46 of Married As Puck
“You’re annoying, Brie. I don’t know how your parents manage to put up with you,” he replies.
My smile vanishes at that. “They didn’t have to,” I reply, after thinking whether or not he deserves to know that about me or not.
That catches his attention. “What?”
“Have a good day, Cameron, and try to smile. It takes less effort than you think.” I wink at him and walk out, feeling his eyes on my backside.
Later that night, when he drags himself home from practice, sweaty and worn, I wait by the door just to poke fun at him.
“Ew! You smell like a wet dog. How did the driver manage to bring you home without passing out?”
He shakes his head, pushing past me towards the shower. “Your senses must be fatigued because I had a shower right after practice.”
I raise a brow at his white lie. “Oh yeah? Then did a rain cloud follow you home? How else do you explain the sweat on your forehead and the one on your clothes?”
“You know, you’d have a good chance at becoming a nanny than the role you currently occupy at work,” he responds.
“I’m simply doing my job as a good wife,” I reply with an amused grin.
He brushes past me to his room, talking under his breath.
I watch him sometimes and notice everything. I see the way his shoulders slump when he thinks no one’s looking, the way his eyes go dark, with unspoken emotion, the smile that only comes to his face whenever he’s talking about hockey. It’s clear that’s his only passion and everything else is just a routine. He hides it behind his grumpy facade, but I know there’s a wounded man under it all.
Last night when I came downstairs for a water refill, I found him on the couch with the TV muted, staring through the screen like he was a million miles away. I sat down beside him and curled my legs under me then leaned my head on his shoulder. I waited for him to shake me off, but he didn’t even acknowledge me.
“Don’t look so gloomy, Gray. You’re going to wrinkle before you hit thirty.”
He snorted. “Better wrinkled than unfulfilled.”
I smacked him with a cushion, and for a second his lips curved with a small smile. That gave me hope, and I’m sure as long asI keep trying, I’ll soon break down his walls––not that it’s really necessary but the poor guy deserves some happiness.
Sometimes I want to ask about what’s eating him, but then I see the way his jaw locks and his body stiffens, so I hold back. Instead, I throw in little jokes and subtle jabs. I don’t even know if it’s working but until this arrangement is over, I’ll keep at it, just as long as he doesn’t push me away.
The office hums with activity as people dart around in pairs and trios, working on different projects. I’m halfway through sorting seating cards for an event at the children’s hospital when my phone buzzes on the desk. I almost ignore it, guessing it’s probably another vendor complaint but then I see the name.
I swipe it open. It’s a short and direct message, no greeting or anything else.
Cameron:Dinner, tonight. Just us.
I’m sure Collins put him up to this, so I don’t get any ideas. I type back before I start to overthink.
Brie:Okay.
“What will I wear?” I ask, picking up my phone to call Julia for help. I end the call just as it’s about to ring. “No, I won’t bother her. I’ll take care of this on my own.”
The restaurant looks like it was pulled straight from a movie scene. I’m in awe of the interior decor once we step in. I feel underdressed even in one of my best dresses. Cameron, of course, looks like he was born for this. He’s wearing a white shirt and navy blue blazer.
He pulls out my chair like an old-fashioned gentleman, and I can’t stop my smile.
“Wow! Look who’s being a gentleman tonight.”
“Don’t push it,” he warns, but there’s a little tenderness in his eyes that I haven’t seen before.
Dinner is not as tense as I thought it would be. We talk about everything from food, to travel locations, to the ridiculous fashion choices of the couple two tables over. He makes me laugh, and I catch him watching me a few times.
Then he surprises me with his next request. “Dance with me.”
“What? Here? There’s no dance floor.”
