Page 10 of Building Romance
Sabotage my competitor. Yeah, I could do that.
“Who’s going to approach her?” I ask.
“You,” my father states not leaving a second for discussion.
I hold up my hand. “There’s no way she’ll agree to it, then. We’ve already had an…encounter,” I state.
“So what? She’ll want to do this. There’s no way she gets more exposure than with this show,” my father says. He has a point. This is the biggest baked goods competition in our area. Any bakery or café worth their weight in gold would want to compete, to have an opportunity to prove themselves. Plus, the winner gets a shit ton of money and free advertising. And I know Cam won’t be able to pass that opportunity up.
“Fine. But if she doesn’t bite with my pitch, then one of you will need to step in,” I muse as I contemplate how I’ll pitch this to her. One misstep and Cam’s fuse is likely to explode.
“Great. That’s settled. Let’s move on to the issue we are having with the McDowell’s in Kensington,” my father says as he pulls up a slide from his laptop and launches into a dipping sales situation with one of our British stores.
But my head is still stuck on Cam’s Café, or Cam if I’m being honest with myself. How am I going to get her to agree? She all but threw down a gauntlet when we last spoke. However, it’s not her words that burned their imprint on my brain, it was the way her messy hair fell on her cheek and the way her arms pushed up her chest when she crossed them in defiance. She’s the type of woman who’s naturally beautiful and yet Cam Tanner doesn’t seem to care at all what I think about her beauty. She’s fixated on winning, on being the best. And honestly, that is a million times hotter than anything about her physically. It’s dangerous. I can’t be attracted to the enemy. I may have put my player ways aside when I came to work here, but that doesn’t mean I don’t find women attractive. I’ve been stuck in a hookup-buddy loop for three years. Do I want more? Maybe.
There’s just one thing I can’t want. Camryn Tanner.
CHAPTER FIVE
Cam
“He did not!” Drew exclaims as he sets his cocktail down on the bar.
It’s Thursday night, which means it’s happy hour on the rooftop deck of my apartment building. Al, the owner, always throws one each week and sometimes other days for special occasions. Everyone is here, and after a discussion of where my saltshaker might have gone, we’ve turned the conversation to McDowell’s.
“He did,” I grumble as Al sets down an extra-dirty martini with five blue-cheese-stuffed olives. He slides it toward me. I down it and start eating the olives.
“Whoa, slow down there. We can figure this out,” Bray says as he adjusts Ava on his lap.
“There is a belted kingfisher in the park!” Troy exclaims as he throws open the door and looks around wildly, a pair of binoculars in his hand.
Everyone stops talking and gives him a curious look. Troy and his wife, Jessa, are the building’s official parents. They also take care of all the plumbing, electric, construction, and administrative work for Al. I guess I knew Troy liked birds. He does have an African gray parrot named Rocky. And I do see him on occasion in the park watching birds. But I’ve never seen him going crazy about a bird.
“I’m sorry, a what?” Carly asks as she leans on the counter next to Bray.
“Mom, he said a—” Ava starts but Carly holds up a hand.
“I heard him, little nugget. But I don’t know what that is,” she explains.
Ava turns to Troy. “Mr. Troy, is that a special bird or something?”
He nods enthusiastically and takes the camera hanging around his chest off, turning it around to show everyone the screen. Like the good found family we are, we all gather in a circle and “ooh” and “ahh” about a small bird.
“That makes over one hundred birds this year,” Jessa says as she squeezes her husband’s shoulder.
“It does. A great birding year,” he says proudly.
“Troy, how did I not know you were such a bird enthusiast?” Roxy asks as Gray pulls her back against him.
He shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. A man has to have a hobby. I can’t be all wires and pipes all the time,” he says.
Drew chokes on his drink. “Yeah, definitely not all pipes all the time.”
I roll my eyes at my bestie.
“What’d I miss?” Troy asks as Al hands him his usual boring beer.
“Well, we’re figuring out how to derail the opening of the McDowell’s down the street,” Al explains.
