Page 25 of Things We Fake
“Just a little encouragement,” Lily said sweetly. “And a reminder to wax everything.”
Nikki added. “And don’t worry, I threw in a discreet pamphlet about safe sex and body positioning. Some angles are just better for circulation.”
“Okay, wow.” I blinked. “You guys have too much time on your hands.”
Nikki stood. “Some of us spend all day dissecting cadavers. This is how I unwind.”
“Anyway,” Lily said, slipping on her coat, “we just wanted to check in before your big date. I have to drive Nikki to the morgue.”
I followed them to the door. “Thank you, guys. I seriously don’t deserve friends like you.”
“Sure you do,” Nikki said, smiling as she adjusted her scarf. “For your sins. Have fun.”
“Safe fun,” Lily added.
The moment they left, I set the bag on my bed and debated whether or not I was emotionally prepared for its contents. I was just about to peek when my phone rang again. It was Cam.
My first thought was that he was calling to cancel. The rejection was coming, and I was wearing a nightie with the tags still on.
I tried to keep my tone neutral as I answered. “Hello?”
“Susanne, it’s Cam.” Even his voice was sexy, low and deeply male but without being overpowering. Just right.
“Hi. What’s up?”
“Just calling to check if we’re still on for Saturday. I made reservations at Nick’s Steakhouse.”
I let out a relieved breath and relaxed my tense muscles. He wasn’t calling to cancel! He was calling to inform me he would take me to one of the best restaurants in New York.
“Then we’re definitely still on,” I said.
I could hear the smile in his voice. “Were you waiting for my restaurant pick to decide if you’re going out with me?”
“Let’s just say I was curious. How is your sister-in-law doing?”
“She’s okay. She’s exhausted from trying to use the crutches all the time, but she’s getting really good at it. Sebastian is going to Houston on a work-related trip for a month or so.”
“Any luck in finding a new apartment?”
“Not yet, but I can’t say I’ve been looking seriously. Work has been very busy.”
“Do you have many people dissatisfied with the software?” I joked.
“My rate of satisfaction is pretty high.”
Oh, my… This was top notch flirting. I remembered his friends words about Cam’s horse-like equipment, and the room started to feel extremely hot.
“How’s your week going?” Cam asked. “Any more food fights?”
“Not yet, but my students rarely hit twice in the same way. Today they were fighting over who gets to play the serial killer in their group skit project. It’s disturbing how many of them want the role.”
He laughed—a rich, throaty sound that caressed all of my senses. “A lot of kids are fascinated with the morbid at that age.”
“Oh yeah. Seventh and eighth grade: the golden age of hormones, misplaced confidence, and zero impulse control.”
“Any trouble with the software?”
I wedged the phone between my cheek and shoulder and started digging through the pink bag. “None, but I’ve hardly used it after the update.”
