Page 101 of Hot Damn
Invested in a way I’ve never been before.
The feelings I have for her are nothing like the ones I had at fifteen. And for the first time in a long time, I understand why people called me a victim. I’ve never felt like one but when I look at it now, I see it.
My gaze moves over Cami.
She’s curled on her side, and I have to move to see if her chest is rising and falling. Rationally I know she’s going to be fine but it doesn’t stop my brain from spinning worst-casescenarios.
And as I stand here watching her breathe, I have to admit I’m falling for this woman.
Sexual attraction aside, I like her. Even if I’m not comfortable with her job—I admire her independence and strength even though circumstances have required she relinquish both in recent days.
I want her in my life, want to be in hers. In what capacity I’m not sure. I’ve never been in a relationship.
Hell, I haven’t had sex since before Whit was born, not even a one-night stand.
It’s not like I haven’t had the opportunity. But I’ve never been interested in any of the puck bunnies who throw themselves at players. Never felt like I was missing out when I looked at other players with their partners.
Having Whit has always been enough.
Until now.
Now I want to see where this thing between Cami and me can go. I want to explore the emotions she makes me feel. Want to see if I still know how to please a woman, if I remember how to make a woman com?—
“I’m back.” Whit gives me a quizzical look when she sees me standing next to the bed watching Cami like a creeper. “Did you tidy the bathroom?”
“Ah, no.” I scrub a hand down my face. “I’ll do it now.”
“Don’t bother. I can do it.” She puts her laptop on the far side of the bed and checks on her patient, making sure Cami is tucked beneath the covers. “Can you bring up some more water? This is warm now.”
Taking the glass from her, I smile. “Sure.”
“And if you go to the shop, can you get a couple of energy drinks? I think they might help her when she wakes up.”
“There’s some in the gym fridge.”
“Oh, can you move them to the kitchen?”
“Sure.”
“Don’t worry about the water. I’ll let you know when she’s awake so it’s nice and cold.”
“Anything else?” I ask, struggling to contain my amusement.
“No.” Whit glances around the room before leaning over to tug the covers up again. “I think that’s it.”
I’m grinning as I walk out of my room.
Witnessing Whit take care of Cami doesn’t just put a smile on my face. It warms my heart to know I’ve raised a child who’s compassionate. I might not have seen it before Cami pointed it out, but I should be proud of myself.
I was still a kid myself when Whit was born, but I’ve been a good parent in spite of my age and not growing up with decent—never mind good—role models as examples.
Mama Dot came into my life when I was fourteen and while she was a great influence, a wonderful guide, she held more of a grandmotherly role, for both of us.
The majority of my parenting has been done on instinct. And a deep knowledge of what a parentshouldn’tbe.
The day they handed me a squealing, slippery baby, I vowed to love her and protect her with everything I had.
Knowing I did that, seeing the results through Cami’s eyes, has me understanding why she thinks I need to tell Whit about her mother.
