Page 99 of Melt for You (Slow Burn 2)
Cam’s fingers drum the tablecloth. “Thank you. But that wasn’t a question.”
How does he know I want to ask him something? Probably the same way he knows most other things: he’s observant.
I want to ask him if he’s happy. I want to ask him if he has any real friends. If that’s what he meant when he said we’d never be friends—because everyone wants something from him, including me.
How can I honestly claim to want to be his friend? A true friendship isn’t based on what you think you can get out of it. It’s based on respecting someone enough to let him be who he really is. A true friend is someone who says “I’m here for you” and proves it.
It dawns on me that Cam is probably the best friend I’ve ever had.
Cam says sharply, “Lass.”
My eyes sting. I shake my head, drawing a deep breath in an attempt to calm my emotions. “Give me a minute,” I croak, and take a long drink from my water glass. After a few moments of rapid eye blinking and air gulping, I find the strength to meet his worried gaze. If only my voice had the decency not to wobble.
“I think you’re an amazing person. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. This whole Michael project . . . it means a lot. I don’t take your help for granted. And I’m sorry for all the stupid things I’ve said to you, all the times I’ve been sarcastic or flippant. I wasn’t trying to be mean. I was just . . .”
“You were just bein’ yourself,” Cam finishes quietly when I struggle to find the right words.
When I nod, miserable to admit it, he smiles at me. “You can quit beatin’ yourself up now, lass. I know you appreciate me. And I love that sharp tongue of yours. I love that you feel comfortable enough with me to give me a good dressin’ down. I need that, y’know. Someone to stick a pin in my balloon when it gets too inflated.”
I produce a shaky laugh. “Your balloon must have a lot more pinpricks since you met me.”
He laughs, too, a soft and satisfied sound. “Aye. But a real friend is someone who stabs you in the front.”
“That’s Oscar Wilde.”
“Don’t look so surprised, lass. I’ve read Oscar Wilde. You didn’t think I was just another pretty face, did you?”
We share a smile across the checkered tablecloth. “So, we are friends.”
He shakes his head, chuckling. “Why is it so important to you this relationship has a title?”
Because the alternative to friends is either enemies or lovers.
I smile tightly but don’t answer, knowing in my heart of hearts that I’d rather die than be enemies with this man.
So if we’re not friends or enemies, that leaves only one other choice.
TWENTY-FIVE
Cam and I enjoy a long lunch, talking nonstop about everything and nothing. He gives me more advice about Michael, I pepper him with questions about Scotland, he informs me we’re moving our workouts from strictly cardio to adding strength training, I tell him I’ve lost another few pounds. We’re at the restaurant for almost two hours.
In the back of my head, I tell myself Portia gave me permission to take a long lunch, but the reality is that I’m reluctant to get back to the office. I’m having too good a time. I keep dragging my feet, asking Cam question after question until he laughs at me and asks if I’m writing an unauthorized biography.
“Yes. I’ll call it Mountain Man Unmasked. It’ll be an instant bestseller.”
“Okay. I’ll approve it. But only if you include the sonnet about my eyes.”
Our gazes catch and hold. I look away first, blushing.
Back at the office building, he asks me if I want him to come up, but I tell him no. I’ve got visions of a mob of salivating females lined up in front of the reception desk, waiting for him to emerge from the elevator so they can pounce.
We hug on the sidewalk, then he’s gone. I stand there waving at his taxi until it turns a corner and disappears. Then I trudge into the building and onto the elevator, bracing myself for whatever might await me on the thirty-third floor.
It’s a bloodbath.
First, I’m accosted by Kim, the receptionist. She leaps up from her desk the instant the elevator doors open and runs up to me, flapping her hands, the tic in her eye going so fast it looks painful.
“Oh my gosh, Joellen, I didn’t know who that was when he came in. I only knew he was big and handsome and oh!” She bites her fist. “So hot! But then Shasta told me who he was and showed me the picture of you guys on TMZ and geez, are you dating him? How long has this been going on?”
