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For the record, that wasn’t my doing either.
As quietly as possible, I tiptoe around the room to collect my glasses from the nightstand beside him. Having my lenses on my nose is a curse disguised as a blessing. It brings my sight into crisp focus and with it a better view of Cameron in his obscenely sexy shorts and the erection tenting them. If only I didn’t have intimate knowledge of his dick.
I guiltily raise my glance to his face. Even bathed in the early morning shadows he is the most attractive man I’ve ever met. I shake my head and rush into the closet. I don’t have the right to leer over him after the line I crossed. Inside the dark space, I blindly reach out for a one-piece outfit that I won’t have to worry about pairing with something else. As soon as my hand closes over what I suspect is a collared dress, I jet out of my closet to escape to the guest bathroom.
Glamma may have snuck into my house while I was away to steal my guest furniture, but I doubt she emptied the bathrooms. Before I get to the door, Jackpot comes galloping through the entryway. Horror fills me because I know what’s coming. I rush to intercept the manic feline hyped up on the zoomies.
Everything happens in slow motion. I stretch out to grab her as she leaps onto the bed, mere millimeters away from my fingertips. Too much adrenaline and too little coordination lands me on the floor. Again.
Cameron mutters a pain-filled “What the hell!” which drowns out my oomph from landing on the floor.
I’m sympathetic to his pain. Having been on the receiving end of Jackpot’s full weight landing on my belly or chest early in the morning, I feel for him. But not enough to expose my current location. Self-preservation drives me to do a laughable impression of an army crawl.
Did I mention my coordination is shit when I first wake up? Low to the ground, I’m suffering to control my breathing and minimize my grunting while using upper-body muscles that are probably at the point of atrophying. Hope rises in my chest as I approach the door. I just might get out of here unscathed.
“Where…” The confusion in Cameron’s voice causes me to abandon all self-respect.
I shoot to my feet and sprint to the farthest bathroom, glad to see it’s still stocked with toiletries. My heart pumps an erratic beat and I press my spine against the door, waiting for the adrenaline to work its way through my system. While my heart does its best to compete with the Daytona 500, I recall being in the bathroom last night and begging Cameron to tuck me in.
Lord, save me from myself. There’s no helping things now because there’s no way on God’s green earth I’ll allow Cameron to catch me and force an explanation for last night out of me. I’m noping out of all future encounters.
It’s bad enough that I took advantage of him while I slept, but remembering the way I begged him to stay with me is a whole new level of mortification I can’t deal with.
I spoke too soon.
As I step out of the shower, I realize my haste has created another dilemma. The dress that I selected, sight unseen, is a lovely paisley pattern, but the outfit is missing a couple essential items. Specifically what I need to wear underneath.
I bang my head as silently as possible against the tile wall while a debate rages inside my head. Risk facing Cameron commando with the residual effects of having him intimately between my legs still very much in effect. Or leave.
I leave. I have no other choice.
Are you—
Can it Keating!
Since working in my studio is a bust, a full day of separation from Cameron will give me the clarity I need. I glance toward my bedroom with remorse, knowing I’m about to abandon Jackpot because I won’t risk a run-in with Cameron for the furry birman.
My first stop is Renaissance Boutique, the only store in Escondido carrying my bra size. Wearing double Gs is no picnic. I pull into the tiny strip mall’s parking lot when my phone rings. Jazzy’s number flashes across the screen. On the brink of hitting ignore, I spy Pedro with Escondido’s resident busybody and self-appointed judge of all humanity, Ms. Nina, walking in toward my destination.
By his bent head and engrossed expression, Nina is talking his ear off. Her topic could be about any of the myriad societies or groups she is a part of which includes the Escondido Bay Lapidary Society, Swamp Friends, Trumpeters Guild, and Women for Mini Fainting Goats. Ugh, I have to avoid her at all costs because Ms. Nina won’t stop at putting out a full-page opinion piece in the paper on my loose chest. She’ll go door-to-door warning everyone in town to hide their men because I’m following in Glamma’s footsteps and no one will be safe.
As the seconds tick by, I furtively glance around the parking lot to make sure no one has seen me in my current bra and panty-less state.
Please, move away already!
The phone’s persistent ringing decides me on the matter of whether to hide or brave Ms. Nina’s judgment. I recline my seat and answer Jazzy as Pedro glances in my direction.
He didn’t see me, did he?
Are you talking to me again? Because if so, I regret to inform you that I don’t have access to the cute mayor’s pretty brown eyes. If we didn’t have somebody at home willing and waiting to put down some D, I might encourage you to look his way.
Why are you even here? Don’t answer that.
“Hey, Jazzy, what’s up?” In a bid to confirm if Pedro saw me, I contort myself like a pretzel to peer through the bottom of my window while remaining unseen.
“Kiwi, I’m giving you fair warning to prepare your most epic Yor Briar costume because we are going to an event this weekend. I can’t believe we didn’t know about it sooner.”
“I’m game,” I respond, grabbing onto the excuse.
