Page 11 of Sand in My Boots

“Just now. When you said it. Does it impede your ability to work?”

It’s an ironic aversion, but it started when I was young, and I’ve never outgrown it. Just learned to deal with it.

Most days.

“I tolerate it. Otherwise, I’d be out of a job. And I love all the other parts of my job.”

“How long do you need to get ready? How far away do you live?”

“Three minutes driving, twelve minutes walking.” I point down the beach. “Just down the beach a ways.”

“On the beach?” Her voice pitches on the last word.

I shrug my shoulders. “It’s a beach town. I could live somewhere else, but it’s convenient for work at the resort and when I have to go to the marina for some of the bigger excursions.”

“I like the enigma you’ve become, Cameron.”

“There’s a lot more of me to expose.” I look at my watch. “Say ninety minutes? I’ll meet you at Harbor Spice.”

Joy still fills her expression. “And we’re going as . . . so I can dress accordingly.” Juli raises her eyebrows at me. Again, it’s a bit of a challenge, or that’s how I choose to interpret it.

Without putting too much thought into it—I don’t need to be confused as all hell again—I declare, “Two people learning about the other’s current life. No more expectations than finding out who Juliana Langley is at . . .”

She purses her lips. “At what?”

“Your age.” I can’t remember how old she is.

“Thirty-two.”

She hardly looks a day over twenty-five, but now is not the time to say that. Nor probably think, in case my mouth should attempt to blurt it.

“Not so ‘little Langley’ anymore, huh?”

“That wasn’t ever me. Elisa’s held that position since before I met you.”

I’d forgotten about the youngest Langley sibling, though there’s a picture of the three of them in Preston’s office.

Rather than get into anything else for the time being, I stand up from behind the table we’re still sitting at and pat her shoulders. “Ninety minutes at Harbor Spice. I’ll grab us a good table. Wear more clothes than you’re wearing now.”

I stalk away, down the beach, before she can form a response, though I think she gasps. As I walk, I tamp my dick down.

Dinner with Juliana Langley is not for him.

Chapter 5

Juli

It takes eighty minutes to overcome the nerves of having dinner with Cameron. Mostly because I’m uncertain what the hell dinner means. I’m making a mountain out of a molehill, but today was bewildering, awkward, and a host of other emotions I wasn’t prepared for.

He’s still the Cameron I remember, just more “man” than those few summers back when we were friends. I forgot he called me “Little Langley.” It was before the “Jude” moniker came into play.

A knock on the door interrupts the path of wayward thoughts. It’s probably not smart to go down it, to bring up the past. Those memories are best left bottled up.

At the door, I’m greeted by a girl in her early twenties bouncing nervously from one foot to the other.

“The bride and groom are happy you’re here. Please accept this gift as a token of their appreciation.” With a forced smile, she hands over a bottle of wine. Once it’s securely in my hands, she jets off down the hallway.

Odd.