“Trust me, it’ll be anything but boring. When my four brothers and twin sister get together, it’s always interesting.”
“There’s nothing remotely interesting about watching a bunch of yuppies have a dinner party,” I point out. “And who calls it a ‘dinner party,’ anyway?”
“Normal people.”
“Wrong answer, Ms. Landry. Yuppies. Yuppies call it a ‘dinner party.’”
“Fine,” she sighs, twisting her hair into a knot on the top of her head. “What would you call it?”
“Dinner with people. A barbecue. Supper. Dessert, if you’re on the menu,” I tease.
“You’re impossible,” she laughs, coming to the edge of the bed. “What are you doing tonight while I’m suppering with people?”
Rolling onto my back, I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. The light from the broken window causes a spray of color to dance across her features. Lifting my hand, I brush a lock of hair off her face, letting the pad of my thumb sweep against her forehead
“I’m meeting Bond at the gym in a little bit,” I say carefully. “He’s going to work out with me for a while.”
“For the fight?”
“For the fight.”
She sits on the edge of the mattress, but doesn’t face me. She looks towards the doorway but her stare seems to go much farther. Her head is someplace else. Probably somewhere trying to decide whether or not to resurrect the argument we have every time my fights come up in conversation.
“I don’t know why you do this, Dom,” she says softly. “It’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid.” I pull myself so I’m right behind her. I rest my hand on her shoulder. It covers her easily, her shoulders as narrow and delicate as the rest of her. “It’s easy money. It’s a couple of fights a year that land me a few grand. Besides, I like it.”
“How can you like getting your head beat in for any amount of money?”
“I don’t. That’s why I don’t let it happen.”
“You say it like it’s a fact,” she says, twisting to look at me. “Like there’s a chance you won’t get hit.”
“Oh, I’ll get hit. I’ll just hit him harder,” I smirk.
She begins to protest, but I cover her mouth with mine. It takes a couple of seconds for her to give in and kiss me back. Her lips are soft and sweet, letting mine take the lead and guide her like one of those yoga sequences she does in the morning. When I finally pull back, I still see the fight in her eyes, but there’s a smile on her lips.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I hint.
“Yes,” she sighs, kissing me once more before standing. “I smell like you.”
“If I’ve done my job you do.”
“I’m going to have to go home and shower before I head to the Farm.”
“There’s a shower down the hallway, you know. But if you go getting naked—”
“I’ll never leave,” she finishes, giving me a little grin. “Call me later?”
“Yeah.”
Kissing the tips of her fingers, she lays her hand towards me and blows. It’s typical Cam—adorable on one hand, suggestively sexy on the other.
She doesn’t look back as she leaves. As I hear the front door shut, a certain feeling settles over me, one that tells me this won’t be the last time I see her.
I flop back on the bed with a smile of my own.
Camilla