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“I can’t. I’m sorry,” she said, and a pained expression crossed her face as she moved beyond my reach.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“I don’t want to complicate things, you know?”

I nodded. “Listen, Cam. I’m not always good at sensing what people need, but know this. I’ll be anything you want me to be. Someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on, a distraction from all the other shit. Whatever you need, just say the word. Even if it’s ‘stay the hell away from me,’ all right?”

She smiled through glistening eyes. “Stop being so damned sweet. I swear to God, you’re ruining me for all other men.”

I tried not to react to Cam’s words, but thinking about her with another man was as fun as a swift kick to the balls.

“Not being sweet. I’m treating you the way you deserve.”

She made up the small distance between us and put her arms around me, resting her head against my chest. I folded mine around her and soothed my hand along her spine. She exhaled a deep breath, and the tension left her body.

I angled my head low and breathed her in. “I’ll be there for you until this thing is through. I promise.”

She pulled back and lifted her gaze to mine. “For a guy that gets paid to murder people for a living, you’re incredibly kind.”

I smirked. “Hmm, thanks. I think. Don’t tell anyone, though. Can’t have you ruining my badass reputation.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” She placed one hand on my chest, right over my heart. I hoped she couldn’t feel how hard it pounded. Instead of backing away like I should, I rested my hand over the top of hers.

Christ. Living with her was so much harder than I ever thought.

Those upturned eyes shifted to my mouth. “You hungry?” Cam sounded a little breathless.

I gnawed on my bottom lip and stared at hers. “Fuckin’ starving.”

Were we even talking about food?

She blinked twice and gave a sharp shake of her head as if trying to clear it. I resisted the urge to keep hold of her hand when she took a step backwards.

“We should get the chicken out of the oven before it burns,” she said.

Something was burning up, but it wasn’t the food. I could use a bucket of cold water to pour over my head.

“You’re right.” I nodded.

We finished preparing the meal together. Cam seemed quieter than usual. Damn, I was screwing things up with her. She didn’t need a fuck-buddy. She needed a protector and someone to support her through all the bullshit she was dealing with. Because this cat-and-mouse game with Franky? It wasn’t a game at all. One wrong move and it could all turn to crap. I had to get my priorities right. And number one was looking after Cam, both mentally and physically.

I served up a plate for each of us while Cam popped the tops on two fresh beers. We moved to the table and sat opposite each other, same as the night before.

My eyes followed the lines of her slender neck as she drew long from the bottle. Damn. She even made drinking a beer look sexy as hell.

She took in the food on the table. “Looks delicious.”

“It does. Do you like to cook?”

Cam shrugged. “I don’t mind. Same as you, I guess, I learned out of necessity. Dad wasn’t home much at dinner time, or ever.”

“Was your mom never around?”

She poked at her food. “Not for long. She died when I was little.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

She shook her head, dismissing my pity. “It’s okay. Mom left when I was a baby. From what I know now, sounds like she suffered from postpartum depression. She wasn’t coping with two little ones, so she left. Walked out the door and never looked back.” Cam picked at the beer label. “Dad said he tried to find her. I guess he thought she’d come home when she was ready. It wasn’t the first time Mom had left him. Turns out she’d hitchhiked all the way to Seattle, got herself as far from us as possible without leaving the country. A few months after she left, the police contacted Dad and told him they’d found her body. She OD’d on painkillers. We never knew if she did it on purpose or not.” She drew a ragged breath.


Tags: Julie Weaver Team Zulu Romance