Page 122 of The Pucking Wrong Man

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I...was a nobody. A street urchin. My father was in prison and my mother had left me. I was a foster child who hadn’t been wanted.

Oh, and I’d been fired from being a busser tonight...so there was that.

“Anastasia is the most incredible ballerina in the whole world. I saw her on stage and I was hooked. I’m serious guys, when you see her dance. It’s life-changing. I dream about her dancing. And she was recently picked for a showcase of Giselle, one of the hardest pas de deux’s in ballet,” Camden announced...and I wasn’t sure how it was possible...but he sounded even prouder than anyone else had.

He had also completely butchered the term pas de deux.

Camden completely got an A-plus for effort though.

“Wow.”

“That’s awesome.”

“I can’t wait to see you perform!”

They all said incredibly nice things, and I was a blushing, sweating mess because it had been a very long time since I’d gotten this kind of support from people.

I wished they could be my friends.

The lights dimmed, and Walker stiffened. “Shit, she’s coming out. Do you think the lights will be okay for the baby? You know sometimes Olivia has red cheeks after performing. Maybe I should have put sunscreen on her belly...and headphones too...just in case it’s too loud for the baby’s ears.”

“Is he serious?” I whispered to Camden, keeping one eye on the stage because I didn’t want to miss a second of Olivia singing.

“This is tame for him,” Camden muttered back, giving me another sexy wink.

I was pretty sure I was addicted to those.

I forgot all about anything else when Olivia Freaking Davis walked out on the stage. Even more stunning than her pictures and videos with her long dark-auburn hair, gorgeous face, and the cutest baby bump I’d ever seen.

And we were only feet from the stage.

“My name is Olivia Davis, and I’m going to play some songs for you tonight,” she said, in a sweet, clear voice—the same thing she’d said at the start of every performance since her first show.

As if she needed any introduction.

“You know that phone records things, right?” Camden whispered, and I startled because I honestly had forgotten anyone else was in the room.

Some people loved chocolate.

I loved Olivia Davis.

I grabbed my phone immediately and had Camden show me how to video things because I didn’t want to miss a thing.

“Looks like we have another simp on our hands,” Ari commented, before he huffed in pain. I was pretty sure Walker had punched him.

“Everyone is allowed to simp on my wife. She’s perfect,” Walker said, and I sighed because it was so cute.

Olivia began to sing, some of her new stuff and some of her old stuff, and all of it was completely amazing and wonderful, something I would remember forever and ever.

Camden sang along to some of the songs, but mostly he watched me, holding me tight as he took in my every move. I would catch his eyes sometimes and get caught up because he looked like he liked me so much.

Some girls might have even mistaken it for love.

Along the way his hands stroked against my sides, up and down, sending sparks over my skin that only had one end in mind.

I was faintly aware of everyone dancing around me, and the trickle of sweat sliding down my spine from the mass of bodies around us heating the room. I tasted the cold drink Camden handed me, the sweetness overpowering my tastebuds.

But I was mostly aware of the fact that every love song that Olivia sang reminded me of how Camden made me feel.

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