Page 4 of Lock 'em Down

“So, you’re celebrating?” Leif asks.

“As are you,” I remind him, tipping my glass in his direction.

He clinks his glass against mine, amusement, curiosity, and something deeper—desire?—rolling through his irises. “What are the odds I’d meet a fellow Minnesotan—a fellow alumnus from U of M—here?”

I bite my bottom lip. “It’s fate.”

“Kismet,” he agrees before we both toss back our shots.

Destiny.

If you believe in those types of things.

Two

Leif

“Wait! You live in Ottawa?” Mia points at Hudson.

He smirks. “Yep. Leif used to be my roommate before he moved.”

“And you’re from…Honey Harbor?” Mia’s forehead wrinkles as she tries to remember where Chris is from. “In Upstate New York.”

“Yes,” he confirms.

“And you’re Minnesotan.” Mia gestures toward me.

“Texas,” Ray provides his home state.

“Jersey,” James tacks on.

Tamara shakes her head. “How do y’all know each other?”

I snort. “College. Same as you.”

“Wait! You all went to U of M too?” Mia gushes.

“Sure did,” Ray confirms.

“Oh my God! It’s like an alumni reunion.” Mia’s wide eyes meet Cami’s. “That’s what we are now! Alumni!”

“Cut her off,” Izzy mutters, flicking her hand in front of her face.

Cami reaches for Mia’s margarita and takes a sip before her friend grabs it back. She winks at me playfully and I’m pinned in place by her blue eyes. Damn, but she’s gorgeous. Simultaneously inviting yet enigmatic. She’s got this pull to her—an energy that hums just under the surface. I want to get tugged into her orbit, even though I have no clue what it will entail. I fight my grin; sure looks like fun though.

One side of her mouth lifts in response and I can’t help but fully smile. There’s that hint of intrigue I want to understand. With light brown hair that hangs past her shoulders, soft bangs—Birkin bangs! My sister Annie’s voice echoes in my eardrums—and dazzling blue eyes, Cami is obviously beautiful, but it’s more than that. And the more is the thing I can’t put my finger on.

I like the sound of her laugh and the easy way she carries herself. Like she doesn’t take herself—or anyone else—too seriously. My family says I’m like that too. And I am, to an extent. But I also only do shit on my own terms.

“What are you doing now that you’re finished with school?” I ask her, more interested than I usually am about a woman I just met.

She sighs and sweeps her bangs to the side, out of her eyes. “Actually, I’m moving. Next week.”

I arch an eyebrow. “New job?”

She wrinkles her nose. “At an accounting firm. It’s an entry-level position, a year to learn the ropes before taking the CPA exam.”

I chuckle. “Is that what you majored in? Accounting?”

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