Page 64 of SALT

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Everett asks as a nervous smile plays at his lips.

"Just collecting a moment," I answer.

His brow furrows slightly, but his thumb continually strokes over the back of mine as he drives us to work. This is the first time I've seen this side of Everett. For as long as I've known him, he's been all work and no play. Suits morning, noon, and night; quiet and around but not present, hardened. When it's just us, he's none of those things. Holding my hand while he drives has become second nature for him. It's part of his routine as though it's always been there. He puts his key fob in the center console, presses the start button, and then reaches for my hand as he backs out. It's a small gesture that makes my heart flutter whenever he does it.

"Have you put any more thought into starting your own brand?"

His change in subject tells me my words made him feel. He's not ready to own those feelings and face what they mean. I know the age gap makes him skeptical for more than just the face value reasons, like believing my interest is temporary, something I need to get out of my system before I realize we couldn't possibly have anything in common. It's the reminder that I'm his dead best friend's daughter. He's a successful lawyer and a prominent philanthropist who started one of the biggest self-made charity fundraisers to raise awareness, built a support system, and drove funding into the hands of people who can make a difference in the fight against domestic violence and trafficking. Our relationship from the outside looking in sorely contrasts with his image. I get that. However, I don't know that it's his image he cares about. Whatever is besting him feels like a clash of morals and beliefs, and then there's still Connor. If I dare to let myself dream about a real future with Everett, he will always be part of it. He might be the ultimate hurdle. Can he get past seeing me as an honorary sister and transition to stepmom? Can I? Admittedly, that thought sounds off-putting, but if you strip away the titles, all that's left is love. It's why I don't take his change in subject to heart. We're both growing through this in our own way.

"I have. With the inventory management software installed and automatic re-order points set, the place practically runs itself. It's given me extra time between customers to do some market research and determine viability. When I thought about a career in fashion, it was always high-end and couture, but I've worked at baseball fields for the past five years now, and they've grown on me. I considered athleisure. Everyone wears it, but because of that, the market is saturated with options."

"So where does that leave you with your future plans?"

I purse my lips and look out the window. I'm unsure why I'm nervous, maybe because speaking my ideas into the universe gives them wings. It is a manifestation of the highest power, speaking your dreams into existence. "I want to design athletic apparel. After dealing with the uniform mishap this season, I think there's a market for it. And I'm not talking wholesale or retail distribution. I want to be a premium brand known for quality."

He nods. "I like it."

He likes it? That's all he's got for me after I confessed my dreams?

"That's it? You like it… not I think that's a great idea. Hell, I'd even settle for that's a terrible investment as long as you were telling the truth."

He squeezes my hand before bringing it to his lips. "Cameron, that was an honest reaction. If you didn't get the response you hoped for, it's not because you don't have my never-ending support. It's because I was thinking it through. I've already told you the fashion world is not my area of expertise. I'm a lawyer, but I'll admit, since you told me you wanted to go into fashion, I may have read an article or two." An article or two. Everett rarely sleeps, which means he's probably done an entire case study. "On concept alone, I think you have a solid idea that could turn into a lucrative empire."

We pull into the stadium's parking lot, and he releases my hand. "You really think it's good?" I ask before he has a chance to exit the car. I don't need to find investors; I have my own money, but I also don't want to squander it on half-cocked ideas.

"The dream was put in your heart, Cameron. You're the only one who can nourish, cultivate, and see it through. Dreaming is the easy part. It takes courage to believe in it and bring it to life, but if anyone can make a dream reality, I know it's you." His eyes hold mine, and I know those last words were twofold. He was once only a dream.

I nod and reach for the door handle with a renewed sense of determination, but before I can exit, he grabs my arm. "You know the moments you've been collecting?" It takes me a second to connect what he's referring to, but I nod yes, believing that I do. "I collect them too. Make sure tomorrow morning when I open my eyes, you're right where you were when I closed them."

I can't help but smile, and he releases me. This morning, I woke up at five a.m. with a million concepts that I had to put on paper before I lost them. While I hated leaving his bed, I love knowing he missed me.

I've been in the shop for an hour, opening and getting ready for the game this evening. I don't need to get in as early as I do. I've only been coming in at that time to spend the car rides with Everett. I'm only on the clock an hour before game time. When I offered my assistance to Connor, it was for designing apparel, not working in the team shop. After realizing everything I was doing, he insisted on paying me even though I had told him it wasn't necessary. It's a minimum wage salary. I'm not getting paid extra because of who I am, but he didn't feel right about me being here and taking care of things for free. What he doesn't know is I've been taking that money and putting it back into the shop. That's what friends do. I just wanted this job for my resumè, not the paycheck, and now that I've got things on track here, I'm going to talk to Stormy about taking a step back. I'll still be around, but I really want to get things rolling on my business; plus, things are starting to happen at my property, and I want to be there. It's why I need my computer now. I need to open one of the files Mackenzie sent over last night and review it before approving. I'm about to exit the stadium when I remember the car beeping behind us as we walked inside this morning.

"It's locked." Damn, now I have to run upstairs. At least I wore wedges today.

I've wised up. One day, I wore heels trying to turn Everett's head, and my feet hated me for it. Heels on concrete all day was a certified bad decision. I jog up the steps toward the announcer's booth, where the only two offices are located, and find Everett at his computer. My wedges gave me the element of surprise. I make a mental note, adding cute and stealthy to the list of reasons these shoes are better than heels. I take a second to admire this side of him. It's the side I fell for. I wouldn't say I have a type, I've dated country boys, musicians, and jocks, but there's something to be said about a refined man. Even without a suit, he's poised, meticulous, and astute, not to mention sexy as fuck. He started wearing glasses a few months back, but only when he works on his computer. I swear, every time I see them, my ovaries weep. Great. I just came up here to grab keys, and now my brain is headed straight for the gutter. I rasp my knuckles on the metal door frame, alerting him to my presence as I let myself in. The formidable expression reserved for the world softens when he sees it's me.

Then he's out of his chair. "Is something wrong?"

"No," I say as I press a few buttons on the calculator setting atop his desk. "I need your keys." I haven't made a habit of frequenting his office.

He steps into me and wraps his arms around my waist. "Are you leaving me?"

"To leave you, I'd first need to have you." I slowly raise my eyes to his. "Do I have you?"

He pulls me flush against his front and drops his mouth to my ear. "Wrapped around your finger," he softly answers before trailing open-mouthed kisses up my neck and along my jaw until, finally, his delicious mouth is on mine. Yet another reason not to leave his bed in the morning. His kisses. They're everything. One kiss erases my fear and dissolves time. It's an indescribable feeling of completion, like the coming together of pieces you never knew were missing until suddenly they were there. His hand trails up to my neck, and his kiss grows deeper as a low growl rumbles up through his chest. I fucking love that sound. It's the sound of rapture, and it's intoxicating knowing that I'm the source. His lips hastily leave mine only to drop to my bare shoulder before descending. My head lolls back as his mouth paralyzes me, and I forget why I came up here to begin with. Teeth pinch my nipple through the material of my strapless maxi dress, and I can't help but hiss at the sting of pain. "Shh," he coos before pulling down the front of my dress and sucking my nipple into his mouth.

"Mmm," I moan as warmth spreads through my belly. His fingers slowly bunch in my dress, pulling it up as his lips lock around my other nipple. He sucks hard, and my core clenches, begging for more. Those smooth hands expertly start to knead my bare thigh as they journey closer to the spot I need him the most. He teasingly toys with the hem of my thong. "Ev, please," barely leaves my lips before two digits glide through my folds.

Those soft, plump lips trail back up my chest, and his eyes find mine. "I couldn't say no even if I wanted to. You own me. You've always owned me." I don't get a chance to respond before his mouth covers mine, and his fingers slip inside of me. I couldn't form words even if I wanted to. His tongue dives deeper with a groan as his palm presses into my clit. My pussy starts to clench hard, and his lips pull away from mine. "Fuck…" he hisses. "I want you to come on my fingers, sunshine, and then I want you to do it again on my cock."

The words have barely finished leaving his lips when the sound of heels clicking up the staircase outside of his office has us hurriedly pulling apart. I instantly drop to my knees and duck under his desk to pull up my dress. When I look up, his eyes worriedly find mine, and I gesture with my thumb for him to wipe his lips. My gloss is definitely on them.

"Everett, are you up here?" Moira calls just before she rounds the corner. Damn. What is with this woman? I swear she's forever a thorn in my side. They've been separated practically since I moved in at seventeen. A week after I found Everett watching her kiss Kipp beside the lake, she started sleeping in another room. They lived together almost another year before they announced their divorce. She's constantly inserting herself where she no longer belongs, and it's infuriating. If this were any other man, I wouldn't be crawling under the desk, ensuring I'm not discovered. I'd mark my territory. But he's not. So I push down my pride and hide.

"Moira." I hear the unease in his voice. "Another surprise visit," he adds, taking a seat and slowly scooting in. I'm instantly perturbed until I see why. He can't stand; doing so would give away the fact that he's rock-hard. My insides twist at the memory of him being buried deep inside me when we fell asleep last night. Fucking Moira.

"I know you've never liked me coming to the office, but since you took away my house key, this is the only place I knew I'd be able to find you and not intrude."

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