Page 58 of Hiding Hollywood

Addie stared into space a moment. Oh well for looking good. For some reason, exercise clothes in front of guys didn’t bother her, but blue jeans? She’d tried so hard to look nice for Brian, to keep up her image as always being put together. Sure, she had some nice designer jeans back home, but not the old ones she’d brought in case her notoriously tomboyish friend in Florida forced her to go on a boat or something. Brian hated her wearing blue jeans. And even though she knew, absolutely, that Cameron was a different man, she couldn’t push away the insecurity.

She looked at her makeup. Overdone now that she was wearing a white tank top that cost, she glanced at the tag. Four dollars. It was cute, but more of a layering piece than a complete outfit. She couldn’t hurt Mrs. Dempsey’s feelings. She’d wear them. She was in the far corner of South Georgia. Taking a deep breath, she repeated to herself that it didn’t matter.

The benefit was for wounded Veterans. If everyone dressed a certain way, she didn't want to be the one that stood out.

She slipped it on, the jeans, and the boots before adjusting her makeup. Running her fingers through her hair, she loosened and separated the large curls. Downgrading to a set of pearl earrings, she held up the matching necklace. Might be too much. To cliché?

Nope, she clasped the necklace behind her neck. There was a reason she’d heard country songs sing about wearing pearls with blue jeans.

The natural look left her feeling exposed. Young. She’d hidden her geeky side, but being in Statem, taking the past week and a half to remember what she liked and not what Brian expected, had given her a better outlook on life. It wasn’t all about how she looked or what people saw when they looked at her. It also wasn’t about her computer job. She’d connected with new people for the first time since college.

And now she was going on a date. A real, boy-picks-you-up date. Dinner. Dancing. Complete with a severe case of butterflies.

But what if Cameron hated it?

She squeezed her eyes shut. Why did she care about what other people thought so much?

“Addie!” Mrs. Dempsey called. She glanced at her phone. Seven on the dot. Cameron wouldn’t be late.

Leaving the safety of her room, she walked through the kitchen. On the other side of the screened door, Cameron waited on the porch, his hip propped against the white railing. Her breath caught in her throat.

He wore blue jeans, blue plaid button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and boots that were scuffed enough to know they weren’t for show. Thank goodness Mrs. Dempsey was on the porch or else they might not make it benefit. The thought of undoing each one of her uptight cop’s buttons made her pulse race.

“Here she is.” Mrs. Dempsey smiled and winked. Cameron’s look was a little less subtle and brought an instant flush to her cheeks. Seeing the appreciation and want in his eyes smoothed out her nerves over her outfit. Knowing that giving his mom two thumbs up might be a mood kill, she opted for the subdued approach.

“Thanks again for helping.”

Mrs. Dempsey looked as though she might burst with excitement as she watched Cameron. “Y’all have fun. Tell Rhonda I said hi.”

Cameron held out his hand. “Will do,” he answered, his eyes never leaving Addie’s. Even now, with the attraction between them zinging and zapping, he hadn’t cracked a smile.

She felt a spike of anger at Jennifer for bringing him to this. She’d given him an ultimatum with an impossible choice, his lifelong dream or her. No one should force another person into that. It’s one thing to give up a dream freely. She’d never ask that of Cameron. He belonged to Statem, on the right side of the law, and as far away from what she did as possible. Helether work right now at his house, but that situation didn’t have any long-term potential. But long-term wasn’t on her mind. Only tonight.

His gaze didn’t waver from staring straight ahead. His jaw clenched. Would he be like this all night? Stiff. Quiet. Aside from the heated once-over he’d given her when she’d first walked out, nothing else indicated the man even had a pulse.

She was supposed to be nervous. Not Cameron.

He held open the door of his truck for her to climb in. Shifting, she braced her feet apart and put her hands on her hips.

“What’s wrong?”

He blinked, the awareness that she spoke appearing to dawn on him slower than usual. “What?”

“I asked what is wrong.”

“Nothing.”

“Bad day at work?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Bad sleep?”

“No.”

“Bad Chinese food?”

That one earned her a half-smile. “No. I ate pork chops.”

---