Page 80 of Be Mine Forever

Cam’s emotions went into hiding. He turned away from her, but Jo noted the tighter shoulders and tenser tone of voice.

“No, I think I’m going back to my old neighborhood. Find a bridge or an alley to paint. Graffiti does it for me sometimes. Unsticks me. Inspires me.”

From what she could tell, his old neighborhood had been hell for him. If Cam was venturing back into hell, she was going with him.

“Can I come?”

“No way.” Cam shook his head and headed back into the bedroom. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

Jo speed-walked into the closet where she’d transferred a good quarter of her wardrobe from home, scrambling to find a pair of skinny jeans and a cropped hoodie. She threw on some flats, twisted her hair up into a knot on her head, and zipped to the studio. Cam was loading paints and spray cans into a saddlebag. He glanced up, a frown settling on his brow.

“You’re not coming with me, babe.”

Jo had never thought of herself as having feminine wiles, but she also hadn’t lived twenty-nine years as the Walsh “princess” without learning a thing or two about getting her way.

“I just…” Jo paused, leaning against the table and looking down at the floor, biting her lip.

“I just missed you today, and with the adoptions falling through…” Jo sighed, shrugged, blinked quickly as if she might cry. “I kind of need you right now is all.”

She kept her eyes stuck to the floor but noted Cam’s motions slowing until he stopped altogether and stared at her. He crossed the room, saddlebag slung over his shoulder. He tipped her chin up, searching her eyes. It really had been a hard day. She focused all her energy on looking like she was at the end of herself.

“It’s not the best place, baby.” Cam rolled his thumb over her cheekbone.

“But I’d be with you, so I’d be okay, right?”

She didn’t exactly flutter her lashes because that would tip Cam off right away, but she did this slow blink thing that she hoped might have a similar effect.

“Well…” Cam chewed the corner of his mouth and then blew a breath out. “Okay, I guess you can come.”

She followed him back into the living room, promising herself she would never underestimate the power of long lashes again.

“Great. Just let me grab my purse.” Jo scooped up the Birkin bag she’d carried to work that day.

“We should probably leave that here.” Cam plucked the bag from her hands, setting it back onto the couch. “Nothing says steal me like a seven-thousand-dollar purse.”

Jo wouldn’t correct him, but good luck finding an ostrich-skin shooting star Birkin for seven thousand dollars. Now thatwouldbe a steal.

***

An hour later, Jo assessed the neighborhood they rode through. So this was Barfield projects. The first thing she noted was the almost complete absence of green. No trees. No plants. No flowers. Nolife. Not even daylight would improve this neighborhood much.

Cam drove deeper in, weaving through streets and side alleys like he’d only been here yesterday. After a few minutes, he pulled alongside a building that looked like it literally might fall over any minute. If buildings had legs, this one would be on its last.

“It’s condemned.” Cam threw one leg over the seat and unstrapped his helmet.

“Looks the part.”

Cam turned to her, tipping his mouth up at a corner. With gentle hands, he pulled off her helmet and brushed his fingers through the loose waves spilling around her shoulders. Jo climbed off the back of Cam’s Harley (he’d looked at her like she should be committed when she asked if they were taking his Ducati).

“You sure you won’t get bored? We won’t stay long. I just need to get some of what’s in my head on a wall.”

“No, I’ll be fine.” Jo climbed off and dug into his saddlebag, pulling out her knitting kit. “See, I brought something to do.”

Cam looked from the knitting needles to Jo’s face, maybe four times before a laugh barged past his lips.

“Babe, you brought your knitting to Barfield projects? That’s what you’re going to do while I paint?”

“What did you think I was going to do? A crossword puzzle?”

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