Page 17 of Lucky Star

Chapter Seven

Sarah

Iwoke up a few hours after dawn broke, startled out of a deep sleep by the heat from another person pressed against me. In that hazy, vague moment just after your body wakes but your mind hasn’t quite caught up yet, I panicked over the presence of that large, masculine body in my bed. It was only a second or two before everything that had taken place the night before came floating back.

Cameron Scott was in my bed.

Barely suppressing a spastic happy dance under the covers, I stretched my arms up over my head, a satisfied smile splitting my face.

I turned, hoping to watch him sleep. Instead, I found him already awake, studying me.

“Good morning,” he said when our eyes met, and I felt a flutter of something wonderful and new take shape in the recesses of my heart. Rising, he placed a warm, soft kiss on my forehead before dropping back down to burrow under the covers.

“Good morning,” I echoed, my voice coming out breathy.

Cameron Scott was in my bed, and he was in love with me. I couldn’t quite believe it was real. This strange, happy twist of fate wasn’t something that happened in real life. It wasn’t something that happened in my life. It was the sort of thing you only saw in the movies.

The movies.

That’s when I remembered we’d never gotten around to discussing the drama of my work day as it related to the excitement of his.

“Congratulations, by the way. I’m so proud of you.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he murmured, rolling onto his back to stare up at the ceiling.

I thought he’d have more to say—after all, this was his big break, something he’d worked toward for years—and I would have said something about his lack of excitement, but when a weighty sigh left his body, I bit my tongue. That was not the good kind of sigh, and it worried me. Briefly, I wondered if he was going to tell me what the problem was or if I was going to have to drag it out of him like I always did. For as great a listener as Cameron could be when others needed a shoulder to cry on, he had a heck of a hard time talking about his problems.

I scooted over and set my chin to his chest and glared at him from close range. “That was not the kind of sigh I want to hear you make when you’re in my bed.” I gently bit his nipple to make sure I had his attention. “Start talking mister.”

He darted his eyes from the ceiling to my face and smiled, and I swear my heart nearly stopped right then and there.

“I like this a lot. You’re still you, and I’m still me, and despite what happened last night, at the heart of everything we’re still best friends.”

“Of course, we’re still best friends,” I replied, wondering when he was going to let me steer the conversation back to his newfound stardom. “What did you expect?”

“Truthfully?” He appeared to give the question some thought. “I never thought we’d get here, so I never let myself hope. When I watched you walk out of your office, I expected you to punch me in the nuts and tell me to go fuck myself.” He laughed and rubbed his hand along the light stubble that dotted his jaw.

“I’m pretty sure I did tell you to go fuck yourself.” I was quite proud of myself that I hadn’t melted at his feet instead. “And speaking of punching, you need to go to urgent care because that looks terrible.”

“It’s fine,” he answered in a manner that suggested he was not going to get it looked at.

Why he refused to see a doctor, I had no clue, but to prove just how fine his hand wasn’t, I squeezed it gently.

“Holy fucking shit!” he yelled, jumping off the bed and landing on the other side of the small room.

Hearing Cameron’s shouts, Duke ran in and howled, adding his own colorful commentary to the debate.

“Shut up Duke!” Cameron shouted.

At this, my dog stopped howling, cocked his ears, and slunk out of the room. Poor Duke. He loved Cameron more than anyone else—and that included me. The fact that he was taking his anger out on my poor besotted canine made me want to break his other hand.

“Don’t you yell at my fucking dog!”

“Don’t you yell at me!” he hollered back, turning to face me as he clutched his bruised fingers.

“I wouldn’t have to yell at you if you weren’t so pig-headed!” I yelled back before realizing how idiotic we both sounded.

I also realized he was standing in front of me buck naked, the first time I’d seen him nude in the full light of day. He stole both my breath and my words—immediately I forgot what I’d been about to say. How could I not? Everything about him was pure perfection, especially a particularly weighty nine inches that I couldn’t tear my eyes away from.

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