Page 18 of Freeing Camila

Throughout the evening, Mellie reappeared several times, each time bearing a different alcoholic beverage for her to try. While the taste of beer remained unappealing to her, she developed a liking for rum drinks, and Melli’s mojitos, with their refreshing blend of rum, mint, and lime, quickly became a favorite. Eventually, with Cammie’s stomach rumbling and a need to sop up the liquor, the aroma of fried chicken wings drew her in, and she ordered a basket. And now she had acquired a taste for bar food. Between the sweets at Flour Power and the food at the Hooch and Harmony bar, her waistline was going to suffer.

As she ate, Cammie watched the pair of bartenders. Other differences between the father/daughter duo, aside from their looks, became increasingly evident. With an easygoing temperament and a smile that could melt glaciers, she charmed everyone she served. The upbeat tempo of the band apparently spurred the woman on; she danced and sang along, the music a vibrant part of her work. Melli possessed a figure that many women only dreamed of, a curvaceous form that she used to her advantage, knowing how to work her assets. Each hip shake sent a wave of whoops and hollers through the bar, adding to the lively atmosphere.

On the other hand, her father’s personality was strikingly different. With a reserved and stoic air, Dizzy kept watch over his patrons and his daughter, his quiet attentiveness a contrast to the lively environment of the establishment. If things got too rowdy, thanks to his daughter’s antics, the mere sight of him stepping toward an unruly patron was enough to quiet them down.

A pang of jealousy struck Cammie. Dizzy’s vigilance over his daughter was clear; a fierce protectiveness that made her wonder what it felt like to have such a bond. Before she could unleash a torrent of tears over the life she would never have, she averted her gaze from the two bartenders, turning her barstool to distract herself by watching the dancers instead.

Drawn in by the patrons’ skillful and seemingly effortless execution of the dances, she was filled with wonder at their perfect synchronization and mastery of the steps. The rhythmic stomp and clap of their dance filled the air, each twist and turn a mesmerizing display that fueled her envy. Laughter and cheerful shouts filled the air as everyone seemed to be having the best time, their joy infectious. She imagined what it would be like to abandon all her inhibitions and simply let loose. The exuberant laughter, the uninhibited dance, the sweet taste of recklessness on her tongue. To cast off the shackles of restraint and allow herself the unrestrained joy of walking on the wild side; what a transformative experience that would be.

If only she were brave enough. The Carmela of before, the timid, reserved person she used to be, would never have dared. Would never have been so bold. But could Cammie?

Before she could formulate an answer, the doors swung inward with a loud bang, and a group of men, their laughter and conversation already filling the air, strode into the bar. The polished wooden floor amplified the sound of their footsteps as they confidently strode toward a collection of empty high-top tables. Heads turned, and whispers followed as they moved through the dimly lit bar, captivating the attention of most women and a few men at the bar; a hush fell over the lively chatter. Each one of the men had a bearing that spoke of quiet strength and keen intelligence, their eyes sharp and alert.

As the men made their way across the room, weaving between tables, they waved and shouted greetings to several nearby patrons, the sounds of their voices mingling with the boisterous chatter of the bar. Several times one or more of them would stop to greet someone with that back slapping man hug thing guys did. It was clear that the men were regulars and well-respected within the establishment.

They reminded her of the man from the park who had rescued her from the tree, his strong hands and calm voice echoing in her memory. She’d thought of the man many times since that day. No matter how hard she tried, his face and kindness would always be etched in her memory.

When the group shifted, Cammie sucked in a breath, her heart quickening as her eyes fell upon the very man who had only moments before occupied her thoughts.

“Ah, I see you’ve noticed the Condor’s?” Melli said from behind her.

“The Condor’s?”

“Condor’s Overwatch. They are some sort of security company that operates around these parts. I don’t know much about what they do, but they are usually here a couple of nights a week,” Melli explained.

“I’ve met one of them.”

With a quick turn of her head, Cammie saw her new friend's surprised expression, her eyebrows shooting up in astonishment. “Ooh, do tell,” Melli prompted, a playful smile on her face as her interest was piqued. “Which one?”

Cammie looked back at the attractive group of men, spotting Wade instantly. The gray T-shirt clung to his muscular physique, his biceps straining against the tight fabric, showcasing his powerful build. The faded, worn jeans he wore hugged his lower half, enhancing his body in a way that should have been forbidden. Her body responded involuntarily, a novel and powerful need pulsing within her, unlike anything she had known.

Amused, Melli glanced over her shoulder, her tone light and teasing as she followed Cammie’s gaze, and replied with a knowing, “Ah, I see. You’ve got a thing for Jeeves.”

Cammie’s face exploded in a scarlet blush as a surprised, sputtering gasp escaped her lips. “It’s not like that.”

“Then why can’t you tear your eyes off of him?” Melli challenged.

The group of men shifted, and in that instant, their eyes met across the room; a spark ignited, and the air crackled with a potent energy that left her breathless.

CHAPTER8

“Fuck me,”Jeeves muttered as he locked eyes with the woman at the bar. The same woman who had incessantly occupied his thoughts. The same woman, with her bright smile and eyes that shone like sunlight through a bottle of whiskey. The little tree sprite his boss had ordered him to “keep his eye on.”

Hoot, having noticed Jeeves’ distraction before the others, asked, “What's up?”

“She’s here.”

“Who?” he asked, craning his neck to follow Jeeves’ gaze, his eyes scanning the bustling room.

Reluctantly, Jeeves answered. “The girl.”

“What girl?” Eggs joined in, leaning forward, his interest clearly sparked by the mention of a woman. “Can it be true? Is Jeeves, with his ever-present composure, smitten with a young lady?”

Jeeves pulled his gaze from Cammie to glare at his friend. “No,” he said, his voice flat and emotionless, despite the frantic pounding of his heart against his ribs, a reaction that had begun the instant their eyes connected.

“Are we talking about the hot new girl at the bar?” With his usual abruptness, Voodoo butted into their conversation, injecting his opinion.

“She’s hot?” Eggs asked, craning his neck to get a glimpse. As he noticed her, a long, appreciative whistle escaped his lips, the sound slicing through the air with a sharpness that grated on Jeeves’s nerves. “Fuck yeah. She’s hot. Why do you get all the good missions?” he whined.

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