Page 25 of Freeing Camila

And that, right there, was the problem. It wasn’t something he could easily walk away from. The way she fit against him, the way she made him feel more alive than he had in years—it was a pull he couldn't fight, a gravity that kept him anchored in her orbit. He’d tried to tell himself it was just a moment, something fleeting, but deep down, he knew better. The truth was, he didn’t want to walk away. Not from her. Not from what they had started, even if he was scared of what it could mean.

So, when he pulled the door open to the bakery later that afternoon, he held his breath, hoping he wouldn’t fuck up everything for both of them.

He stepped into the bakery, the air rich with the scent of freshly baked bread and spices. The bohemian decor—vibrant tapestries, mismatched furniture, and cozy nooks—gave the space a relaxed, inviting energy. Soft acoustic music played in the background, and the gentle hum of conversation added to the intimate atmosphere. It felt like time had slowed down, leaving only the warmth of the space and the promise of something sweet.

And speaking of something sweet—there she was, a delicate vision, her laughter like tinkling bells. He drank her in. He had found her outfit from the bar to be incredibly sexy, but what she wore now surpassed it completely in terms of allure. A provocative display of skin, the sheer fabric barely concealed the slight curves beneath. The sleeveless black tank top she wore showcased her beautifully toned arms.

The little white shorts hugged her slender legs, accentuating their shape. She might’ve been petite, her legs more graceful than long, but that didn’t stop his mind from slipping into dangerous territory—imagining them wrapped tightly around his waist, drawing him in with a fierce, breathless need that sent his pulse racing and scattered every innocent thought he had left.

Fuck me.He was done for.

“What do you call a fake spaghetti?” Mrs. Lenzer from behind the counter asked.

Jeeves smiled at the quirky baker. “I don’t know. What?” he asked, having learned long ago it was easier to play along.

“An impasta.”

He emitted a chuckle while his eyes were glued to the other woman behind the counter, and so he responded distractedly, “That's a good one, Mrs. Lenzer.”

Cammie’s laughter rang out, a bright, joyous sound that echoed through the bakery. The sound made him smile. He hadn’t been to the bakery since she’d started, and the intoxicating smell of dark roasted coffee, warm and slightly bitter, made him instantly regret not stopping in sooner.

“Oh, Wade. You’re just in time,” Cammie said after noticing it was him standing there.

“Hey, Cammie. You ’bout ready to go?”

“Yes. But first I need you to try this,” she said, holding out a cup of coffee to him. “It’s my newest blend. I hope you like a dark roast.”

He wrapped his fingers around the mug, the earthy scent of the coffee filling his nostrils as he took a sip. The dark roast coffee hit his tongue with bold intensity—deep, rich, and smoky. There was a slight bitterness, smooth and grounding, laced with hints of dark chocolate and spice. It was the kind of flavor that lingered, deep and slow-burning, much like the woman across from him—intense, unforgettable, and impossible not to crave.

He recoiled inwardly at the thought, a visceral reaction that made him wince. His flinch was barely perceptible, yet she picked up on it, her brow furrowing slightly as she asked, “Oh, you don't like it?”

The sharp lines of worry and the slump of her shoulders, a stark contrast to her usual vibrancy, nearly undid him. The weight of her disappointment pressed down on him. Fuck. Her frown had the power to unnerve him.

“No. No,” he rushed to assure her. “It’s fantastic. I can see why people are talking about your coffee.”

Her smile was so bright that it seemed to light up everything around her. She was beautiful.

“What are you two up to today?” He blinked, the question from Mrs. Lenzer bringing the bakery back into sharp focus. The fact that a mere smile from the tree sprite could have such an impact on him highlighted how fucked he was.

“Wade’s going to help me with some stuff,” Cammie replied.

“Good. That’s good. You could use a good friend, dear.” The sixty-year-old woman raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “But I still have high hopes that this friendship turns into something a lot more . . .enticing.”

Cammie choked on her coffee and a blush crept into her cheeks. Her eyes darted nervously to Jeeves before she stammered a response to Mrs. Lenzer’s bald statement, her voice a raspy wheeze escaping her lips. “It’s not like that, Marilyn.”

Mrs. Lenzer leaned in with a roguish glint in her eye, her voice full of mischief. “Sweetheart, the way that man looks at you—it’s like he’sstarving, and you’re the feast he’s been dreaming of. Don’t leave him hungry now.”

The fiery blush intensified on her face, becoming strikingly obvious even beneath her light tan. “And on that note,” Cammie said, taking both their empty mugs and dropping them in the dishpan. “We’re leaving.”

“Go on, you two, but remember—if the stars align, don’t juststargaze. . . make sure youget lost in each other,too.” As they left, the older woman’s laughter followed them out the door, the delicate tinkling of her dangling earrings providing a melodic accompaniment to her mirth.

“Ignore her,” Cammie mumbled.

CHAPTER11

Little Victories Bucket List No.9: Ride something with two wheels

For as long asCammie could remember, she’d fantasized about having a big extended family. She especially dreamed of a kindly old grandmother figure, someone warm, comforting, and full of gentle wisdom.

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