Page 59 of You're So Vine
“I’ve got the rest of the day off,” I say. “Want to ditch this donut and go to my place?”
“Good idea.”
Ava still has hold of my finger. She brings it to her mouth.
“Though I’d just like to finish this frosting.”
ChapterNineteen
AVA
Okay, so I’m a sucker. Literally. Cam and I should be sitting down right now and setting things straight. We should be talking, not making a furtive dash for hot make-up sex.
But I saw his face when he came into the kitchen and caught me leaning on Jackson. He was incandescent with jealousy. I know jealousy can be an unattractive quality when it’s all about control and possession. But Cam’s not the controlling type, and it gave me a small buzz to see how much me being in proximity to Jackson bothered him. You only get bothered if you care.
And when he came back into the kitchen after talking with Nate, he was genuinely contrite. Whatever brain fart made Cam drive up the coast, I believe he regrets it. And we will talk about what happened today. We will get things straight between us. But first, hot make-up sex it is!
I’m not exactly sure how to say our goodbyes tactfully, but when I look around, there’s no one there. For their sakes I hope they left when Cam came back indoors. The mental image of me sucking Cam’s finger could scar them for life.
“Doug’s got the truck,” says Cam. “You okay to walk?”
Little does he know I have plans to fireman’s lift him up to the bedroom soon as we arrive.
“Prefer to run,” I say. “But no more chat. Let’s go.”
I open the front door only a crack and peer outside. Can’t see anyone, but that doesn’t mean they’re not lurking.
“Okay,” I tell Cam. “Move fast until we reach the safety of the trees.”
“Who’s after us?” he asks.
“No one who values their life,” I reply. “Right. I’m making a break for it.”
And off I scoot, across the gravel, past the office, through the garden and into the trees that line the property. There’s a gate here, and a rough path that takes you to Cam’s workshop. It’s on the other side of a big stretch of vines, so the walk is maybe twenty minutes. Not long. Unless you’re insanely horny.
I expect Cam to be right beside me, but I’d forgotten what Shelby had told me: that Cam’s not built for running. She said his preferred speed is that of geological features forming. An exaggeration, but not that much. He’s still ambling across the gravel. Miles behind me.
And what’s this? Is that a goose I spy, waddling up to him, making shouty honking noises? Does he stop, so he can rummage in his pants pocket and hold out a handful of dried corn kernels for said goose? Why, yes, he does. He even takes time to pat it on the neck when it pecks at his hand for more. I don’t dare yell at him to shift his ass, because that will undoubtedly bring one of the vineyard crew our way. So, I hang by the gate, insane now with impatience as well as horniness. Until he finally arrives.
“Remind me never to agree to a three-legged race with you,” he says. “I’d fall flat on my back first step, and you’d drag me the whole way along the ground.”
“Yes, and we’d still win,” I say, and smack him on the rear like a horse. “Comeon.”
“Anyone tell you the story of the old bull and the young bull?” he says, still traveling at an inch per hour.
“Nope.” I’m walking in circles, dashing forwards and looping back to him.
“It’s kind of sexist, so I’ll skip the details,” he says. “Lesson is: conserve your energy and you’ll go the distance. If you know what I mean.”
I pause. “Is that a promise? Or a dare?”
Cam takes advantage of my temporary halt to bring me into his arms, a place I am happy to be brought. I wrap my own arms around his waist and look up at him.
“A promise,” he says. “I owe you.”
He bends and kisses me for … who knows, I lose track. When he breaks it, I find I’m on tiptoes and clutching a fistful of his shirt. And, amazingly, no less horny.
I glance around. We’re in a group of trees through which we can see the vines. We can also see quite a few vine workers, but they seem super busy. Not looking in our direction at all.
