Page 104 of Never the Bride
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m a grown adult who can control myself.” He steps closer, flirtation rounding out his gaze. “But I’m going to hate every second of it. I’ll probably lie awake all night long, thinking about how much I hate it.”
I arch a brow, folding my arms. “And what? You think it will just be a walk in the park for me?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.” He leans one shoulder against the log bed post like he’s got all day to spar with me. “Are you attracted to me, Camila?”
“I guess it depends.” I tilt my head, pretending to think. “Are you going to be wearing your cowboy hat all weekend?”
A small smile cracks through. “Didn’t even bring it. I went with a baseball hat.”
“Then there shouldn’t be any real temptation for me,” I lie. “But you…you’re in trouble. I packed my royal-blue bikini for the hot tub.”
“I thought we made a rule you couldn’t wear that around me.”
“I thought you said you’re a grown adult who can control himself.”
His grin widens, lazy and lethal. “Careful, Camila, or I might start thinking youwantme to lose control.”
“Maybe I just like watching you sweat.”
He chuckles low, and then he moves, stepping around the corner of the bed to where I stand. His chest brushes my arm, the heat of him skimming too close. I inhale sharply, pulse jumping, but I refuse to step back. If anything, I plant my feet firmer.
For a suspended beat, we just stare at each other, the air between us growing with tension. His gaze drops to my mouth, and instantly, my mind races back to when he kissed me over a month ago. I recall the heat, the tenderness, the way it unraveled me completely.
Despite the warnings, I want him to kiss me again.
I tilt my chin up, an unspoken invitation. His gaze darts to mine as he leans in. My lips part, ready for his kiss, when his nephew barrels past the open door, shrieking with laughter. The noise jolts us apart.
I exhale shakily and glance at Hess. He looks as rattled as I feel. He mutters something unintelligible and continues unpacking his bag.
We’re thirty minutes into this holiday weekend, and we’ve already almost kissed.
That can’t be good for two people who are supposed to be getting a divorce in two months.
And who are sharing a bed tonight.
Camila
Hess’s family is loud.
The good kind of loud.
The kind I used to witness as a child, the few times Carly allowed me to visit her house.
I ached for that kind of chaos when I was little. The kids-laughing, pots-clanging-in-the-kitchen, siblings-teasing-each-other-across-the-living-room kind of house that makes it feel like a home.
I sit on the porch swing, taking it all in. Bart and Anita hover around the grill, bickering over dinner. He insists the steaks need more seasoning, and she tells him he already put too much garlic on them. He pulls her to him, giving her an indecent kiss while everyone groans. And for added effect, he pats her butt while Anita swats at him, pretending to be annoyed. It’s the kind of marriage I’ve only seen in movies or sitcoms. Until this moment, I honestly didn’t believe it existed in real life. I can see now why Hess believes in it. He has no reason not to.
And then there’s Hess, the favorite uncle, constantly surrounded by nieces and nephews. They climb him like he’s a jungle gym, tugging at his arms, screaming with giggles when he swings them high into the air. His grin is huge, unguarded, and I can’t look away. He’s so natural with them, patient and playful, the kind of man who’ll be an amazing dad someday, the kind of dad I envied growing up. My chest tightens unexpectedly, the thought pressing into a part of me I usually keep locked away.
“Okay, I have to go play with Camila now,” Hess says as he breaks away from the kids.
“Noooo!” one of them whines.
“I have to.” He gestures to me. “Look at her. She’s so sad.”
On cue, I force a dramatic frown. The kids must buy it, because they run off, leaving him free to join me on the porch swing. He casually sits, draping his arm over the back cushion, fingers dangling onto my shoulder. At first, it’s just a graze, but he shifts so he can tickle my skin, skimming his fingers up under my capsleeve. Goosebumps race down my arm, and I have to fight hard to keep from scratching them away.
His siblings waste no time turning their attention on Hess, circling him like hyenas.
