Page 32 of Craving

He took a sip of coffee and nodded, his face solemn. “Okay.”

“I’m attracted to you,” she blurted. “Very attracted to you.”

His expression didn’t noticeably shift, but it did become more intense. “But…?”

“But it’s really not a good time for me to get involved with anyone. You’ve opened your home to me, and the last thing I want to do is mess that up. If we start adding sex into the equation and things turn sour between us, I’d never forgive myself. Things are…complicated right now.”

There was a pause. “I understand,” Marlon answered slowly.

Camilla’s throat felt tight. The oatmeal sat in her stomach like a lump. She hated having these kinds of conversations, but her life was already a rickety roller coaster. She couldn’t add a relationship right now, however casual—or not—that relationship might be. “There’s a lot going on at the bakery. I have a...deadline coming up, and I can’t afford to mess up.”

Brows furrowing slightly, Marlon tilted his head to study her. “What kind of deadline? The Goodhew wedding?”

“Um, yeah.” She shouldn’t have mentioned the deadline at all, but the fact that she had was just more proof of how frazzled she’d become around Marlon. “I just really need to focus.”

A deep nod. “Okay. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable yesterday. That wasn’t my intention.”

“You didn’t.” She gave an awkward laugh. “I…I wanted to kiss you. But it’s not a good time for me.”

Marlon seemed like he wanted to say something more, but he let out a huff and relaxed in his chair. “This is what rules are for, I guess. This should be a sex-free zone.”

Camilla huffed, surprised. The tension melted from the air as they got up to clear the dishes. When she shut the door to the dishwasher, she bumped Marlon’s shoulder, and he bumped hers back. Then they got to work.

By noon, they’d installed the moldings, sanded and cleaned the walls, and put down drop cloths. Camilla set out a paint tray and watched Marlon pour silky white primer into the plastic dish. Dipping a paint brush into the primer, Camilla started on the corners, moldings, and edges while Marlon loaded the roller up with white.

“How does it feel to be redecorating your grandparents’ place?” Camilla asked after a few minutes of quiet work.

Marlon let out a hum. “Feels good. Like a fresh start.”

“Good. I was worried I pushed you into this.”

“I think I needed the push.” He looked over at her with a hint of a smile on his face. He had a bit of primer in his beard, and Camilla smothered the urge to walk over and wipe it off. “I think I get too comfortable leaving things as they are.”

“But you run your own business,” Camilla pointed out. “You can’t do that without pushing yourself out of your comfort zone at least a little. Ask me how I know.”

Marlon hummed as he dipped the roller into the tray once more. “True. Business seems different somehow. Maybe because I can leave it behind when I come home.”

“I had the opposite experience. When I started the bakery, I was living in a literal closet under the stairs in a house full of college kids. It was the only room I could afford. The bakery became my refuge.”

“You couldn’t live at home?”

Camilla let out a bitter snort. “I moved out when I was seventeen. My parents didn’t approve of culinary school, so I was on my own from then on. Moving home would have meant giving up my chosen career path.” She grabbed the stepladder to start on the top corners where the walls met the ceiling.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished.”

“You should be,” he told her, and his words made Camilla’s chest warm.

He’d moved closer, so he was rolling the wall right beside her. Camilla glanced over from the top of the stepladder and was struck by the color of his eyes, the line of his jaw, the powerful muscles moving under his tee. He was a gorgeous man, and he looked at her like he meant what he said. He admired her for what she’d achieved.

She wanted to share something else with him. She wanted this connection between them to grow. So, before she could hold back, Camilla said, “It was hard. I made a lot of mistakes, so I don’t want you to think I was some kind of success right out of the gate.”

He hummed and dipped his roller in the tray again. “What kind of mistakes?”

Where to begin? “I dated a guy pretty soon after I moved out. We moved in together within a few weeks of knowing each other, and it…wasn’t good. It took me a long time to figure out he wasn’t the knight in shining armor I thought he was.”

The roller moved along the wall, and Marlon’s body moved with liquid grace. He kept his eyes on his work, but he was frowning. “Why’d you move in with him so quickly?”

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