Page 63 of The Long Game

We were at the Vasquez farm again.

Only this time, there weren’t any yoga mats or fluffy farm animals jumping and bleating around. It was a Friday evening, the sun had already set, and I was holding my right limited-edition Manolo Blahnik in my hands.

Cameron killed the engine of his truck and got out of the vehicle. He wordlessly pointed at the shoe and shot me a questioning glance.

“The heel snapped,” I explained in an unamused tone. Because how would I be amused? In one hand I lifted the beautiful, lavish stiletto I’d been stupid enough to wear, the heel in the other hand. “While I was waiting for you.”

The truth was I’d been pacing. On pebbled and clearly dangerous terrain. But he was late and I… Well, I hadn’t wanted to venture alone into the barn where tonight’s activity was taking place. Cameron Caldani wasn’t good company, but he was the lesser evil.

Cameron frowned. He frowned. Like he didn’t understand. The last thing I needed was attitude. “Don’t look at me like that,” I deadpanned.

“Like what?” He finally crossed the distance between us and stopped in front of me. His gaze dipped and stopped at my naked foot. He sighed. “Maybe if you weren’t parading around in those bloody things. But that’s nothing I haven’t told you before.”

“?‘In those bloody things’?” I was outraged on behalf of my shoes. “These are Manolo Blahniks.” His lips bent downward, as if the name didn’t ring any bell. I pushed the loose heel into my pocket and returned the remainder of the shoe to my foot. “Don’t pretend you don’t know how much these are worth. You lived in L.A. for years,” I told him, turning around. “And you even dated Jasmine Hill.” I started marching forward. “No one dates a fashion brand ambassador and comes out of that relationship unchanged. Not even someone who dresses in moss-green or boulder-gray technical pants most of the time.”

If Cameron thought anything about me knowing enough about his dating history to reference his only known relationship by name, he didn’t say. Good. I’d purposefully outed myself in order to make a point and obtain what I wanted: silence.

“Let me help you to the barn,” he said, suddenly there, right behind me. “You can’t even walk in that brokenBanana Tonic.”

So much for that silence. “I don’t need help. I’ll continue to parade, as you put it, and risk the consequences.”

A snicker left him.

I ignored it—and the way he hovered so close behind me—and limped the rest of the way to the barn. When we reached the entrance, his arm stuck out, that large palm pushing the wooden door open for me.

“Temper before age,” he murmured against my temple.

I tried to ignore that, too, but the wave of tingles his breath created on my skin made my will waver.

Someone squealed and before I could set a foot inside, I was being wrapped in a hug, squeezed, released, and then pulled into the barn.

“You’re finally here!” Josie exclaimed. “We were waiting for you two.”

“We were held up,” Cameron muttered. “By a ruined pair of Manolos.”

I shot him a glance. So he knew. He more than knew. Only people who did called them Manolos.

“Now, that’s just terrible,” Josie crooned, making me return my attention to her. I gawked for a moment, distracted by the yellow dungarees she wore. “Oh, honey, no. You can’t wear that for our pottery class. Tonight’s Muddy and Mighty, and it’s called that for a reason.”

“But my clothes are fine,” I countered, looking down at myself. “And I promise, the missing heel doesn’t even bother me that much.” It was the workout my calves didn’t need, but I’d suck it up and be on my tiptoes all night if I had to.

Josie linked one of her arms with mine, moving us forward. “I’m sure you can do about anything at any given time, you’re like our own Super-boss-lady.” That seemed like a stretch. “But I won’t let you ruin that beautiful blouse. Or pants. Not on top of the already fallen shoe. RIP.” Her head turned to look over her shoulder. “Cam, sweetheart, go join the group. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Sweetheart? My heel-less limb wobbled. How familiar were Cameron and Josie? And how—I didn’t care. They’d been friends before I got here. It wasn’t important.

Or any of my business.

Josie dragged me all the way to the far end of the barn and pushed me into some kind of changing room that consisted of two foldable screens before disappearing for an instant. When she was back, she shoved something in my hands with a smile. “Come out when you’re ready.”

I looked down.

It was overalls. Pink. And sneakers. Also pink.

I thought back to my growing pile of laundry. My fallen shoe.

Overalls it is.

“You look so cute,” Josie said when I rejoined the group. She gave me a once-over, her face brightening. “They look so much better on you than they do on me. You know what? You should keep them.”

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