endgame is to be president; you just need to figure out how to get there.”
“I have no such aspirations.”
I shook my head. I knew he was lying. Leaning forward, I grabbed the handlebars.
“Explain what you’re talking about,” he growled at me.
“Stop playing games,” I warned him.
“Why didn’t you go to school right after graduation?”
“There was a lack of funds to do so,” I quipped.
He nodded.
“And now you’re going to school and working at The Mission and Kingman’s.”
I leveled my gaze at him. “Why the interest?”
Clearing his throat, he looked down, then across the parking lot, and finally at me. “Are you still doing the other?”
Ah. The heart of the matter. He wanted to know if I was still whoring myself out.
I was going to hit him with both barrels, say the nastiest, worst thing I could think of, but it occurred to me that I had no leg to stand on. Even though I’d been there in the hotel the night before because Shawn needed a favor, the truth was, if Doug hadn’t been lamenting his ex and had been willing to pay me, I would have sold my body. It didn’t happen often anymore, and I had to rack my brain to remember the last time. But now, thinking about Cameron and what I wanted from him, and what, hopefully, he wanted from me, I realized it could never happen again. And it wasn’t as though in the past few years it had been a staple, not like it had between fourteen and twenty. I made good money at the restaurant, and even though Betty only paid me minimum wage at The Mission—her budget was tight for anyone without a master’s—I didn’t do that for the paycheck. I got to work with kids and get lots of real-world experience. There was nothing better than that.
“Sorry, that was crude. It’s none of my business what––”
“You’re right, it is none of your business, but since I was a whore the last time you saw me, it makes perfect sense.”
“No, that’s not what I––”
“It’s fine,” I assured him with a shrug. “You think what you want.”
“You’re not listening to me, and––”
“Shit.” It would have been damn hypocritical of me to be mad at Merrell Barrett for assuming I was the same person he’d left, especially since I’d driven to the city last night to do what he himself had once paid me for. The difference today was that after being in bed with Cameron Gallagher, I didn’t want to be in bed with anybody else.
“What?”
“Nothing. Sorry for biting your head off.”
I’d surprised him, judging by how oddly he was looking at me.
“But to answer your question, no,” I told him, and it felt good that it wasn’t a lie. “No more hustling for me.”
“Oh,” he replied. I couldn’t tell how he felt about that news.
“Anyway,” I said, beyond ready to wrap this up. “You should call Betty and ask if she can recommend someone for your project. I know she won’t want to leave The Mission, but I’m sure she can give you some names to––”
“I want you involved,” he almost yelled.
“Why?”
His gaze met mine and held.
I scoffed. “Tell me it’s not guilt.”
“What?” His voice got loud and defensive, so I more than had my answer.
“Yeah,” I stated, glaring at him. “Charity I do not need.”
“It’s not like that.”
“It’s exactly like that.” I started my bike. “Call Betty,” I yelled at him over the revving of the engine, and was out of the parking lot seconds later.
Heading for home, wind in my hair, I felt instantly better, calmer, and knew that going forward, however things shook out, Cameron Gallagher had already changed me. I was no longer a prostitute, never again, not ever, and somehow, leaving that behind settled something down deep. Going forward, the only men who got to touch me were the ones I wanted to kiss, and right now, there was only one of them on the whole damn planet.
6
Cameron
I wanted to call Jeremiah, but it was late, and keeping him awake didn’t seem kind. At least one of us should have been sleeping. I called my sister instead, checking in, and she replied that I didn’t need to come home. He truly was fine.
“I’m already in a rental car which I’m going to drop off at the airport as it’s the only place open. So I’m going to need you to pick me up in a couple of hours.”