thought mattresses only got cut open in the movies.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“And the pictures they showed you, did anyone look familiar?”
“No, but like I told them, between school and working at Kingman’s, I see so many people, and I’m not one of those ‘I never forget a face’ types. Kids I work with, coworkers, yeah, of course those are locked into my memory, but I don’t usually remember faces I don’t see on a regular basis.”
I smiled at him. He appeared exhausted, but somehow better than he had at the beginning of the call. “So…Thanksgiving?”
“You’re serious?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I just told you I’m in the middle of an investigation.”
“That can’t be a thing,” he replied, but I saw the twitch of his lip, as though he was trying not to smile.
“Say yes to me.”
“Listen, if––”
“You lied to me when I asked you if you were a hustler, because you saw an opportunity to get paid. Little did you know I was going to fall asleep on you, literally, and not give you a dime.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he murmured, and his smile made me wish I could reach through the screen and touch him. I needed to be back within touching distance, sooner rather than later.
Beautiful man, inside and out, and I wanted to lock down plans with him. “Come on, tell me you’ll come for Thanksgiving.”
“Only if I get to see you before. I refuse to have your parents thinkin’ I’m some perv you picked up who can’t keep their hands and mouth off you.”
“Oh?” I whispered. “You want to touch me and kiss me?”
I’d missed when his eyes had turned molten, but I saw them now, dark and wet and hot.
“Yes, Cam, I wanna be all over you.”
My moan was filthy and needy. “You swear?”
“I swear.”
“I will collect, you know.”
“I’m counting on it.”
And I could hardly wait.
I was in a daze after talking to Jeremiah. When I got back to my father’s room, my mother told me to go home; she was staying overnight with him. And I’d been a trooper, but I needed to take a shower and check on my house.
“You’re starting to smell,” she informed me.
I kissed and hugged my folks—we all did—and grabbed my suitcase. With our mother watching over our father, we left to get some rest. Downstairs, I waved off everyone’s offer for a ride home. I could get a cab. They all lived in Palo Alto, I was the only one in Pacifica, so they didn’t argue much.
In the cab I checked my email, followed up with the Rauch Group, and assured them I would be back in Sacramento the following week. Mrs. Nichols answered me back, telling me she appreciated it and that they were holding off their meetings with Lass until my return.
The cab dropped me off in front of my house, and I took a minute to admire my terraced front yard, impressed with what Cody, Mike, and I had been able to do in a weekend. There were three distinct beds outlined with large rocks on each side of the steps leading up to the front door. There was a small porch to the left that I needed some furniture for, even though I never sat out there. My sister had suggested plants, but with all the traveling I did, I worried about coming home to death and decay and zero curb appeal.
Once inside, I locked the door behind me, flipped on the lights, and punched in the code to disarm the alarm. It looked the same as it had when I left, nothing out of place in my renovated two-bedroom, one-and-a-half-bath bungalow. Built in the 1950s, it had not been pretty when I bought it, but it had good bones, and I was two blocks away from the ocean. That alone was worth all the work that had gone into making it my sanctuary. I’d had a choice between my house and one on the hill with views of the ocean and coastal valley, but when the realtor said I could walk to the beach, I was sold. Nothing was quite as calming and serene as sitting in the sand on a cold day, listening to the seagulls as the waves pounded the shore. And I loved the fireplace and the large windows I could slide open to let in