my life, only with him—was I inexplicably fearless. It had started with inviting him into my room, and as far as I could tell, there was no end in sight to what I wanted from him and what I wasn’t afraid to ask for.
“I’m going to be back in Sacramento next week, starting Monday, so I thought perhaps you would invite me to stay with you.”
“You’re too good for my apartment. I think the entire thing could fit in your office.”
“Let me stay at your apartment,” I prodded, “or you’ll have to stay with me at a hotel, and that won’t be nearly as nice.”
“You’ve never seen my apartment,” he groaned. “A hotel is a much better idea.”
“That’s absurd.”
“It’s really not.”
“I’m certain it’s charming,” I defended his as-yet-unseen domicile.
“You would be mistaken.”
“I suspect this has less to do with the state of your home and far more to do with the fact that you don’t want me in it,” I passed judgment. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“It’s not a home in any sense. It’s a place where I shower. That’s my point.”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean it’s nothing. It doesn’t say anything about me at all.”
“Is it clean?”
“Of course it’s clean.” He was indignant.
“Do you have big scary bugs?”
“Have you lost your––”
“Mold?”
“Did you just say mold?”
“Oh God, do you have black mold?”
“I—what?”
“No locks on your doors?”
“I’ll have you know my apartment is probably the safest one in the––”
“I want to stay with you, Mr. Wolfe, so I can sleep with you at night when you come home from work.” The breath he took, and the slight shiver, made me smile like a crazy person. “So let me stay with you. I’ll call you Monday from the road and you can give me directions to where you are.”
“That sounds like a deal.”
And of course, at that moment, I had a horrible feeling I was overstepping and being pushy, and perhaps he was just being nice, but what he really wanted was to run.
“What’s with the face?”
I tensed for what he would say. “Am I being pushy or overbearing or––”
“You’re being interested,” he answered, not taking his gaze from mine. “In me. Nobody is ever interested in me, so that’s pretty amazing.”
“I find that impossible to believe.”
“Guys want other guys with jobs like yours, with financial portfolios like yours, and to be picked up in nice cars and taken home to houses that look like yours. I’m not the ideal, Cameron Gallagher, you are.”
“Someone should’ve informed the men I’ve dated.”
“Oh yeah?”
“People run from me.”
He squinted at me. “You think maybe it’s the scheduling?”
I fake laughed. “Such a funny man. I bet you could do stand-up.”
His laughter, real and a bit relieved, made me sigh.
“This is ridiculous, but I missed you last night and today. I so wished you were here with me to see my father.”
“That’s pretty much the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“It is not.”
“Uh, yes it is,” he replied, taking a breath. “You want me there with your family? Jesus, Cam, are you sure you have the right guy?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
His smile was huge as he looked at the ceiling for a moment and then back at me. “I gotta tell you somethin’.”
“Please do.”
“Do you do it on purpose?”
“Do I do what on purpose?”
“Make your voice all soft and low and husky like that?”
I chuckled, because how interesting.
“What’s funny?”
Clearing my throat, I met his gaze. “All my life people have said, ‘Speak up, Cameron, talk louder.’ Even my family. Everyone says they can’t tell if I’m excited or not because my tone never changes.”
His grin was carnal. “Well, I can say with absolute certainty that your voice changes when you’re excited.”
My face felt like it was on fire.
“That’s a very pretty shade of pink.”
“Oh God,” I groaned, terribly embarrassed.
“Don’t look away.”
It took a lot for me to lock eyes with him.
“I’m addicted to the sound of your voice. I can make out every word, even when you speak under your breath. It’s awful, and I’m working on it, but since I’ve been yelled at all my life, when people raise their voices, I go instantly into fix-it mode at work, or fight mode when I’m anywhere else. I can’t help it. I’m angry and hostile, and I can’t be different. Not yet.”
“And you’re working on that? With a therapist?”
“No, I don’t have a—you know, it’s me, myself, and I.”
“I see. Have you thought about seeing a therapist?”