Bang (Blast Brothers #2) - Sabrina Stark Page 0,55
lose control.
When she returned from her vacation, it was more of the same. She was friendly during the day and avoided me at night.
It used to be, she'd spend her nighttime hours in the living areas, scrolling through her phone or reading on her tablet. Now, I didn't know what she was doing. I just knew she was doing it in her own private space, away from me.
And it was driving me batshit crazy.
Forget the sex. I missed seeing her around. I missed talking to her. I missed the way she challenged me when no one else would.
She wasn't anymore. Something had changed – and not for the better.
I let it go for maybe another week before deciding it was time to get some answers – for Willow's sake if not my own. If Cami was planning to make a move, I had to know.
That night, after Willow went to bed, I caught up with Cami in the upstairs hallway and said, "We need to talk."
From the look on her face, this wasn't what she wanted to hear. "About what?"
I gave her a look. "Guess."
"No."
This wasn't a word I was used to hearing. "What do you mean, no?"
"I mean no, I won't guess." She gave Willow's closed bedroom door a quick glance before adding in a hushed tone, "If you want to talk about something, just tell me what it is."
Cami was smart. She had to know what I wanted to discuss. But hey, if she wanted it spelled out, that was fine by me. "Alright," I said. "I want to talk about what happened."
"What do you mean?"
Now I, too, lowered my voice. "I mean, what happened between us."
"Oh." She frowned. "What about it?"
This should've been obvious. But I didn't want to be a dick about it, so for the first time in my adult life, I asked, "Are you mad about something?"
"You mean at you?"
I shrugged. "Sure, why not?"
With a shrug of her own, she said, "Alright. Then the answer's no."
I studied her face. "Bull."
In a low whisper, she said, "I'm not lying, so just let it go, alright?"
Let it go.
It was good advice. I knew this because I'd given this same advice to plenty of people over the years. Some had taken it. Some hadn't.
As far as those who hadn't, I never saw the point. Until now.
I replied, "I'll let it go when you tell me what's wrong."
"Why does something have to be wrong?" she asked.
"You tell me."
"Well maybe I'm just tired. Did you ever think of that?" She paused. "In fact…" She glanced toward her bedroom door. "Let's just say goodnight, alright?"
Now I was the one frowning. It wasn't even nine o'clock. I'd been living with Cami for months now, and had become familiar with her schedule. Her normal bedtime was still a few hours away.
I told her, "We can say goodnight after we talk."
Her mouth tightened. "Are you saying that as my employer? Or as something else?"
"I'm saying it as both," I said. "If something's up, I need to know."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah. For Willow's sake."
She crossed her arms. "Now who's full of it?"
"Meaning?"
"Meaning you're not asking for Willow. You're asking for yourself."
She was only half right. Still, in the spirit of meeting her in the middle, I said, "Fair enough. But we will be talking."
She was silent for a long moment before saying, "You know what? That's probably an excellent idea. But not here."
On this, she'd get no argument from me. "Agreed."
If things were different, I might've suggested talking in my bedroom – for convenience if nothing else. The master bedroom was only a few paces away and insulated for sound.
But I was no fool. If Cami wanted to spend time in my bedroom, she wouldn't have spent the past few weeks hiding out in her own.
I flicked my head toward the stairway. "We can talk in my office."
Her chin lifted. "No."
I froze. There was that word again. "No?"
"We can talk out on the patio."
I didn't get it. My house was huge with plenty of places to talk in private. If she objected to my office, there was always the family room, the workout room, or hell even the basement if she wanted to put some serious distance between us and Willow.
So why the patio?
Maybe she wasn't thinking. But I was. She was wearing jeans and a little black T-shirt. With a pointed look at her bare arms, I said, "Outside? It's cold as hell."
With a tight smile, she said, "Isn't hell supposed to be hot?"