I frown. Oh God, please don’t let it be jumping out of a plane or some extreme bullshit. “What’s that?”
He points at me. “We’re going to go out to breakfast and then I am taking you to the New York Library.”
“Huh?”
He widens his eyes in excitement and turns the television on. “Do you want a cup of tea?” he asks chirpily.
I watch him for a moment. He’s super energised while I feel like a complete train wreck.
“You weren’t tipping those drinks of yours into pot plants last night, were you?” I ask dryly.
He laughs and crawls over the bed on his hands and knees to pin me beneath him. “Not feeling so good today, huh?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“You shouldn’t have drunk so much,” he murmurs against my stomach as he bends to kiss me.
“It was the company I was keeping. Peer pressure.”
He bends and bites my hipbone and I squirm underneath him. “Perk up, old girl, we have a full itinerary.”
I close my eyes as a wave of nausea rolls through me. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
We walk into the library hand in hand and Cameron smiles like the cat that got the cream.
“What’s wrong with you? You’re acting creepy.” I smirk.
He winks. “I am creepy.” He walks up to the reception desk. “Hello, I want to search for some records. How do I do that?” he asks the lady.
“Just go to computer twenty-two, type into the search bar what records you are looking up, and it will search for you.”
“Thank you.” He smiles and we walk to the station where all the computers are.
“What are we doing here?” I frown as I look around at all the people reading intently as I drop into the seat next to him. “Is this part of your brain power plan?” I ask as I rub my hand up his muscular thigh. I smile. I like being able to touch him whenever I want to.
“You’ll see.” We’ve just been out for breakfast where we sat in the sun in a park and read the morning newspapers.
It was unfussed and easy, and God, I don’t want it to ever end. He makes me feel so alive and so… I don’t even know the right word to describe it.
Complete?
He types in a few things and frowns. I take the opportunity to look around. “What are you looking for?” I whisper.
This is annoying. He’s wasting my date time in a frigging library.
“Have some patience, woman,” he replies, distracted.
I roll my eyes, sit back in my chair, and fold my arms. Come to think of it, I’m hungry again or is just that the hangover reappearing?
I don’t know, but I think I need cake. “Can we have cake and coffee when we finish?” I ask.
“The only cake you will be eating is cream pie,” he murmurs with a raised brow.
I lean in. “You’re a sex maniac, Stanton.”
“I know,” he replies casually as he concentrates.
“I want banoffee pie,” I whisper.
He smirks and keeps typing. “You’re going to look like a banoffee pie soon.”
I giggle. “Lucky, I’m going out with a sex maniac who will like me anyway.”
“True. I prefer cream pie to banoffee, though.” He smirks, distracted.
I roll my eyes. “We already established that, Einstein. This isn’t helping your brain power score.”
He grins. “I’m trying to raise another score out here.” He stands abruptly. “Switch seats with me.”
I frown up at him before I switch seats.
He points to the screen and I focus on what I’m meant to be looking at. “Huh? What’s this?” I ask.
“Classifieds.”
I look over at him. “Why am I looking at old classifieds?”
He widens his eyes in exasperation. “Just read them.”
“Fine,” I breathe, half annoyed. Why the hell we are wasting time here, I have no idea.
I read down the list and then at the bottom I see it.
To the betting man’s wife who
works in an ice cream shop.
We met in Vegas last weekend when you needed a stand in husband.
I lost my phone.
Je n'ai aucun moyen de vous contacter.
Translation: I have no way of finding you.
Wer auch immer eine Wette gewinnt, mag niemals dasselbe sein.
Translation: Whoever wins a bet to you, may never be the same.
I’m in New York looking for you.
Appelle-moin.
Translation: Call me.
0423788900
Oh my God. My eyes rise to search his. “You did try to find me?”
He smiles softly. “I told you I did.”
I look back to the computer and read it again so I know I’m not imagining this.
Nope. It’s definitely still there.
“Cam,” I whisper, and for some reason I