Page 50 of Wild As Her
I don’t even have to look. I know who it is. I can always feel her when she’s near me. Like it or not, we’ve always had that connection.
“Well, well, well,” Cami drawls, stepping inside like she owns the place, hands on her hips, eyes full of mischief. “Big, tough Jack Jessop, hiding out in his own barn. This is better than I could’ve ever dreamed.”
I glance over, scowling. “Shouldn’t you be making coffee instead of stalking me?”
She grins, leaning against the stall like she’s settling in for a good show. “Oh, I shut the trailer down early. We sold out of everything again, and I figured I couldn’t miss watching you meet your potential wives.”
“Wife,” I exhale, rubbing my temples. “What kind of show do you think this is? And you’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“I doubt one woman is going to be able to put up with you, let alone multiple,” she says dryly.
“Are you judging me or taking notes? I know you want the title of Mrs. Jessop,” I tease.
Cami tilts her head ignoring my teasing, pretending to think. “Oh, I’m enjoying this. Let me see, cameras everywhere, a bunch of women competing for your love, and you looking like you’d rather be trampled by a bull? Yeah, Jack. I’m having the time of my life.”
I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I hate you.”
She gasps, pressing a hand to her chest. “You don’t mean that.”
I lift a brow. “I absolutely mean that.”
Cami grins wider, eyes sparkling. “You know, I could go out there and tell them where you’re hiding…”
I stiffen immediately. “You wouldn’t.”
She smirks. “Wouldn’t I?”
I stare at her. She absolutely would.
Cami spins on her heel, heading toward the barn door. “Guess I’ll just let Jenna know?—”
I lunge forward, grabbing her by the waist and hauling her back, holding her tight against my chest, feeling her warmth. God, she feels good.
“Nope,” I clip. The second my arms wrap around her waist, everything shifts. One moment, I’m desperate to keep her from ratting me out to a horde of reality TV contestants and cameras, and the next?
I’m just holding her. And I don’t let go. And that’s a problem. Because Cami feels way too damn good in my arms. She’s warm, soft, and laughing like this is the best thing that’s ever happened to her.
She wiggles against mine, just enough to make me painfully aware of every place her body touches mine. And damn it all, she smells like coffee and something sweet like vanilla, maybe.
I tell myself I should let go.
I should focus on the real issue here, which is escaping my own personal TV show nightmare. But my hands? They stay. Because for a few dangerous seconds, I don’t care about the cameras. Or the contestants. Or the fact that my “future wife” is apparently waiting for me outside.
I care about how Cami fits against me, like she’s always belonged here. So I do the only thing I can, I drop my forehead onto her shoulder, groaning like a man on the verge of losing his damn mind. "Kill me now."
Cami pats my arm, completely oblivious to the crisis happening in my chest.
“Nope, sorry,” she says way too cheerfully. “You have so much suffering ahead of you to lookforward to.”
And that’s when reality slams back into me. I’m not supposed to be thinking about Cami like this or touching her. I’m supposed to be out there, smiling for the cameras, entertaining the idea of finding a wife.
Not standing in a damn barn, holding the one woman who’s been in my heart since I was too young to understand what that even meant.
I let go of her like she’s burning me. She doesn’t move. She stays like she’s enjoying it, too. And as I force myself to walk away, to step into the circus waiting outside, I already know no one on this reality show is gonna hold a damn candle to Cami.
And that’s the real problem. Cami gives me one last smirk, full of delight and devoid of sympathy.
And as I walk toward the cameras, ready to meet my doom, I hear her call out,
