Page 25 of The Loneliest Number
“The back of seven.”
“What does that mean?” I say as I sit up, stretching my arms out. There’s a delicious ache between my thighs. A sign of an evening well spent.
“Just after seven am. I need to head off in a bit. I’ve got a breakfast meeting. But you can stay as long as you like. There’s no rush to get up.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll leave with you,” I tell him as I crawl across the wide bed. I grimace as I realise I was well and truly on ‘his side’ even with the ginormous size. I glance around and locate my clothes, gathering them up before heading to the bathroom. I can shower at my place, so I do my business, then run my fingers through my hair and splash some water on my face before getting dressed.
I step out of the bathroom, and Cam’s still laid out on the bed, the sheet pulled up over his hips. He watches me with a smirk as I walk back towards him.
“There’s something I want to talk to you about before you leave,” he says, patting the bed for me to sit.
“That sounds ominous.” My face pulls in a grimace as I perch a hip on the edge, facing him.
“It’s not. I just really appreciate you sharing your name with me last night.”
I struggle to meet his gaze as a blush creeps up my cheeks. I have done filthy things with this man, and yet, it’s the openness and intimacy that have me embarrassed. Am I broken?
“I want to be open with you, too. I don’t know why I didn’t just tell you yesterday. I’m still getting used to it, I guess. It’s a massive project, and it just came out of the blue.” He trails off as he twists the sheet in his hands, eyes down, but they come up to meet mine before he carries on, “I own The Juniper. She’s mine.”
“Oh.” A weight drops low in my stomach, goosebumps break out on my forearms, and I try to swipe them away with my hands. Somehow, I’d reconciled the fact that he was working there. It gave me an in to be nosy about this building I’ve fallen for and to keep track of progress. Ownership means something else completely; it threatens my home at The Thirst Trap.
“I thought you were a stonemason?” I speak in a quiet tone, even though my blood is thundering.
He rubs a hand across his bearded jaw. “I’m trained as a stonemason. My grandpa trained me. But it’s more of a side interest these days. My main focus is project managing renovations of buildings like The Juniper.”
“You’ve done this before?”
“A few times, mostly up in Glasgow. And usually for other people. This is the first building I’ve solely owned. And it’s really fucking scary.” He grimaces.
“What do you mean, scary?” I ask. “And why here? Why The Juniper?”
“I inherited it from my grandmother and I’m feeling the pressure to not fuck this up. I didn’t know of its existence until recently. It was a few weeks after we first met actually.” A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “Strange coincidence, right? My grandmother owned a building that no-one in the family knew about. And it’s something of a mystery how she came by it. Then she bequeathed it to me. And it brings me practically to your doorstop.”
I snort. “What? Like fate?”
“I don’t know. I was just so taken with seeing you again, and you were still a mystery to me. There’s been a lot of mysteries in my life lately.” His brows knit together in a fierce frown.
“So you were holding back because I was holding out on you?”
He lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “Not as a conscious decision, but maybe, yeah. I knew nothing about you, other than the amazing chemistry we had that night in Glasgow with Saff.”
Where the fuck do I go from here? I wasn’t completely open with him, withholding my real name until it spilled out last night, so it would be hypocritical of me to judge him for holding something back. But spending time with him feels like a betrayal to Tom and everyone else at The Thirst Trap.
“I need to head off,” I tell him. I need space to think about it.
“That’s it? Are we okay?”
“It’s fine, Cam. We had a fun night. In Glasgow and again last night. We don’t owe each other anything, and you said you’ve got a meeting to get to.” I keep my tone breezy, trying to ignore the look of hurt clouding his eyes.
“When can I see you again?” he asks.
I pause, unsure how to answer. I’m not usually one for repeats. Yes, we did have a lot of fun, but my loyalty to Tom and the bar has to come first, right?
“Text me when you need to get laid and I’ll think about it.” That’ll give me a chance to get my head around it all.
“That’s going to be tonight.” His tone is matter-of-fact as if his wanting me is a foregone conclusion.
“I don’t do the regular thing. You might need to find yourself someone steadier.” I stand and slip my hand into my pockets, rocking back on my heels.
