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“No idea about what?”

“How gorgeous you are.”

I don’t know what to say. It’s absurd, a man who looks like him, calling me gorgeous.

It must just be his nature to flatter women. He has to always be the most charming man around, charming my daughter, the dog.

“You’re beautiful, Stella?—”

All of a sudden, I’m jerked off balance. I quickly regain my footing and see the rabbit that’s standing as still as a statue, just a few feet beyond the end of Goldfish’s leash, which is straining as the dog tries to reach the rabbit.

Goldfish barks once, and the rabbit suddenly runs to the left, but then just as quickly darts back toward the right, once it’s beyond the spot where Cam and I are standing.

In Goldfish’s attempt to follow this zigzag action, the dog ends up wrapping the leash around one of Cam’s feet and both of mine, effectively tying us together.

“Goldfish, stop!”

The rabbit flees down the road and into someone’s yard, and Goldfish tries to go after it, taking up all the leash’s slack.

When I bend to attempt to unwrap the leash from my ankles, I lose my balance and start to fall, but Cam is quicker, catching me in his strong arms before that can happen. He saves me from injury, just like he did when I was almost run over in the grocery store.

I’m not typically accident-prone, so it’s bizarre that both times recently that I’ve almost been knocked over, Cam has been there to catch me. It’s like the universe is trying to push us together.

In the grocery store that morning, he released me right away, but tonight, he’s much slower to let go. In fact, he pulls me closer, his arms encircling me, pressing my back against his firm chest. “I’ve got you.”

I’m afraid he does, in more ways than he knows.

All the time I’ve spent avoiding Cam and Wyatt hasn’t helped a bit. Even though Cam keeps preventing me from hitting the ground, it’s clear that I’m starting to fall hard.

CHAPTER18

CAM

Stella feels so right in my arms. I didn’t lie. She’s gorgeous, but there are plenty of other beautiful women in the world.

There’s something special about this woman, though. Something that makes me want to keep holding her.

Her dog is still pulling at his leash, and I’m afraid it’s going to cut into Stella’s ankles. Reluctantly, I take one hand off of her so I can free her feet.

When I bend down, she rests her weight against my back to keep herself steady, and the gesture does something to me. Her needing my support, and relying on my strength, makes me feel like I’ve got purpose—like she needs me—and I could get used to feeling like this.

These kinds of thoughts probably make me some sort of caveman, but I can’t help it.

In a low-volume yell that’s respectful of the late hour, Stella calls for Goldfish, and tugs gently at the leash to urge him to give up the chase.

I join in the effort, crouching down and calling for him to come back, and after one final bark in the rabbit’s direction, he returns for more ear rubs.

“He really likes you,” Stella says.

“I’m very likeable.”

The smile she gives me tells me she’s starting to agree, but she says, “It’s getting late. I’d better get back home.”

“I’ll walk with you.”

“But you were jogging. I don’t want to interrupt your run more than I already have.”

“I’ll jog home after I drop you off. Unless you’d rather walk alone?” I’d like to think I’m pretty good at reading signals, but I don’t want to force my company on her if she doesn’t want it.