Page 21 of Bad for Business (Pembroke Hills #2)

TWENTY-ONE

RYKER

“Oh my God. I’ve never been so happy to be on land,” Camille calls out, her heels clicking against the pavement.

I almost expect her to get on her knees and kiss the ground with how excited she is to be off the yacht.

“Is this a bad time to tell you that Mitchell asked me to go back out with them sometime soon?”

Camille’s steps still, and her eyes go wide as she looks at me.

I can’t help but think how adorable she looks right now.

She ended up having two martinis, and it’s obvious she’s a little tipsy.

This version of her is one I wasn’t expecting to see today, but I can’t deny that I’m enjoying it.

Her tongue isn’t as sharp, and her guard isn’t up.

I like seeing this side of her…the side that doesn’t pretend to hate me.

“I’m joking,” I speak up, trying not to smile at how cute she looks. Her plump lips are parted, and her aquamarine eyes are aimed right at me. Her cheeks are pink from the alcohol, and she keeps swaying ever so slightly on her heels.

Her shoulders sag in relief. “I’m not getting on a boat again while we’re here. If there are more yacht outings, count me out.”

I whistle, quickly grabbing onto her elbow when she leans a little too far to the left. “Are you saying you’d allow me to do something on my own?” I ask in shock.

I try to ignore the warmth of her skin underneath mine, but I don’t let go, and she uses the opportunity to pop one heel off, then the other, until her bare feet are on the pavement and her heels are in her hand.

As I wait for her answer, I reach my free hand out, my fingers wiggling as a silent demand.

She looks down at my awaiting hand for a moment, a tiny frown appearing on her lips.

“Let me hold them for you,” I request, pushing my hand a little closer to her.

She shrugs and hands them over. It turns out that a tipsy Camille is a little more willing to listen than a sober one.

“Fine. But you have to give them back before we go inside to the club.”

I laugh. “We aren’t going inside.”

She frowns, and fuck …I swear it makes my stomach flip.

“We have more work to do,” she begins, her words coming out hurriedly.

I slide my arm through hers and begin to walk, wanting to make sure I help support her as we go to the car. Without the heels, she’s a little more steady on her feet, but I don’t want to risk her falling, so I keep our arms intertwined.

“We did plenty today. You will hate me even more if I let you go into Pembroke and talk to people after you chugged two martinis.”

She lets out a little gasp. “I didn’t chug them.”

I shake my head and laugh. I’ll never forget being mid-conversation with Mitchell Bailey and looking over to Camille tossing back a martini like it was a shot. “Whatever you say,” I tell her, knowing there’s no use in arguing. “Just not trying to get any more on your bad side than I already am.”

“Who said you’re on my bad side?” she asks.

Her question takes me by surprise. I stop, forcing her to stop, too, since our arms are still interlocked. I look over at her, positive she’s got to see the shock written all over my face.

“You’re joking, right?” I ask, my eyes searching hers. “You act like I’m the bane of your existence and that I’m the last person on this Earth you’d want to be spending the summer with.”

Camille smiles. It’s a real smile. And damn…my stomach does that flip again.

“ You act that way,” she points out, avoiding my question completely.

My jaw clenches as I think about how much I want to tell her that I don’t want to act that way.

When she walked into her father’s office, I was excited to see her.

It was only when she equated the night we shared to meaning nothing and acted like I was the last person she wanted to work with that my walls came up.

It’s at the tip of my tongue to ask how she really feels about me.

I want to ask her why she left that morning.

I want to know how she can act like the night wasn’t special.

She made me feel things I’ve never felt for anyone else before.

Being with her just felt right. They felt easy.

And it hurt for me to walk into my room and find my bed empty the next morning.

What hurt worse was having the bit of hope of seeing her again, thinking that maybe it was a misunderstanding and she’d be excited to see me, be obliterated with one word.

She wasn’t excited to see me. She called me a mistake. And here we are.

“What are you thinking about?” Camille asks.

I might be making it up, and it might be all in my head, but I swear her gaze moves to my lips for a fraction of a second.

I can’t help it. An intense urge—no, a need —to kiss her overtakes me. I fight it with all I have. She’s tipsy, and it’s just the memories of our New Year’s Eve together that are getting to my head.

I can’t kiss her, and I don’t know if I want to know the answers to my questions.

It’s obvious that my attempts at getting rid of her won’t work.

I have to accept that we’ll be spending the summer together.

It’s probably best for me to not know why she left that morning.

At least then, maybe we can tolerate each other enough to get the job done this summer.

With a sigh, I pull my gaze from her and lead us to Pembroke’s parking lot. “Don’t worry about it,” I finally answer.

I half expect Camille to push me with more questions, but she doesn’t. She lets me lead her to the parking lot and doesn’t protest once. She doesn’t say a word until I’m trying to help her into the passenger seat of the SUV.

“I’ve got it,” she grumbles, swatting my hand away as I try to help her into the seat.

“You’re just a little unsteady right now,” I point out. We managed to make it to the parking lot with no one spotting us, which is a good thing because I know Camille would be mortified if we ran into anyone she knew after drinking two martinis and spending the afternoon in the sun.

“I’m fine. I don’t even feel like I had a drink.” She leans forward, her face getting all too close to mine. “Maybe it’s you who’s unsteady.”

I smile at her slightly slurred words. I try not to look at her lips, but it’s incredibly hard not to with her leaning in so close. “I had one drink in the very beginning. I’m fine, princess.”

“Why do you keep calling me princess?” she immediately asks.

I know I should close the door and get in the driver’s seat and put space between us, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Not right now. Not yet.

“Because you act like one,” I answer.

Her bottom lip juts out. “I don’t think I act like a princess.”

I reach for the seat belt, being careful as I tug it over her body. On accident, my knuckles just barely brush over her breasts as I reach for the buckle. Her chest hitches at the small amount of contact between us.

Fuck.

I hurriedly straighten and slam the passenger door before I can do something stupid. What’s wrong with me today? I can’t think straight, and I can’t even blame it on drinking too much. Maybe it was too much time spent in the sun.

It’s quiet as I open the driver’s side door and slip into the seat. Neither one of us says anything, something I’m thankful for. My head is too jumbled with thoughts of her to hold a conversation.

I’m spending too much time with her. That’s got to be the reason I’m still having thoughts of kissing her after she’s made her thoughts about me well-known.

We’re almost to the house when I feel Camille’s gaze against my cheek. I risk a glance over at her, shocked to find her smiling.

I lift an eyebrow, my own smile blooming on my lips because I’m just not used to seeing her smile so freely.

“Hey, Ryker?” Her voice has a softness to it that I’m not used to.

“Yes?”

“I know we’re almost home, but…” She pauses for a moment, and she does something that takes me by surprise.

Camille giggles.

An actual fucking giggle.

And the feeling is no longer a flip of my stomach. It’s a punch to the gut. A hand squeezing my heart. I feel that fucking giggle throughout my entire body.

My throat feels dry, and the beat of my heart increases. My body and my emotions are at war with each other. I love the sound of her giggle. God, I love it so much I want to hear it again. But I hate that something so simple as hearing her laugh can have such an effect on me.

“But?” I prod, wondering if she’ll give me the luxury of hearing her laugh like that again. Even though I’m not sure if it's something I want to experience again or not.

I pull up to the front gate of the house and put the SUV in park. I look over at her, waiting to type the code into the keypad until she finishes her thought.

“I’m starving,” she admits with a smile.

“Want me to make you something inside?”

Her mouth falls open. “You cook?” She doesn’t even bother to hide her shock.

I give her a nonchalant shrug. “I’m not the best, but I can make something decent. Lizzie might’ve also left some extra food for us. We can check.”

Lizzie is my family’s private chef. My mom hired her years ago, and her meals are incredible.

This summer, her schedule is more open than it typically is because it’s only me and Camille here, and we opt to go to the club most days, but she still comes by often and keeps the fridge stocked with prepped meals and snacks.

Camille bites her lip. I watch her do it, for a moment wishing it was my teeth pulling that plump bottom lip into my own mouth.

“As much as I want to see you cook, I have something else in mind. I want to go back out and get food. A burger.” She gasps before sitting up in her seat.

“Or maybe a taco.” A little groan escapes her lips as she sits back.

Her eyes find mine. “I can’t decide. But can we go back out and get something? ”

I’d do anything she asked of me right now.

I don’t tell her that. All I do is put the SUV in reverse and back out of the driveway.

Who knows how she’ll act in the morning.

She might go back to hating me. Or maybe she won’t.

Maybe things will be different between us in the morning.

Either way, I’m going to soak in this version of Camille while I have her.

“Sure,” I finally answer her. “Whatever you want, princess.”