Page 22 of The Wedding Gift
Granny had damn sure been right when she said the redhead could hold her own. She’d be a force to deal with for sure, but after ten years of bartending, Cameron figured he’d seen about everything. One curvy, feisty little lady didn’t scare him, not unless she was pointing a pistol at his chest, anyway.
Chapter 2
Jorja whipped the eggs in her bowl as if she were trying to beat them to death, but then she was still fuming inside at her grandparents and Merle for putting her in this situation. Not only was she going to have to share the Honky Tonk with the sexiest cowboy she’d ever seen, but their beds were going to be only ten feet apart.
She glanced over at him in time to see one little jet-black curl escape his otherwise perfectly cut hair and come to rest on his forehead. When she finished with the bacon, he reached across to her side of the grill and started to pick the package up, but she slapped his wrist.
“What’s that for?” he asked.
“I’m not finished with that,” she informed him.
“You’ve got half a pound on the grill,” he said. “How much are you planning to eat?”
“Two more slices, and the package only weighs ten ounces, so half of that is five ounces, which is a far cry from eight. Don’t judge me. I like bacon.”Does he think I'm fat and shouldn’t be eating so much?she wondered. The aroma of frying bacon filling the air made her stomach grumble, so she added another egg to her bowl.
“Besides, if you’d have been here earlier and helped me clean up that room, you would have worked up an appetite too.” She peeled off two more slices of bacon, laid them out on the grill, and then handed what was left of the package over to Cameron. He damn sure didn’t look like any Cameron she’d ever known, with those brooding brown eyes and that jet-black hair. His name should have been River or Creed, something totally masculine, certainly not a name like Cameron that could belong to either a man or a woman.
“I take it from your attitude and the smudge of something gray on your forehead that it did not smell all clean and nice when you arrived.” He grinned.
He had one of those thousand-watt smiles that reminded her of a used-car salesman. He could probably sell a forty-dollar shot of whiskey to a poor old cowboy who had to count out his last pennies to buy the drink. Eli Smith had fooled her with a smile just like that five years ago, and she had promised herself that she would never be duped again.Her heart had been broken into too many pieces to ever be put back together.
She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. “There were dust bunnies as big as baby elephants in there, and a dead mouse under your bed. I should have left your side of the place for you to clean.”
“But you didn’t because you thought I was a female, and you were trying to start off on the right foot.”
If his smile got any bigger, she would have to drag out her sunglasses. “I figured if I left your side, then you’d stir up all the dust that I left, and it would float back over to my part of the apartment.”
“I suppose I owe you a thank-you.” He flipped his bacon over so it would get crisp on both sides.
“No, you owe me more than that,” she told him, “and I will collect someday.”
A dozen ways to make him pay came to mind. The first and foremost was to make him drag the mattress off his bed and sleep out in the bar rather than in the apartment with her. That would make him think she was afraid of him and give him power over her. After Eli, there was no way in heaven, hell, or on earth that a man would ever again have that kind of control in her life.
“Just tell me when, darlin’,” he drawled.
“I’m not your darling and never will be. We are partners and roommates, and that’s where it ends.” She shook a fork at him.
“Yes, ma’am, but I’m wonderin’ how we’re going to manage it when I pick up a bar bunny for the night. Do I hang a towel on the knob or what?” His grin was enough to cause a sworn Sister of Mercy to hyperventilate.
Her hands began to sweat, and heat crawled up her neck all the way to her cheeks at the vision that popped into her head—he was naked and tangled up in the sheets on his twin bed. She dropped the fork, tried to catch it before it hit his foot, but failed.
“Good thing I didn’t kick my boots off before we came in here.” He bent over to retrieve the fork, and she got a full view of his butt in tight jeans. She was way too young for menopausal hot flashes, but right then, she sure could have used one of those church fans with Jesus on one side and that psalm about lying down in green pastures on the other.
When she thought of that, another picture of Cameron wiggled its way into her mind. He was lying beside her on a quilt with pretty green grass all around them. She could hear the quiet sound of a bubbling brook nearby.
That’s close to sacrilege, a niggling little voice in her head said loudly. She shook the image from her mind and concentrated on finishing her breakfast.
When everything was done to her satisfaction, she put it all on a platter and set it on the bar. Careful not to brush against Cameron on her way around to the other side, she gave the swinging gate a shove and thought she was doing well until it stuck. She lost momentum and started to fall, then two strong arms caught her and set her upright.
“Now we’re even,” Cameron said.
With both hands on the edge of the bar and adrenaline still rushing through her veins, she shot him a look of appreciation. “Thank you, but how come you think we’re even?”
He shrugged. “You cleaned our apartment. I saved your life.”
“I almost fell, but I didn’t almost die,” she smarted off.
“If you’d have hit your head on this hard floor, you might have died,” he answered. “Or worse yet, had brain damage and couldn’t help me run this place. Cleaning the apartment is a small price to pay for your life, darlin’… I mean Miz Jorja.”