Page 5 of Below the Surface

Cameron nods as she takes a seat on the barstool beside me. “Sorry. I’m out of practice.”

“Out of practice?”

She nods again. She’s adorable. “Would that be with speaking or sitting?” I ask.

Cameron laughs. “Probably both right about now.”

I cover her hand with mine and squeeze. “What’s your poison?” I ask. “Do you prefer sweet, salty, or smokey?”

“You decide,” she says.

I smile. “Dirty martini, it is.”

“Piper? I hope Kelsey didn’t force you to call me or something. She’s always trying to play matchmaker.”

“No one forces me to do anything,” I say. I can tell by how Cameron shifts on her stool that she’s nervous. “Cam?”

“Sorry.”

“We’ve known each other for years,” I tell her. “You don’t need to be nervous.”

“I’m sorry, Piper. I haven’t been on a date in a year. And it’s been longer than that since I went out with someone I was genuinely excited about.”

Cameron’s admission surprises me. “Why don’t we have a drink and head back to your place?” I giggle at the blush creeping up Cameron’s neck. “Just to talk,” I say. “Freely.”

“Just to talk, huh?”

I watch her mouth form the words and fight back the urge to taste the martini on her tongue. Shit. “To talk.”

“Cam? What has Kelsey told you about me?”

Cameron shrugs. “I know you are part of their community.”

“I was for a long time.”

“Sometimes, I don’t think Kelsey understands me,” she says.

“Welcome to the club.”

Cameron grins. “I couldn’t do that.”

I look at her curiously.

“Call someone my master,” Cameron says. “I just—I don’t think I could do that. The only dungeon I can picture Caleb mastering is one full of toy dragons—or maybe virtual ones in their living room.”

I laugh so hard I snort. Caleb resembles the stereotype. My older sister was addicted to John Hughes’ movies. I can picture Caleb with a bra on his head, trying to make the perfect woman—or attempting to train imaginary dragons.

“Sorry,” Cam says.

“Don’t be. I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time.”

Cameron’s shy smile unexpectedly tugs at my belly. I’ve always enjoyed being around her—listening to her talk about her work and her misadventures with Kelsey when they were kids. She possesses an innocence that surprises me.

Cameron sighs. “She calls Caleb, sir. I don’t know, Piper. Kelsey is like the instruction manual I didn’t ask to read. Do you know what I mean?”

I lift a brow.

“If you pursue something, Cam, expect to call her ma’am or some honorific. Come to think of it, maybe she’s more like a warning label,” Cameron says.