CHAPTER TWO
CAMI
THE PLAN WAS TO STOP by the butcher shop this morning, but I hit the snooze button on my phone a few times too many. I guess that’s what happens when you spend the night tossing and turning, dreaming of the many different cuts of “meat” available on the menu, but all their faces wind up looking like Ben.
As I park my car outside The Meat Market on my lunch hour, I can’t stop thinking about Ben Miller and the way he looked in those jeans, walking away from me yet again this afternoon. The man is superhero hot, but it’s more than that. Something about him calls to me. He’s charming, with a boyish smirk that would melt any woman’s panties. He takes care of the people around him, like his crew, always ensuring they have what they need before heading home for the night. Most of all, he makes me comfortable.
The first time I laid eyes on him, he was walking the building with the city planner, going over the blueprints. The moment our eyes met, I melted into his dark chocolate depths. The air crackled with each step he took, intensifying the closer he came to me. When they finally stopped at my desk to ask a few questions, I found myself rambling on just to keep him near.
Never has a man evoked the emotions he has in me. The more he comes around, the easier it is for me. He came around often, during his project, making up reasons to talk to me, and I found myself looking for him on the days I knew he’d be in. There were a few occasions I thought he might ask me out, but he never did.
Turning my head, I shake off my sudden disappointment over Ben and bring my attention back to the quaint building next to me. I open the car door and step out onto the street. Then, I lift a hand to make sure my hair is in place before I make my way inside the building, pushing Ben out of my thoughts completely.
If he were interested, he would have made a move by now, but he hasn’t, I tell myself while taking in the atmosphere around me.
The first thing I notice is the change in temperature, but then I see that no one is behind the counter. A small silver bell glints at me from the counter, and I walk over and press down on the button, alerting whatever staff is around to my presence.
“Be out in just a minute,” a male voice calls from a doorway behind the counter. “Feel free to take a look around.”
I shift from foot to foot because my nerves are starting to kick in, making me second-guess my decision to do this.
What in the hell are you thinking, Camilla? I chastise myself, but before I can turn and flee, a man emerges from the doorway. A man who would make any warm-blooded woman stop and look twice.
“Hi,” he greets me with a dazzling white smile, and for a moment, I’m struck dumb by the Adonis he is. “How can I help you?”
I clear my throat to speak, but words don’t come easy. He smirks, clearly aware of the effect he’s having on me.
Woman up, Camilla!
“Is Jason here?” I manage in a cracked voice, but my hands begin to shake as my nerves ramp up.
“I’m Jason,” he says, tilting his head to study me. I take a hesitant step forward and a deep breath.
“Hi, Jason.” A flush heats my cheeks. Why does Jason have to be so gorgeous? But to be honest, he isn’t my type, and he isn’t Ben. I cringe, shit, don’t think about Ben right now!
“Are you okay?” His brow crinkles, and his eyes fall on my hands clasped tightly together in front of me. I keep twisting my fingers almost painfully. I take a deep breath, and push through, refusing to let my sudden attack of nerves control me.
“Yes,” I respond, releasing my hands in the process. “I’d like to place an order.”
“Sure.” He eyes me carefully before pulling out an order slip from the register. “What can I get you?”
“I’d like to order some meat?” I reply with a small chuckle, trying to be clever about the whole thing, but instead, I feel like a total dork.
“Okay, would you like to order a single helping or for a group?”
“Single. Wait, you do groups?”
“Sure,” he answers, but the way his brow furrows, it’s almost like he isn’t sure how to answer my question. “Large orders require a minimum month’s notification.”
“I don’t want a group order. I just want something pleasing.” I relax a little, no longer feeling as ridiculous, but still nervous enough I once again clasp my hands in front of me and begin twisting my fingers.
“What kind of meat would you like?”
“I’m not sure. Do you have a menu, or like a catalogue?”
“For meat?”
“Yes, I’d like to know what you offer.”
He tilts his head, his curiosity written all over his face, making me feel like I’ve lost my mind. I stare back at him, blinking once and then twice, but he says nothing.
“Did I say something wrong?” I ask, suddenly aware of how weird the conversation is becoming.
“No, but I have a feeling we’re talking about two different things.” He places the order form down onto the counter and leans forward. His eyes narrow in on my face, like he’s trying to figure me out. “You’re not here for a traditional slab of steak, are you?”
“No. I’m looking for something untraditional,” I answer, feeling a little braver. His eyebrows lift, and he chuckles, clearly entertained by me.
“Are you a referral?” he asks, and just like that, whatever worries or concerns I have about Miranda making all of this up, are gone.
“I overheard some coworkers talking about it yesterday.”
“Eavesdropping on a private conversation?” He crosses his arms before smirking at me. My insides respond as he looks me up and down.
“Yes, er, no. Maybe.”
“And you wanted to see if they were telling the truth.” I nod and swallow the lump forming in my throat. He eyes me carefully, assessing the legitimacy of my curiosity. “You’re serious about an order, then?”
“Now that I know this is real. Yes, I’m serious about placing an order.”
“What’s your name?” he asks, focusing on my face.
“Camilla Babcock.”
Something flares deep within his eyes when he hears my name, almost like he’s heard it before.
“You work at the library?” he asks, and I find myself speechless. How does he know where I work?
“Yes, how did you—”
“Camilla, I know exactly what to order for you.” He smiles at me, his eyes holding a secret. “Will you trust me to set you up with one of my guys?”
I close my eyes and take a breath. “I don’t know.”
“You came here today to take a chance. So, take it. Trust me, I won’t steer you wrong.” He finishes with a wink, and I can’t help feeling like he’s telling me the truth.
“Okay,” I agree, shaking my head.
“Be ready Friday night at seven, your date will pick you up then.”
“It’s that easy? How do you know what I want from him?”
“First, you need to give me your address and a credit card. Second, yes, it is this easy. And finally, whatever does or doesn’t happen is between you and your date.” He hands me a piece of paper, and I write down the name of a restaurant. He eyeballs it. “You want to meet up at this restaurant?”
“If it’s not too much trouble.”
“Not at all. He’ll be there Friday, at seven.” I reach into my purse and produce a credit card. I swallow hard as the reality of what’s currently taking place sets in.
Holy shit, I just booked a date with an escort!
The thought does something to me I can’t quite explain. Something life-changing, and I like it.
For the first time in my life, I feel powerful, womanly, and definitely sexy.