~Landon~
“Hello?”
“Where are the screws?” Cami asks in my ear as I lay my drill down and frown at the room in general.
“What screws?”
“The ones at the home supply store.”
I grin and fold my arms. “You’re at Home Depot?”
“Yes, and I can’t find the damn screws.” Her voice is thick with exasperation and I can’t help but wish I was there to witness this. It’s been more than a week since the power went out and I spent the night with her in my arms, and I’ve barely seen her since then because of both of our work schedules. I’m determined to spend the weekend with her.
“Do you see the signs at the ends of the aisles? Nails and screws should be listed somewhere.”
She grumbles in my ear as I motion for my foreman. I put her on mute.
“I’m gonna run an errand, but I’ll be in back in less than an hour.”
“Sounds good, boss.”
“Cami? I’m coming down there.”
“You don’t need to come here, Landon, I just don’t know where anything is.”
“You’re not far away. I’ll see you in a few.”
I hang up and hurry out to my work truck. The truth is, I miss seeing her beautiful face. I’ve talked to her on the phone a few times, and there have been plenty of texts, but I need to see her.
I pull into the parking lot, finding a slot close to the door, and jog inside. I find her in the nail and screw aisle, her nephew Steven standing next to her, fuming.
“I’m telling you, Cami, those screws are too small. The shelf won’t hold.”
“Don’t yell at me!”
Steven looks up and sees me. “She called both of us.”
I reach out and shake his hand, then turn to Cami. “How’s it going, Bob Vila?”
“I want these screws.” She’s frowning, her lips twisted in frustration. “But Mr. Know-It-All says they won’t work.”
“What are you building?”
“I’m redoing my pantry.”
I nod. “Why did you call both of us?”
“Because it’s always better to get more than one opinion,” she says reasonably. “And he didn’t tell me what I wanted to hear.”
“Oh my God, Cami, I’m out.” Steven pulls at his hair and looks up at me. “She’s all yours.”
“I love you,” she tells him sweetly.
“Yeah, I love you too, and it’s a good thing because otherwise I wouldn’t put up with your shit.” He grins and leaves as she blows him a kiss.
“Steven grew up,” I say, surprised.
“He’s in college now,” she says with a nod, still staring at the screws. “He’s working at the restaurant a few days a week.”
“Awesome. Still living at home?”
“No, he’s living with his girlfriend. Amanda and Brock moved to Seattle about a year ago for a job opportunity, and Steven wanted to stay here. I offered him my guest room, but I think he likes having a little freedom. He checks in with me.”
“Okay, tell me more about your pantry.”
“Okay. So, I want to redo the shelving and paint it. It currently has wire shelves, and whoever put them in there should be hung by them.” She scoffs, making me grin. “I can’t put granola bars on them. Or little packets of taco seasoning. They fall right through!”
“So you want wood shelves.”
“Yes.” She nods. “So what screws do I buy?”
I survey the packages of screws on the wall and pull a few down. “These.”
“Okay. Now I need shelves.”
“Let’s go.” I take her to the organization aisle and we pick out the shelves she wants, along with brackets and bins.
“Now, since you’re here . . .” She bats her big green eyes at me.
“Yes?”
“I need paint and a door.”
“A door?”
“I really want to replace the plain one with one of those pretty ones with the glass in them that says ‘pantry.’”
She bites her lip and looks up at me, and in this moment, I’d give her just about anything she asked for.
“Okay, a door it is. This way.” She follows me all the way to the other side of the store, stopping on the way to pick out a paint color, brushes, and other painting supplies. After we’ve chosen her new door, we make our way to the checkout counter.
“I can’t fit this all in my car.”
“I have the work truck,” I say, leading her to it. “I’ll just take this stuff with me and meet you at your place after work. I’ll help you put it together.”
“Well, at least let me take the paint and I’ll get that done before you get there.”
“Good plan.” She helps me unload the flat cart, takes the paint, and sends me a winning smile.
“Thank you, Landon.”
“You’re welcome.” Before she can walk away, I grab her hand and tug her to me, lower my head, and kiss her softly. “I’ll see you a little later.”
“Looking forward to it,” she breathes. She sends me a sassy smile, then turns and walks to her car, a little extra sway in her step, her pretty blond hair bouncing around her shoulders.
I want her.
IT’S LATER THAN I anticipated when I pull up to Cami’s house, thanks to a bunch of snafus at work this afternoon and then getting tied up at my dad’s office discussing a new job.
Work is really interfering with my love life.
I use the key Cami gave me to let myself in, and find Scoot lying on the back of the couch, sleeping soundly. He opens his eyes when I walk past, but then falls right back to sleep, not caring in the least that I’m here.
Suddenly I hear . . . giggling. I walk into the kitchen to find a war zone. Food, bins, and appliances cover every surface. The pantry door is standing open. I can’t see inside it, but I hear a loud thud, then Cami giggle, and another female voice says, “Ow! That was my knee!”
“Sorry.” More giggling. I quietly walk around the island until I can see inside the pantry, then stop, fold my arms over my chest, and watch the show.
Because it’s quite the show.
All of the old wire shelves have been taken out. Cami’s on her hands and knees, painting along the baseboard. Kat is rolling up high, and they’re chattering away.
“Dick size is important,” Kat says, as if she’s talking about the weather. “I mean, if it’s too small, it’s like, Are you in yet? And if you have to ask that question, it’s not a good sign.”
“Definitely not,” Cami says, slurring her words. She sits back on her haunches, giving me a prime view of her back and ass, and takes a sip of wine, right out of the damn bottle. “And if they’re too big, it’s like, ouch! I prefer a medium-sized dick.”
“Yes!” Kat says, nodding. “Medium-sized is perfect. Not fun-sized. Why do they call it fun-sized, anyway? What’s fun about small pieces of chocolate? Or small cocks?”
“Or small dicks,” Cami adds, then laughs. “Oh, you just said that.”
“It’s worth saying twice,” Kat says. “Also, the last douche I dated? What was his name?”
“Craig?”
“Yes!” Kat exclaims, pointing at Cami. “Craig. He wouldn’t go down on me. What the fuck is up with men who won’t go down on a girl?”
I smirk, completely agreeing with Kat, and more than a little shocked. Jesus, girl talk is a hell of a lot more explicit than locker room talk. Who knew? This is fascinating.
“Right? Like, we’re supposed to suck them off like some kind of sucking Olympian, but they won’t return the favor?” Cami asks before drinking more wine. “It’s ludi-ridicu . . . It’s dumb.” I cover my mouth to keep from laughing at her stumbling over her tongue.
God, she’s fucking hilarious.
“So dumb,” Kat agrees. “Does Landon do it for you?”
Now my interest is very piqued. I wish we’d already made love so she could brag a bit. But then again, I’m not so sure how I feel about her sharing our intimate time together.
Which is a change for me. I don’t think it would have ever bothered me in the past.
“We haven’t done any of the sex stuff.” Cami takes a sip of wine, then bends over to touch up some paint, showing me her perfectly round, begging-to-be-kissed ass.
“None?” Kat looks down at her and frowns. “Like, at all?”
“We kiss sometimes,” Cami says. “Maybe he doesn’t want to do the sex.”
Oh, he wants to do the sex, sweetheart.
“He does,” Kat says, her voice confident. I nod.
“How do you know?”
“Because he’s a man. Trust me, he wants the sex.”
“I think he likes me,” Cami says.
Oh, I like you.
“I hope so. Otherwise I’ll have to remove his manhood,” Kat says, and they both giggle.
“Don’t do that,” Cami says right before snorting, which makes her laugh even harder. “I have plans for his manhood. I think he’d be really good at the sex stuff. Like, really, really good.”
“You know, if he doesn’t initiate sex, you should just drop to your knees and suck him.” Kat nods once. “Just go to town on him.”
Jesus. Just the thought has me rock hard. I need to interrupt this conversation, but just before I step forward, Cami says, “I thought about it. I might just attack him.”
“Yessssss!” Kat says. “Do it. Seriously.”
I clear my throat and walk toward the pantry like I just got here. If they keep talking like this, I’ll scoop Cami up and take her upstairs to rectify the no-sex-yet situation, and she’s way too drunk for that to be our first time.
“Hello, ladies.”
“You’re just in time!” Cami says with a smile and staggers to her feet, then gives me a big hug.
“I am?”
“Yep, lover boy,” Kat says, and lifts her bottle of wine. “We’ve painted the pantry.”
“Say that five times fast,” Cami says with a giggle. “Painted the pantry. Painted the pantry. Printed the pinto.”
“Ha! Printed the pinto.” Kat laughs.
“I like the color,” I reply, admiring the deep coral that looks happy and cheerful in the nice-sized pantry.
“Me too,” Cami says happily. “It’s pretty.”
“Your kitchen is a hot mess,” Kat says with a frown as she walks out of the pantry and throws her empty bottle of wine in the trash. “This is going to require a small army.”
“Or a box of matches,” Cami says. “I could burn it all down and start over.”
“But we just planted a pantry,” Kat replies, then snorts. “Boy, we’re drunk.”
“Drunk painting is good for the soul,” Cami says, smiling up at me. “You’re pretty.”
“Pretty?” I drag my fingertips down her cheek and she snuggles close to me. “I don’t think guys are supposed to be pretty.”
“But you are,” she says with a sigh. “With your dark lashes and thick hair and all your . . . prettiness.”
“She thinks you’re hot,” Kat says, and shrugs when Cami scowls at her. “What? You just told him he’s pretty. I’m translating.”
“Thank you,” I say, chuckling. “I’ll take you home, Kat.”
“I have my car.”
“And you’re way too drunk to drive. You don’t live far.”
“I’ll call an Uber,” she says, waving me off and pulling the app up on her phone. “No need for you to leave and come all the way back.”
“This was fun,” Cami says. “But we forgot to eat.”
“No wonder we got so drunk,” Kat says. “I knew we were forgetting something. According to this, my driver will be here in three minutes. I’ll go out and wait.”
“Thank you,” Cami says, and hugs Kat around the neck. “You’re pretty too.”
Kat snorts again. “You are drunk. You’re welcome. See you when I see you.”
“I’ll go wait with you,” I say as we walk to the front door. “It’s dark.”
Cami crashes on the couch as Kat and I walk outside and down to the sidewalk.
“I think you’re good for her,” Kat says out of the blue. “She’s happy. And it’s been a long time since I’ve seen her be really happy.”
“I’m glad.” This is an awkward conversation.
“Just don’t hurt her.” She points her finger into my chest. “Seriously, don’t. Because then she’ll be sad, and she’s had her share of sad, with her parents dying and her divorce and stuff.”
“I don’t want her to be sad either,” I reply. “And thank you for being such a good friend to her.”
“Well, duh. She’s awesome. Oh, there’s my car.” A black car pulls up to the curb and the driver rolls down the window, verifying that Kat is his passenger. She climbs in the backseat and waves at me, blows a kiss, and they drive away.
I take a deep breath, enjoying the crisp night air, then walk back inside and smile softly at my girl passed out cold on the couch. She’s curled in a ball, her head resting against the back cushion, and Scoot is curled up in her lap, purring away.
I take the blanket off the back of a chair and drape it over her, leaving Scoot’s head poking out, and bend down to kiss her forehead.
“Sleep well.”
And now it’s time to get started on the pantry.
SOMEONE’S KISSING ME. My face, my neck, my ear. I crack an eye open and find Cami smiling at me, lying on top of me. After I finished the pantry, at around two in the morning, I simply picked Cami up and joined her on the couch, and we slept here all night.
Scoot is lying on my feet.
“Good morning,” Cami says softly. “I don’t remember falling asleep here.”
“You were in a wine coma,” I inform her dryly. “What time is it?”
“I don’t know. It’s Saturday. Do you have to work?”
“Nope, I’m off today. I’d like to spend it with you, if that’s okay.”
She smiles happily. “It’s okay.”
I drag my knuckles down her cheek and kiss her forehead. She feels so good lying on top of me. The only way this would be better would be if I was inside her.
But we’ll get there.
“I’ll make you breakfast,” I offer softly.
“I can make it.” She’s playing with my hair and watching her own fingers as they comb through the strands, then her eyes widen. “Oh no! I have to put my kitchen back together!”
I kiss her, then sit up, taking her with me, and when we’re both on our feet, I guide her back to the kitchen, where she stops cold, eyes wide, surveying the clean room.
“Was I robbed?”
“No.” I laugh and kiss her head, then walk over and open the new pantry door.
“Oh my God.” She walks over and studies the door, then peeks inside. “Oh, it’s so pretty.”
“You did a great job on the paint,” I say, loving how her cheeks have gone pink and her eyes shine as she walks into the pantry and checks it out. “I wasn’t completely sure where you wanted everything, so you can obviously change it, but it’s put away for now at least.”
“You did this for me.” It’s not a question. She turns and looks at me with confusion and elation, all mixed together.
“Of course I did.”
“Why?” She shakes her head, then looks around again. “I mean, I’m grateful, and it looks amazing. It’s exactly what I wanted. But this must have taken you all night.”
“I was done by two,” I reply proudly. “And I did it because I knew you’d like it.”
And because it seems I’d do just about anything for this woman, but I’m not ready to tell her that. Not yet.
“Thank you,” she says, and walks into my arms, her head pressed to my chest, and hugs me tightly. “It’s so great.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Now I have the whole day free.” She kisses my chest, then pulls away, shuts the door of the pantry, gives it a grin, and moves to the fridge. “How do you want your eggs?”
“So you are making breakfast?”
“Yes, sir. I haven’t cooked for you. Eggs?”
“Scrambled.”
She nods and begins pulling ingredients out of the fridge. “Scrambled it is. I’m also going to make ham, potatoes, and toast.”
“That’s quite a feast.”
“It’s all part of a balanced breakfast,” she says with a wink. God, she’s sassy. Has she always been this sassy? This much fun? “Plus, you’ve earned it.”
“Have I earned a shower?”
“Definitely.” She keeps gathering supplies. “Go help yourself. This should be just about ready by the time you’re done.”
“I can stay and help.”
“I’m good. Go ahead.” She waves me off, already concentrating on the task at hand. “Oh, I have to feed you, little man.” She bends over to scratch Scoot behind his ears and he doesn’t even bat at her this time.
They’re making progress.
Before I leave to take my shower, I pull her into my arms and kiss her soundly. She melts against me, her hands planted on my arms. She kisses me back, as if I’m the best thing since sliced bread. Her tongue tangles with mine, and one of her hands glides up over my shoulder and into my hair at the back of my head.
I growl. She tastes amazing, and she feels even better. Her grip on my hair tightens. She clenches her fist, almost pulling my hair, and I can’t stand it. I boost her up onto the countertop and grind my now hard cock against her crotch, squeezing her ass and pulling her tightly against me. She groans and rotates her hips, pushing. I slip my hand under the shirt she’s still wearing from last night, skim up over her ribs, and cover her small breast with my palm, and squeeze gently. She covers my hand with hers and encourages me to squeeze harder.
Suddenly the smoke alarm goes off, startling us both, and we stare at each other for a moment as we breathe hard, both our mouths wet and swollen, her eyes are glassy.
I glance over at the stove. The pan she put on the burner to heat up is smoking.
“Oops,” she says, and giggles, twists out of my hold, and moves the pan. “Go get in the shower. I’m hungry.”
“I’m hungry too,” I reply, and her gaze meets mine again. She gives me a naughty grin, licks her lips, and winks. I can’t help but let out a laugh as I shake my head and leave the room.
I’ll make it a cold shower.