“I just can’t believe this. I can’t. My heart is broken. My poor baby. My sweet boy. What they’re sayin’ about you just breaks my heart!”

At his mother’s dramatic cry coming through the line, Camden rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.

Thirty-three years he’d been on this Earth, the last of four siblings, and she still treated him like he was a child.

“Ma, it’s okay. Please don’t cry.”

“Of course it’s not okay!” Her sorrow quickly morphed into righteous rage, as it usually did when something upset her. It was the Southie in her. Sweet as pie to her kids when they deserved it, and her grandkids always, but ruthless and vengeful when she felt her family was being threatened. “Goddamn vultures, pickin’ on you like that. I got half a mind to come over there and beat the hell outta each and every one of them. And that girl! Oh, that girl better hope she never crosses my path. Hand to God, she won’t like what happens.”

“Don’t let Father O’Flannery hear you talkin’ like that. He’d be seriously disappointed.”

His mom snorted through the line. “I keep him around for forgiveness, not permission.”

“Christ,” he grunted, pressing his fingertips against his forehead to stave off the headache growing there.

“Watch your mouth, boy! Take the Lord’s name in vain again and I’ll tan your behind.”

A bewildered bark of laughter burst past his lips. “Really? You’re gonna get on me for one word after everything you just said?”

“Do as I say, not as I do.”

“Of course, how could I forget?”

The accent he’d worked so hard to lose came back full force every time he spoke to one of his relatives. It had taken years for him to learn to pronounce his As correctly and stop dropping his Rs. He even took voice lessons to lose it, but one short conversation with his mom and the distinctive Boston accent came back like he had never left.

“But seriously, how are you doin’, baby?”

He scrubbed at the scruff he’d let grow along his jaw the past several days and gave thought to his answer. He wasn’t good, not at all. It felt like his life was in a tailspin. Everything was out of his control, and he could do nothing to stop it. But if he admitted that, she’d only worry more.

“I’m good, Ma. I promise. Shit like this happens all the time. It’ll disappear just as fast as it started.” Or at least that was what he hoped. “Did you…?” Shit, he didn’t want to ask, but he had to. “Please tell me you didn’t watch the video.”

“Someone sent it to Carter. He only saw a minute of it before he shut it down. He told me and warned me it was out there, but I didn’t watch.”

Well thank Christ for small miracles. He just wished his brother hadn’t seen any of it. Carter took his role as the oldest seriously—too seriously at times—and there wasn’t a doubt in Camden’s mind that it was just a matter of time before he got a call from his big brother.

“You gotta know, baby, none of us are judgin’ you. Not one damn bit. We’re all just worried. We want to know you’re okay.”

“I’m okay, I swear.” The lie rolled off his tongue way too easily.

“Good. That have anything to do with the girl you were seen with a couple days ago?

Damn it. He should have known. Since he got his first record deal and started making a name for himself, his mom had taken to Googling him on a daily basis, printing out articles and photos so she could put them all in scrapbooks. She did it with all of her kids, her way of memorializing their achievements. The pride she took in her children was extreme, carrying those damn scrapbooks with her everywhere she went—the salon, the deli, her weekly book club or bridge games. It bordered on ridiculous, but they didn’t say a word, mainly because their father would skin them alive for hurting their mother’s feelings whether she started it by embarrassing them or not.

“Ma, don’t start.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about! I’m not startin’ anything. I’m just asking a simple question is all.”

Simple question, my ass.

“Ma, I—”

“She’s very pretty. Not that I got that good a look at her, what with your tongue down her throat and all that.”

“Fuck me” he grunted, that headache growing more intense.

“Does she… well, I’m assuming that video… she knows…?”

Their conversation was getting worse with every passing second. “We’ve only been on the one date. She works for Tate, and she set it up. And to answer your question, she knows, but I don’t think it bothers her.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. As a matter of fact, she got pretty pissed at some of the shit they were yelling at me when we left the restaurant. She got a bit defensive.” The memory of Sutton looking mad enough to draw blood just before melting into his side in a show of support made a smile tug at his lips.

His mother let out an excited squeak. “So when do we get to meet her?”

“One date, Ma,” he said flatly. “We’ve been on one goddamn date. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, yeah?”

“I know Tatum, sweetheart. I trust that girl’s judgment as much as I do my own. If she thinks this girl—”

“Sutton,” Camden cut in quickly and surprisingly. “Her name’s Sutton.”

“Sutton,” his mom said like she was testing the word on her tongue. “Pretty name. I like it. Anyway, if sweet Tatum thinks this Sutton’s a good fit for you, I believe it.”

Something rancid slithered up his throat, leaving a vile, bitter taste in his mouth. He and Tate had been best friends for so long that his family had gotten to know her really well. They all loved her and, though they wouldn’t admit it out loud, he was pretty sure they were all heartbroken when she and Declan got back together and eventually married. Despite the whole Knight clan wanting it, he and Tate just never felt that way about each other.

But for Tatum to set him up with another woman who had her stamp of approval? Well, that was just as good in the eyes of Valery Knight.

Being dishonest to his family didn’t sit right. It ate away at him like acid.

“It was a blind date, that’s all. Don’t get your hopes up.” But even as he said it, Camden’s mind went back to that goddamn kiss and that smile she’d graced him with as they stood by her car, and he felt his dick thickening in his jeans.

He’d expected the date to be more miserable than a prostate exam, but when she’d leaned into him at dinner, he’d unconsciously reached for that silky dark hair. He hadn’t even realized he’d touched her so intimately until Tate brought attention to it. The move had been second nature, and now that he knew her locks were even softer than he’d expected, he wanted nothing more than to wrap the long strands around his fist as he shoved his cock down her throat until her eyes watered.

Jesus fucking Christ. Get your shit together, Knight.

“It’s only been one date so far, son. Who knows, this might be the start of something really huge.”

Who knows? He did. He knew exactly how wrong she was. Nothing was going to come of this but a huge fucking headache. Hopefully it would lead to the press getting the hell off his back, but that would be the only plus out of all the negatives that were to come with this fucked-up arrangement.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” he lied again. He needed to get the fuck off the phone before his guilt burned an ulcer in his stomach.

“So you gonna see her again? ’Cause, you know, you can never run low on grandbabies, and my youngest is already potty trainin’. I need a baby to keep me spry.”

That was it. He couldn’t do this anymore. The lies were compounding until the weight of them was threatening to flatten him. “I gotta go, Ma. I have a couple meetings I have to get to, but I’ll give you a call tomorrow, yeah?”

She didn’t bother hiding the disappointment in her voice when she replied. “Okay, sweetheart. Tomorrow.”

“Give the rest of the family my love.”

“Will do, baby. Love you.”

“Right back ’atcha, Ma.” With that, he hung up and collapsed on the gaudy, uncomfortable sofa in the living area of his hotel suite.

Nothing about the décor was his style, not even close, but he hadn’t gotten around to house hunting since his move to Seattle six months ago. He might have had money in the bank, but he didn’t have the first clue what he wanted.

He’d grown up in a clapboard colonial that had been in constant need of repair. But no matter what broke or how often the basement flooded, all he’d left that place with were good memories thanks to his loud, crazy family. Holidays spent eating in a kitchen that was too small. Having to share a room with his brother Cooper until he eventually started college. One bathroom between him, his brothers, and sister.

A family of six shouldn’t have fit, but they made it work and they’d been happy there. Not even the mammoth mansions he’d looked at in Seattle held the same appeal of his childhood home.

So a five-star hotel was where he called home, even though he didn’t like it. And as he rose to his feet, scrubbed his face, and headed into the opulent master bath for a much-needed shower, he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of house Sutton lived in, or if she’d mind helping him find one of his own.

Son of a bitch.