“I’m getting something out of it too,” he said slyly.
I lifted an eyebrow. “You are?”
He grinned. “Did I forget to mention that you owe me now?”
“I’m pretty sure this is the first I’m hearing about it.”
He grinned and dammit, even in the dark his dimple caused my heart to melt. “You owe me, Harlow.”
“What do you want?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
Something about the way he said that caused a commotion to erupt inside my belly. It felt like there were tiny people in there doing jumping jacks. Very clumsy tiny people.
I stayed in the Mustang as he lifted the hood to both our cars and then retrieved the jumper cables out of his trunk. When they were connected, he knocked on the window and I looked over, my eyes colliding with the view of his defined abs. And yeah, his abs were really good-looking, but what made my hands clench was the little indentations on each side of his hips… you know that hollow indent that really in-shape guys got that led all the way to… well, to you know where.
I had this incredible urge to reach out and run my fingers over that part of him, to follow it to the very spot where it ended.
“Earth to Harlow,” Cam called, leaning down and looking in the window.
I jumped like I was just caught robbing a bank and hurried to open the door. It swung open a lot easier than I thought and it smacked into Cam, making him grunt and double over.
“Cam!” I gasped, shutting the door and rushing to his side. “I’m such a klutz! Did I hurt you?”
I placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned down just as he was standing up, and his head caught my cheek.
When we smacked together, I shrieked and stumbled backward as searing pain cracked across my cheekbone.
A string of curse words fell from his lips and he grabbed my head, angling it back and turning my face so he could see me under the dim lights of the parking lot.
“How old are you?”
“Why, do I have wrinkles?” I asked, watching him study my face.
He rolled his eyes. “No, you do not have wrinkles.”
“I’m twenty-one.”
“How in the hell have you managed to keep yourself alive for twenty-one years?” he wondered as he smoothed the pad of his thumb across the tender flesh on my face.
It hurt, but I barely noticed. Every time he got close to me, it’s like my brain went into some other universe, and in that universe everything consisted of only him.
His words followed my brain into that universe and I bristled. “I beg your pardon?”
He snorted. “Please. Like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“I’ve managed just fine!”
He dropped his hands—clearly deciding I wasn’t that hurt—and smirked. “Since I’ve met you, you have tripped and fallen over a pair of flip-flops, fell onto a table, spilled beer all over two guys, managed to murder the battery on your car, fallen over while getting off my bike, hit me with the car door, and then slammed your face into my head.”
“You hit me!” I growled, but in the back of my mind, I was thinking about that impressive list. Wow, I was practically a walking apocalypse. I reached up and brushed the still-stinging area and prayed I wasn’t going to get a black eye. That would not be good for tips.
He palmed my face again, tilting my head back and studying it again. “Still hurt?” he asked low.
I nodded.
He bent, his breath brushing across my face before he pressed his lips not once, not twice, but three times over the area. They were feather-light kisses, but they mowed me over like a Mack truck.
“I’m sorry I hit you, baby. I’ll make it better.” Then he kissed me again.
I reached up and wrapped my fingers around his wrists. My heart thudded so unevenly it was hard to breathe. I felt lightheaded from his kisses, and all I could think about was getting just one more.
“Feel better?” he murmured as I clutched him to me. My eyes fluttered open and met his, which were so dark they looked like glittering black pearls.
I nodded just slightly. I did feel better… I couldn’t even remember what hurt in the first place.
His lips quirked up in a half smile and then he kissed me again.
On the lips.
It was another one of those feather-light brushes, but oh my God, every single place inside me felt it. Something deep within me opened, something I hadn’t even realized was closed… like there was this secret place and the combination to enter was his lips.
I made a soft sound as he lifted his head, so he came back, giving me just one more short taste.
His hands fell away from me and he stepped back, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even breathe. The only thing I could do was stand there and let the sensation of his kiss sink deep inside me until reality came rushing back.
I blinked. Kind of like I was waking up from some dream.
He watched me, an odd look on his face.
I was acting like a freak. Like someone who was starved for attention and would cling to any guy the first chance I got.
How pathetic.
I cleared my throat. “So are we going to do this or what?” I pushed past him and sat in the driver’s seat of the Toyota. “Tell me when.”
He went around and started up the Mustang, then signaled for me to turn the key. I did and nothing happened. So I tried again. I could hear him rev the engine of the Mustang, so I pumped the gas a bit and the engine finally turned over and purred to life.
I gave a shout of joy as the car rumbled and showed no signs of stalling.
Cam removed the jumper cables and closed both hoods and gave me a thumbs-up through the windshield.
I climbed out of my seat to fetch my bag from the floor of his car, but he met me halfway, extending it between us. “You should let the car run for a few more minutes just so the battery will charge up a little more.”
“Think it will start tomorrow?” I worried.
“Should.”
“Thanks again.”
“Anytime.”
He held up his finger, signaling for me to wait, and he jogged to his car, reached inside, and then came back to my side and extended a white business card to me.
“What’s this?” I asked, taking the card.
“It has my number on it. If you get stranded or need a ride to work tomorrow, call me.”
He was giving me his phone number. A little thrill went through me. I glanced down at the image of a surfboard sticking up out of a pile of sand.
Cam Malone
Custom Surfboards Made to Order
“You make surfboards?”
He nodded. “It’s a hobby, but someday I hope to have my own surf and board shop.”
“Wow, that’s incredible.”
“You like to surf?” he asked. I could see the passion for the sport in his eyes. I wanted to say yes so badly.
“Never been,” I admitted.
“You live in Myrtle Beach and you’ve never surfed?” He gaped.
“I only moved here a couple years ago for college.”
“Where you from originally?”
“Beaufort.”
“There’s beaches around there.” He scoffed.
I shrugged. Surfing wasn’t something I ever thought about doing. Until now.
“Of course, maybe it’s better you haven’t tried. You’d probably drown.”
Ignoring his jest, I slid the business card in the back pocket of my cutoffs. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“Don’t you want to know what you owe me?”
I braced myself for some wild proposition. “Yeah. What?”
“Come surfing with me.”
That wasn’t what I expected to hear. “Surfing?”
He nodded.
“Didn’t you just say I would probably drown?”
His teeth flashed white in the dark with his quick grin. “You’re not gonna drown. I’ll be with you.”
“What if I take you down with me?”
“You’re not going to go down at all.” He paused. “I got you.”
Inwardly, I groaned. He said the magic words. “Okay, I’ll go.”
“I go every morning. Tomorrow?”
I gaped. “What time?”
“Usually around six.”
“As in a.m.?” I raised an eyebrow.
He nodded.
“That’s inhuman.”
“I take it you aren’t a morning person?”
“Not at all.”
“You owe me.”
I sighed. “Fine. But I can’t tomorrow. It’s already after three. I’ll drown us both if I only get two hours of sleep.”
“Day after tomorrow…” He tilted his head and flashed a crooked grin.
“Yeah, okay. But I have to work at ten. Will that be long enough?”
He seemed a little surprised. “You have another job?”
I nodded. “Yeah, this is my second job.” I really needed the money.
“What do you do during the day?”
I blushed. “I run the snow cone cart over at Broadway at the Beach. It’s just a summer job.”
“What’s your favorite flavor?”
“Pineapple.”
“Original,” he noted.
“How about you?”