“What are you thinking about?”
“David Kitchler.”
“David the Diseased Kitchler? The walking STD? Why?”
“Don’t know. What’s he doing these days?” Cam knows everything about everyone.
“Last I heard he was in Vegas losing all of his daddy’s money and then some.”
“Someone should castrate him.”
A startled laugh bubbles out of Cam. “I didn’t know you felt that strongly.”
“Knowingly inflicting pain on someone else is major asswipe behavior. Putting someone’s life at risk should get some kind of serious punishment. His daddy didn’t take him out to the woodshed enough.” I snap my mouth shut. That’s all the talking I want to do about David Kitchler and Monmarte.
“What are you doing here? You never leave the ranch. I heard that when Birdie held her fashion show there, you hid out in your cabin for a whole week. What are you planning to do for the wedding?” I’d been there. Stole a few peeks at her. I’d made sure she arrived alone and left the same way because I’m a selfish asshole and couldn’t bear thinking she’d been so close and someone else took her right under my nose.
“I don’t know that I would call it hiding out. I prefer vacationing.”
“Vacations are trips you take away from your home, not on your own property.”
“Then staycationing.”
Cam shakes her head. “Fine. Staycation it is. Do you plan to—” She breaks off as the waiter approaches. “Thanks, Josh. Here.” She shoves the glass in my hand. “Drink some and this event will pass by easier.”
“How do you know the waiter?”
“I always use Bradford for my staffing. You never did answer my question about the wedding. Are you hiding out or are you attending?”
I down some of the whiskey. It’s smooth and warm. I wouldn’t mind sipping some of this off of Cam’s pretty breasts.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Just wondering whether I should accept the invitation.”
It feels like she’s flirting with me, which I should shut down immediately since like Babs said, I can’t have Cam. We’re chalk and chowder. No. Chalk and cheese. Whatever the hell that means, but I’m not shutting it down and I’m not moving away. I’m here on Cam’s yacht, a foot away from Cam’s delicious rack, drinking Cam’s expensive whiskey and thinking about whether I should tell her to show me to her state room where I can bend her over the nearest chair and fuck her till we are both blind.
“I’ll be there,” I hear myself admitting. “I’m the best man.”
“Nice. Who’s the maid of honor?” The question is sharp and unlike Cam, who is all curves and warmth.
“Don’t know. Never paid attention.”
“Best men don’t sleep with the bridesmaids anymore. That’s old school,” she informs me.
“Good to know.” I down the rest of the whiskey. Wonder how booze and pussy tastes. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
“You sure? Because there’s a look in your eye.”
I stare at Cam with a heart full of lust. “What’s that look saying?”
She sucks in a breath. “That I shouldn’t be talking to you anymore if I know what’s good for me.”
CHAPTER 4
CAM
“It’s rude to not talk to your own guest, Cam.” A rare smile tilts up at the corner of his lips.
I think Tucker Justice might be flirting with me. At least his eyes are. They linger on me a bit too long. So do the few touches that he’s given me. I’m not sure what to make of it. My body is waking up from a lifetime of slumber. Or maybe it’s a bit of wishful thinking on my part.
“I’d think you’d be the last person on this yacht that cared if someone talked to you or not.” This is the most I’ve heard this man speak since I’ve known him.
To my surprise, Tucker takes another drink that Josh brings over. He glowers at the man the whole time, though. I know we’ve both had a bit more to drink than we should have. At least I know I have.
I’m usually good at holding my own, but that sneaky champagne has crept up on me. I should know better than to drink so much of it, but I hadn’t been thinking straight when I realized Tucker was on my yacht. I went for the nearest drink to try and calm my nerves. He tips back the rest of his whiskey, setting the empty glass down on a table.
“I care,” he admits. “Now tell me why you shouldn’t be talking to me. You talk to everyone.” If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that Tucker is jealous of my attention not being on him.
“I used to have the worst crush on you. You’re terrible for a girl's ego.” The words slip from me before I can overthink them too much. Tucker doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stands there looking adorably shocked.
“I think you’re mixing me up with Cane?” He pulls at the top button of his shirt, loosening it. My body instantly heats. And I know it’s not from the liquor. I didn’t think the man could be sexier, but I was obviously wrong. Part of Tucker’s appeal is he has no idea how attractive he is.