“I don’t think it’s a matter of being unhappy with you,” he says, and I can see that he’s telling the truth. “In fact, I know that they’ll come back with something new for you. Of course, I don’t know what that is at this time. Your career isn’t over, Cam, they just weren’t as happy with last season’s numbers as they have been in the past.”
“So they’re going to pay me anyway?”
“Absolutely. They’re under contract to pay you. You didn’t do anything wrong, and this is their decision. Otherwise, we would sue the hell out of them.”
“Then I guess I don’t have to be back in L.A. in a month.”
“I’m working on getting you other gigs. I know that I could get you on as a guest judge on Chopped. Not to mention, there have been several requests from restaurants all over the country to have you as a guest chef for a week at a time or so. You know, if Emeril goes on vacation, someone still has to cook at the restaurant.”
“I get it,” I reply with a nod, but none of that sounds particularly exciting to me right now. “Feel free to call me if something firms up, but I’m happy where I am right now. I’m in no hurry to come back to L.A.”
“Camden,” Don says, his face turning paternal and concerned. “I’m going to find you work.”
“I’m not worried,” I reply, surprised to find it true.
“You work harder than anyone I know. Being idle for long won’t sit well with you,” he says.
“I appreciate your help,” I say.
I keep the rest of the conversation short and hang up, wondering why I’m not more worried than I am. At the end of the day, I’m unemployed. Well, aside from this job with Mia, but that’s not supposed to be long term.
I’ve been in television for eight years, and it’s been good to me. It’s not only made me wealthy, it’s made Camden Sawyer a household name thanks to my own cookware line and a line of sauces in national grocery stores.
I’ve worked my ass off most of my life. I call Stephanie to get her take on things.
“Whatcha doing?” she asks as she answers the FaceTime.
“Calling you.” She wrinkles her nose at me. “So, I just got off the phone with Don, and I think he’s concerned.”
“Well, I’ve always thought he was a dick, so there’s that.”
“He’s a dick who got me some pretty good gigs, so there’s also that.”
“And in doing so, he not only made you rich, he made himself rich too.”
“Well, that’s his job.” I shake my head and watch as Chip kisses Steph’s cheek as he walks by. “Hi, Chip.”
“Hey man,” he says with a smile. “I don’t think Don’s a dick.”
“Maybe it’s a girl thing,” I reply, earning a glare from Steph.
“I’m telling you, he’s smarmy. I don’t like him.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to like him.” Chip kisses her cheek again, waves at me, and walks out of camera range.
“I have some interesting news.”
“Okay.”
I tell her about the network passing on any more seasons of my show, and the other possibilities that Don and I discussed.
“At least you’ll still get paid,” she says. “But what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. And the thing is, Steph, I don’t know if I care.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not worried in the least. I know that I can do the guest appearance thing from time to time. That doesn’t sound bad at all.”
“But it’s not full time.”
I shake my head and push my hand through my hair. “I just love the idea of not being under a contract for a while. There’s a lot of pressure involved with the contract. I have to maintain a certain look.”
“Are you going to let yourself go?”
“No. But if I decide I don’t want to shave for a week, I don’t have to. There’s really no pressure, and it’s a nice change.
“Not to mention, I’ve been telling Mia for the past two weeks that she’s too much of a control freak when it comes to work. She works too hard and too long, and that she should be able to relax a bit.”
“Did she introduce you to the kettle?”
“Exactly. I’m the same. I’ve worked hard for years, and I’ve been rewarded handsomely. I don’t want to retire. But it’s okay to slow down a bit, isn’t it? To actually enjoy what I’ve earned?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“I mean, I could make Portland home base, and if I get called for guest appearances, I can travel. And who says I have to stay in show business? I could teach.”
“Wait. Back it up. You want to stay in Portland? Talk to me, Cam.”
I look up at the ceiling and rub my fingers over my lips. “Mia’s pretty incredible.”
“Are you . . . What are you doing, exactly?”
“You don’t want to know what, exactly, we’re doing.”
“Yuck.”
I laugh and then shrug. “Am I stupid?”
“Yes.” Her eyes are full of humor and love as she smiles at me. “Okay, you’re not really stupid. But I need more information.”
“When it comes to Mia, I’m just . . . well, I’m enamored by her. She makes me laugh, she challenges me. She’s so beautiful.”
“You’re falling in love with her,” she says, and I pause.
“I care about her.”
“I know, Camden Sawyer doesn’t use the L word.” She rolls her eyes and sighs deeply. “But that’s what this is, Cam.”
“Am I stupid?” I ask again.
“Why are you asking me that?”
“Because I’m investing a lot of myself into this again. I couldn’t stop myself if I wanted to, Steph. It’s as if I’m supposed to be with her. But I also can’t help but wonder if I’m just a chump. I mean, she could run again. Maybe not tomorrow, or even next week. But there could come a day when I come home and she’s gone. And I don’t know if I would survive it again. I hate how weak I sound saying that, but it’s true.”
“Have your communication skills improved?” she asks gently. “That’s never been your strong suit.”
“Just because I don’t tell everyone that I love them all the time doesn’t mean I don’t show them that I care. Actions speak louder than words, remember?”
“A woman needs the words, Camden,” she says. “Whether you believe it or not, she does. You didn’t say it long ago, and she thought that meant that you didn’t care if she stayed or left. It’s as simple as that. I’m not saying you should say it if you don’t mean it, but if you do mean it, what’s the harm? Why is it so fucking hard for you? I tell you I love you all the time, but I don’t think you’ve ever said it back to me.”
“Of course I love you,” I reply with frustration. Tears spring to her eyes, and I feel like a grade A asshole. “Steph, you know I love you.”
“But there’s nothing like hearing it,” she replies. “I don’t know how Mia feels. I have no way of knowing what’s going on in her head. Could she bail? Sure. Anyone could, Cam. You really need to talk to Mia about this. Especially if you’re considering a move to Portland. I wouldn’t do that until you’ve defined what this relationship is.”
“I would marry her again tomorrow,” I reply truthfully. “She’s an exceptional woman.”
“I’m happy for you,” she says. “I truly am. Maybe the time is right now. Maybe you both needed to grow up and experience some life so you’d appreciate each other even more when you finally found each other again.”
“Now you’re making it sound like a movie.”
“Hey, I like a good rom-com.” She smiles. “Since the job thing isn’t a financial issue for you, and it really is all about this woman and what may or may not come of your relationship with her, you need to have a conversation. You might even have to use the L word, Cam.”
“Yeah.” I sigh and push my fingers through my hair again. “You’re right. You know, I don’t know why it’s hard for me to use that word.
”
“I’m not a shrink, but I suspect it has to do with Mom and Dad dying. And some people are just not good at using their words.” She shrugs. “I don’t know. But if you’re going to be with Mia, you’re going to have to tell her how you feel.”
“Okay. Thanks for listening, Dr. Steph.”
“You’re welcome. Keep me posted. This is better than TV.”
“I’m happy to entertain.” I end the call and glance at the clock. Mia still has a long workday ahead, and I want to talk to her right now. Not gonna happen. So instead I head to the gym for the first time in more than a week to work off some of my aggression, and figure out what I’m going to say to Mia later tonight.
I haven’t seen Mia since this morning, and I miss her. Today was productive, however. I spent two hours at the gym, and I felt better than ever when I was finished. No more skipping exercise.
I caught up on laundry and paid bills. I spoke with my CPA.
I received a call from a woman that I casually dated for a time in L.A., and had the unpleasant task of telling her to not call me anymore.
She wasn’t pleased.
I didn’t give a fuck.
And then I got to work baking Mia’s favorite cheesecake and ordering flowers to be delivered to the restaurant.
The cheesecake took all fucking day. The recipe is challenging and time consuming, but it always turns out better than if I try to cut corners with a simpler recipe. This is her favorite, so this is what she’ll have.
At around nine thirty, I send her a text and ask her to let me know when she’s home. I could meet her at Seduction, but I’ll still have to follow her home. This is easier.
At ten thirty, I get a reply.
Just walked in the door. Is everything okay?
She’s a thoughtful woman. An empathetic one. She takes on the feelings of those around her, and I know that it just adds to her stress. As much as she’d like everyone to think she’s a grouchy hard-ass, that actually couldn’t be farther from the truth.
Everything is fine. I’m going to head your way.
A second later she replies with, The door is unlocked.
I load up the cake and make it to her place in record time. I’m excited to see her.
I’m whipped.
I knock once on the door and then open it, smiling at Mia, who’s curled up in the corner of her couch. She’s grinning sleepily.
“What do you have there?” she asks.
“Cheesecake.”
Her eyes widen in surprise and hope. “The super hard one you learned to make in school?”
“That’s the one.”
“Oh my God.” She jumps up and practically yanks it out of my hands, then lifts her face up for a kiss. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t say it’s for you.”
“You’d better plan on sharing,” she replies as she walks ahead of me to the kitchen. “Also, thank you so much for the beautiful flowers today. They were a fun treat, too.”
“Where are they?”
“In the bedroom.” She smiles as she pulls two plates out of the cupboard. “I want to smell them in there.”
“I didn’t know if you were a flower lover. Some women think they’re a waste of money.”
“I’m not one of those women. You’ve seen my garden.” She holds a knife over the cake and looks back at me. “Is it okay if I cut this?”
“I made it to be eaten.”
“Well, maybe you didn’t intend for me to eat it tonight.”
“That would be cruel and unusual to bring it over and expect you to wait until tomorrow to eat it. I’m not a monster.”
“Oh thank God,” she says and cuts us each a piece, slides them onto plates, and passes me mine with a fork. “Is this salted caramel on top?”
“Of course.”
“You’re spoiling me,” she says with a smile and takes a bite. “You’ve gotten even better at this.”
I set my plate aside without taking a bite, happy to watch her eat hers. I lean my hips against the counter and cross my arms over my chest. “You’re beautiful, Mia.”
She pauses mid-bite, the fork still in her mouth, and watches me for a moment; then resumes, chewing on the cake. “Something’s up with you today.”
“There’s nothing up. Really.”
“Flowers. Cheesecake. Telling me I’m beautiful.”
“Because you are beautiful.”
She frowns and looks back down at her cake, then sets it aside and wipes her mouth on a napkin. Without a word, she walks to me and hugs me tightly. My arms circle around her and I hold on.
“There’s something off with you tonight. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I am,” I reply and kiss her head. “I just needed to hold you. And maybe do something nice for you today. You deserve it.”
She leans back and smiles up at me. Her face has softened, and I can see it written all over her gorgeous face.
She loves me.
And I love her too.
“How was your day?”
“I had an awesome day,” she says. “I hired someone. This super-sexy guy I know sent me flowers and made me cheesecake. I mean, it doesn’t get better than that.”
“I’m glad.” I back her up until she’s caged against the counter and bury my face in her neck. “I need you tonight, Mia.”
“I’m right here,” she says, burying her fingers in my hair. Her hands glide soothingly down my back and up again. “I’m right here.”
I take her hand and lead her to her bedroom. Just as she reaches to pull her shirt over her head, I stop her. “Wait.”
“What?”
“Tonight is about going slow.”
“We always take it slow, Cam.”
“I guess we do. I enjoy taking my time with you.” I drag my thumb down her cheek to her lips. She sticks her tongue out, brushing the pad of my thumb, and it makes my dick stand at attention. “Taking it fast would be such a waste.”
“Why?”
“Because then I wouldn’t get to see this.”
Chapter Eleven
~Mia~
The way he looks at me makes the tiny hairs all over my body stand on end. His eyes are on fire as he looks me up and down, still clothed, and his hands travel down my arms to hold my hands.
“What do you see?” I whisper.
“Your body come alive,” he says. “The more turned on you get, the faster you breathe. Your cheeks flush. You bite that fucking sexy bottom lip of yours.”
I grin and do exactly that, then let my head fall back and moan when his hands travel under my shirt. His hands glide up my sides and he cups my breasts over my bra.
“Your nipples harden.”
“Of course they do,” I reply as if in a trance. “You’re touching them.”
His eyes narrow as he pulls my shirt up over my head and drops it to the floor beside us. He slips a finger under my bra strap and tugs it to the side, then kisses me there.
“Your skin is so damn soft.”
His eyes are pinned to mine as he slowly and methodically peels me out of my clothes. I’m standing here—naked as can be—and he’s clearly turned on by it, if the bulge against his jeans is any indication.
“Soft skin,” he murmurs again. “Gorgeous curves. Amazing smile.” He moves closer and kisses me while his hands slide down my back to my ass. He slips a finger down my ass and finds my wet core. “I fucking love your pussy.”
“As you can see, it loves you too.” I grin as he sheds his clothes and reaches out for me. We tumble onto the bed, but rather than let him cover me, I push his shoulder back and climb on top of him. I straddle him and rub myself against his hard cock, reveling in how amazing he feels against my wetness.
“Fucking hell, Mia,” he moans. His hands are on my hips, but I’m controlling the movement. I know he wants to take it slow, so I move deliberately and smile in satisfaction when he sucks a breath in through his gritted teeth.
“Do you like that?”
&nbs
p; “Fuck.” I reach for a condom, take my time rolling it over the length of him, then rise up and take just the tip inside of me, clench my muscles, and then slide all the way down until he’s impaled me completely. “Jesus, baby.”
I lean down and kiss him. His hands cup my jaw, and his hips begin to move with mine.
“You just . . . I—”
He closes his eyes and shakes his head.
“I don’t know how to say it.”
“Don’t say it,” I reply and begin to ride him faster now. I think this man loves me. I can see it in his eyes when he looks at me. When he laughs with me. When he touches me.
All day long, it felt like he was telling me he loves me. The flowers, delicate pink peonies, were perfect. His sweet text messages, asking me if I’m having a good day. The selfie he sent me from the gym, which I admit completely turned me on. The cheesecake.
I just can’t ask for more than that.
The room is warm and bathed in low light from my lamp. His eyes are pinned to mine as I move at a faster pace now, enjoying the way he feels. How he makes me feel. He finds my clit with his thumb, and I’m done for. Every muscle in my body tightens, my skin tingles as I come apart. He pulls me down on him, firmly grinding against me, as he comes with me.
I fall onto the bed beside him to catch my breath. He chuckles and rolls to his side, his head braced on his hand and smiles down at me.
“That was fun.”
“Oh yeah.” I nod and reach for the covers.
“Are you cold? I think it’s hot in here.”
“It’s warm,” I agree. “But I’m naked and the lights are on.”
He rolls his eyes and flings the covers away. “I’ve seen it all, and I love it all. No need to cover up unless you’re cold.”
I turn on my side to face him. “You’re very bossy in bed.”
“Always have been,” he agrees. “Does it bother you?”
“You would think it would,” I say thoughtfully. “I don’t usually like to be told what to do.”
“You’re an independent woman,” he says, but not in a mocking or condescending way.
“Yes, and I can be bossy too. But I don’t mind at all when you take over in the bedroom.”
“What about the bathroom? Or the kitchen?”