I rip my gaze from his because it feels wrong to be so close to him, to not be fighting—for me to want to inch even closer to him. “From far away, you’d think the two of them are in love and are happy, but that doesn’t seem to be the whole story once you get closer and start taking in all of the details.”
I look at where, somehow on such a small scale, you can see the way the fingertips dig into skin. I marvel at the attention to detail of the artist. The way you can tell they cling to each other like their lives depend on it.
Camden is silent. So silent that my cheeks begin to flush because I wonder if I’m making any kind of sense at all. My skin feels hot as I push stray pieces of hair from my face, needing to give my body something to do once I realize I’ve been rambling.
“Sorry,” I mumble, feeling embarrassed for the first time in my life. “I’m probably not making any sense.”
“No.” I wish I knew how he kept his voice so cool and collected. It’s smooth like velvet, wrapping around me. “You make perfect sense. What makes you think that?”
“It’s the desperate way they cling together. They grasp at one another too tightly to be fully happy. Something is ripping them apart. I wish I knew what…”
“What if the sculptor didn’t want you to know what it was? Maybe they wanted you to come up with the answers yourself. Maybe they wanted to make you think about what things in life could rip you apart from someone you love so deeply.”
An uninvited thought creeps into my mind. Has Camden ever loved somebody like this? Has anybody ever loved him? He doesn’t seem like the type to get involved. He seems too selfish to love someone, but he’s so breathtaking I could see why women could fall for him before he ever uttered a word to them—then they’d learn about his horrid personality, and hopefully, they’d run for the hills.
But has anyone gotten through his rough exterior?
“Tell me this isn’t the time that you shut your mouth for once.” His verbal jab brings me back to my senses. I’m thankful for the snarky tone to his voice, for things to go back to normal between us. I was too far deep in wondering why Camden is the way he is.
“Just when I think you might not be the biggest asshole I’ve ever met, you prove me wrong.”
He gives me a wolfish grin. “Come to New York. You’ll meet men far worse than me, shortcake.”
“Yeah, I’ll pass. You’re a dick for no reason. I have no desire to meet anyone worse than you.”
“What if I apologized?” His words come as a shock. I can’t imagine him apologizing. I don’t know if I want him apologizing. It’s easier to hate him, to remind myself that even through the charm he sometimes shows me, deep down he’s an asshole. At least, that’s what I choose to believe.
“I wouldn’t believe it.”
He nods, looking back at the sculpture in front of us. “It’s time I get back to my opening.”
My eyes go wide because I’d totally forgotten why we were here in the first place. I’m supposed to be serving food. He’s supposed to be selling art—even though the most stunning piece I’ve seen tonight is the one not for sale in front of us.
“Right.” I rush to get out. In my attempts to scurry out of the office, I almost run right into him. We both move to the left at the same moment, our bodies narrowly colliding with one another.
Camden grabs me by the arms to steady me. He opens his mouth to say something, but I beat him to it.
“Before you say anything, that was your fault, not mine.”
A chuckle rumbles deep in his chest. “I was going to say thank you for saving me tonight. People might be talking about the food more than the art.”
The fact that he’s not being a total jerk disarms me. “Yeah, of course.” I fumble on my words, not knowing how to respond to him. I was expecting an insult, for him to comment on how I ran into him again.
I don’t say anything else. I book it out of the room as my mind races about what just happened.
Did Camden Hunter just say something nice to me?
11
CAMDEN
I take a second before going back to the event. Pippa walked out the door a few minutes ago, yet I haven’t moved since she left. It still smells like her in my office, the scent of her surrounding me, even though I’d prefer it not to. I don’t like how she smells unlike any woman I know. I’m used to the scent of a few different expensive perfumes. All women in my circle wear the same handful of fragrances. They’re either way too flowery or way too overpowering.
Pippa doesn’t smell like either. Everywhere she goes, she leaves the scent of vanilla and strawberries. I find myself taking a deep inhale, hating myself for wanting to get another waft of her.
I stare ahead of me at the statue in the corner of my office. It’s something I almost didn’t bring with me from Manhattan. It wasn’t intended to be sold; there was no reason for me to bring it with me. But I couldn’t help it.
And now after watching Pippa marvel at it, I’m wondering if maybe it has a chance to sell. Maybe I should give it a chance.
I’m so lost in thought that I don’t even notice the door to my office opening. I don’t see the person until he comes to a stop in front of me, softly clearing his throat to get my attention.
“Everything okay in here?” Beck asks, looking at me with concern.
My back straightens as I look up to make eye contact with him. He watches me warily, which I don’t blame him for. He witnessed me kick out a man who is very prominent in our social circle and then disappear, pulling someone by the arm into my office. It probably doesn’t add up to him.
I let out a slow breath. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
He chuckles, running a hand over his mouth. I hate it, but he’s known me almost my entire life. Beck can read me like a damn book, no matter how much I hate it. We’ve had the same friend group since we were in school, but he and I have always been the closest. He’s my best friend. Which is great occasionally, but times like right now, it’s rather inconvenient.
“Because you basically just told someone who spends a lot of money on art to fuck right off.”
“I don’t want his money,” I snarl.
Beck’s hands come up in front of him defensively. “Calm down.” He laughs. “I gathered that by the way you basically shoved him out the door, no matter who was watching.”
“He’s an asshole.”
“Everyone here is an asshole,” Beck responds.
I throw a dirty look his way. I hate that he has a response for everything. Apparently, I need to find a friend who doesn’t like to talk at all.
“I should probably go back out there and make money off the assholes.”
“Probably should. Although I know Margo is doing a great job out there in your absence.”
This makes me laugh. Margo is my most profitable artist. I wouldn’t tell her this, but I also consider her one of my closest friends, even though we work together. Margo’s hard to not like. Plus, she makes Beck happy. He’ll always be an asshole in my mind, but he’s a lot more tolerable to be around now that he finally has his girl and they’re happily married.
“Maybe I’ll just let Margo take over the gallery, and I’ll ride off into the sunset.”
Beck crosses his arms over his chest, the humor wiping straight from his face. “Not going to happen. She works too much for my liking anyway.”
“Says the guy who is constantly working.” Beck is the CEO and creator of Sintech Cyber Security. He doesn’t fully know how to take a day off, even though he may tell you otherwise.
“Right back at you, Hunter. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you weren’t always working.”