Except for brewing beer, as it also turned out. I’d had a sip of the Josie’s Jostler and let’s say it was so hazy I could have chewed on it. I wasn’t an expert on craft beer, and had always favored wine, but I didn’t think a hazy IPA was supposed to work like that.
Not that the crowd in attendance seemed to care. The Josie’s Jostler stand had been just as busy as the rest. I wouldn’t use the word packed—by my or any standards—but busy enough for Cameron to do most of the work and relegate me to token duty. That, unfortunately, had involved more sleeve-rolling, forearm unveiling, and muscle flexing when lifting glasses and exchanging barrels. At some point, I realized I’d been staring at one of his forearms—at that one specific inked spot left of his wrist—so hard and long that I had forgotten to collect tokens. So I’d thrown in a few dollars from my pocket and continued my ogling.
That was when he’d produced a beanie from a secret pocket in his flannel jacket.
I despised flannel, beanies, and secret pockets now.
That was why the moment the first five notes to “Boogie Wonderland” from the improvised stage hit and most people shifted in the direction of the band, I ran away.
Yes. I was officially hiding. From Cameron, not the boogie.
I was at the far end of the BBBBL premises, near the lake, with the not one but two goats María had brought with her as my only company. And if a ghost was to come out and lure me and the goats into the woods, I’d go gladly.
Brandy bleated from her spot at my feet. And just like every time she’d done that in the fifteen minutes I’d been here, Tilly stirred in response.
“You two need to stop that,” I whispered, obtaining another two baas. “No. Shush.”
I glanced over my shoulder, checking the crowd for a specific set of green eyes, dark beard, and beanie. Not a trace of him. Good. I returned my gaze forward, just in time for a gust of chilly air to hit me in the face and make me curl into myself.
The tweed suit was the warmest outfit I had, but Josie had been right, now that the sun was setting, it hadn’t been the smartest choice. Not that any in my wardrobe would have.
“But that’s okay,” I muttered under my breath, thinking back to Cameron’s beanie. And boots. And jeans. And flannel jacket. And how warm he must be. Maybe I should go by Outdoor Moe’s and get myself a beanie. Brandy nudged my leg with her head. “I know. I don’t think I could pull off a beanie either.” I could maybe do flannel. I sighed. “He could have at least left the jacket before leaving.”
“Who left?”
I almost fell off the rock I’d been sitting on. “Jesus,” I muttered, turning my head and finding that mountain of padded flannel a few feet to my left.
Cameron’s brows knotted under his stupid, silly beanie. “Jesus left?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but another gust of air picked up, stopping my words and sending a shiver to crawl down my spine. I curled my arms around my middle and gave him a shrug.
If Cameron cared about the lack of confirmation from my side, he didn’t say. Instead he crossed the distance separating us and planted himself right beside me. My eyes dipped low, to his forearms. His sleeves were down, thank God. His hands, however, were hanging between his legs. Relaxed. Rough. Large. That signet on his pinky. Ugh. What was wrong with me? I couldn’t hyperfixate on every body part this man flung in front of me.
Tilly, who based on her size looked younger than Brandy, trotted to Cameron’s side, providing a welcome distraction. He stiffened.
“You can go,” I muttered. Offered, really. Because he’d be doing us both a favor. I couldn’t hide from him if he was here.
“It’s just a goat,” he answered. Hadn’t those been his exact words at yoga? “Two goats. And one is tiny.”
Something else he said came to mind. We’re all afraid of something in this life.
“I promised María I’d keep them company,” I told him, just so I wouldn’t think of that.
“Looked to me like you were avoiding me,” Cameron said, making my heart drop. “And came to the place you knew I would stay away from.”
My throat worked, a new shiver that had nothing to do with the cold sneaking down my back. “Looks to me like someone believes he’s the center of the universe.” The warmth returned to my face. “I was getting away from the music. It’s not very good, in case you haven’t noticed.”
As if in cue, the music came to a stop and the crowd erupted in applause.
Brandy tensed at my feet, making me remember María’s words about the goat suffering from anxiety and being triggered by loud noises. A warm shoulder came into contact with mine when Tilly bleated from Cameron’s side.
He was inching away from the tiny goat.
I cleared my throat.
“I’m fine,” he grunted. But he really wasn’t. And as warm as his side was and as much as the chill in my body was somehow appeased, I still felt bad. Responsible, for a reason I didn’t understand. I opened my mouth, but Cameron spoke. “I lived on a farm for a while. When I was a boy.”
Oh. That information seemed to lodge itself somewhere inside my head, as if it was important. Worth remembering. “In England,” I clarified. Which was redundant because we both knew that.
But Cameron nodded anyway. “My nonna hated it, though. So we moved back to the city.”
I remembered his comment about being raised by his grandmother. I realized I remembered everything that left this man’s mouth. “Are you two close?”
“Were,” he answered, looking over at me. “She passed before I signed for the Islington West.”
His first club.
I stared into Cameron’s eyes, getting a little lost in how open, naked his expression was in this moment. There was yearning in his face. A little sadness, too.
“I never had the chance to meet any of my grandparents,” I heard myself say. “My mother is originally from Cuba, and she came to the US a few years before I was born. She left everyone and everything behind. My father’s parents… died when he was young.” Cameron’s brows furrowed. “I haven’t experienced that kind of bond, but I genuinely believe your grandmother would be proud of you.” I felt myself swallow. “Anyone would be.”
His head tilted, his eyes leaving mine and roaming all over my face for a moment that seemed to stretch too long. There was something new there, in his expression. Something that had nothing to do with sadness. Something that made me shift in place.
“My nonna arrived in England with the change in her pocket and a handful of jewelry that wasn’t worth much,” Cameron offered, raising his hand and showing me his pinky. “This is the piece she treasured the most. It belonged to her father, and my own dad gave it to me when I turned eighteen.” He exhaled through his nose, slowly. As if he needed the time. “This is all I have left from her, my roots. That, a head full of dark hair, and a ragù recipe she used to make for celebrations or bad days.”
A tsunami of questions swept through me as we sat there, on that rock, in silence, with the boogie beats echoing across the lake. And, God, I’d never wanted to ask every single one of them so bad in my life. I wanted to forget I’d been hiding from Cameron and I didn’t really like him. I wanted to pretend he didn’t think I was some annoying spoiled woman he had to put up with and ask all about him.
“You do have great hair.”
Cameron chuckled. And that chuckle didn’t help. The way he was looking at me didn’t, either.
I faced away, another shiver rocking me head to toe as much as the skin of my face was burning with… whatever I was feeling.
Something fell on my shoulders.
It was heavy and soft and warm. It was padded flannel.
“Cameron—”
“Don’t,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s cold. And you’ve been shivering all night.”
My lips popped open. I wanted to complain. But he was right, and for once, I didn’t think I had the energy to fight. I inhaled deeply, tiredly, burrowing myself into his jacket. I filled my lungs with his scent.
“Thanks,” I breathed out, ignoring how unbelievably good it—he—smelled. “I… appreciate this expression of human decency on your side. And accept it.”