The Paid Bridesmaid(16)

My phone dinged with a notification and I flipped it on to see the final score of the Michigan game. Yes! They’d won! That meant they were moving on in the March Madness tournament.

“Is this seat taken?” a man asked, and I looked up to see that it was Camden.

I had this strange mixture of emotions—I was internally celebrating over the Michigan win, annoyed that Camden had found me and was looking too handsome for his own good in a green linen shirt that matched his eyes, and . . . excited to see him again. Like I’d spent so much time thinking about him that I was happy he was here and I got to see his face.

Weird.

I should have told him to go. Instead I said, “I was saving it for Ben Barnes, but he looks like a no-show.”

Camden sat next to me on the sofa, closer than was necessary. I could feel warmth radiating from him and smell that delicious clean scent of his. I was tempted to get up and walk away but Irene would be coming back and I didn’t want her to think I’d abandoned her.

“What are you up to?” he asked.

I held up my phone. “Checking the scores.”

“For?”

“The game.”

“Which one?”

His constant, persistent questions made me briefly wonder how many years I’d get for assault. “Michigan.”

“Please tell me you’re not a Michigan fan.”

The disdain in his voice was obvious. “Let me guess, Ohio State fan?”

“My dad ran track at Ohio State,” he said.

“My dad went to Michigan.” We sounded like little kids on a playground comparing whose father was better.

He nodded, looking far too amused. “I think this means we can’t be friends anymore. Our houses are at war. Like Romeo and Juliet.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, we weren’t friends to begin with.”

Camden put his arm across the back of the sofa and I could feel the heat of it next to my shoulders. “Are you really a fan or are you one of those girls who pretends to like sports?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you one of those guys who thinks it’s his job to gatekeep fandoms?”

At that he grimaced. “I’m sorry. My friend Vance is huge into fantasy football and he dated a girl who said she was into it and it was all a ruse and she was using him.”

I briefly wondered if Vance was the lead engineer that Sadie had mentioned, the one who a spy had used to try to get info about Camden’s company. “So now you’re worried that every girl who says she likes something is a liar?”

“It’s probably more sports specific.”

“If you need me to rattle off rebounds or steals or assists for the Michigan team, I can do that.”

He raised his eyebrows. “That would be impressive.” But his tone indicated that it was more than just impressive. Like he would find that . . . attractive. “Again, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be that guy.”

“That’s good, because you were basically in the running to be the CEO of That Guy Incorporated.”

I wondered if me saying CEO would be a red flag for him, but he barely seemed to notice. Maybe I shouldn’t be trying to mess with him. He had apologized, after all.

That impressed me. In the regular sense of the word and in the I-found-it-attractive sense of the word.

Then, like he was trying to change the subject away from the uncomfortableness of supporting rival schools, he said, “You know, we never did get to talk about our mutual maid of honor and best man responsibilities last night.”

“That’s because one of us was busy cheating at a board game and taking multiple phone calls on his antique from the Civil War.”

He grinned at me. “You say cheating, I say ensuring victory.” Then he added, “Potato, tomato,” with a wink and I admit it, I melted a little.

I knew he was flirting with me because he was trying to get me to reveal that I wanted to steal from his company. I knew this, and I was still falling for his act. I wondered what that said about me.

Or maybe it said more about him. That he was very charming and good at making women fall in love with him. I found myself wanting him to drop his arm around me and pull me in close.

Determined to go back to my original course of action and ignore him instead of engaging with him in his game, I pointedly looked at my phone. I started scrolling mindlessly through the scores of other games but I wasn’t paying attention.

“I like college basketball, too,” he said. “In case I didn’t make that clear earlier. I’ve got tickets to the National Championship.”

I was torn between wanting to tell him to be quiet and asking him about those tickets. Like exactly how many he had and what he wanted in return for one of them. Whether he might accept a firstborn child as payment. I continued my silence, thumbing across the screen of my phone.

“So . . . I’m getting the feeling you don’t want to talk to me.” He said this with a hint of disbelief, as if such a thing were impossible. That he was irresistible.

Which I got, because trust me, it wasn’t easy. “Thanks for picking up on my blatant social cues.”

My sarcasm might have chased a less determined man away, but Camden stayed put and smiled at me.

And I liked that he did.

Ugh.

Now I felt bad for being snarky when he was at least pretending to be polite. “Do you have a question for me?”