The Real(51)

“Thank you,” I said before I pressed the flower to my nose and inhaled. “I meant to ask you, of all the flowers you left at my table, why did you decide to send roses?”

He rubbed one of the delicate petals between his fingers. “It was the only flower you picked up first, instead of an afterthought, before you left the coffee shop. I knew then they were your favorite.”

“I didn’t even know they were my favorite.” I sighed as he traced my neck with his lips. “You really are the king of woo.”

“King of woo?” he repeated in question, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah,” I said softly, “you earned it. So, what’s on the docket today?”

“Well, first I’m going to ruin all your hard work,” he said, reaching for the buttons on my shirt and freeing them before he slowly pushed the fabric away so it slid off of my shoulders. Eyes intent on mine, my nipple peaked under the careful trace of his finger.

“King of woo,” he said softly, his tickled grin showcasing the divots at the corners of his mouth. “I like it.”

I said his name on a prayer when he took the stiff peak in his mouth.

Wordless, he gently pushed me beneath him and sank between my thighs. I locked my legs around him while he lined himself up at my entrance and held his weight above me. His sculpted chest on display, my greedy fingers explored.

Pushing in slightly, he watched my reaction to him as the buzz between us increased.

“Damn,” he grunted as I tightened around him. His lips parted as he thrust in further.

“I knew it.”

“Knew what?” I rasped out as he pressed me into the mattress, making sure I felt every inch of him.

“Maybe I didn’t know, but I had a feeling,” he whispered before his mouth took mine and he buried himself. No further explanation needed.





I was doing it. I was running in the woods, and it wasn’t because I was being pursued by a mass murderer, which was a definite bonus. Cameron had dressed me that morning in one of his thick sweaters that hung down past my knees. I also had my leggings, coat, scarf, gloves, and snow boots on. I looked ridiculous, but I was warm, and getting warmer as we ran through the woods.

After only a week, with Cameron’s encouragement, I was getting to the point that I could keep his pace despite his longer stride, though I was sure he made allowances. But I’d been speed walking around Chicago for a little over ten years, so I already had a fair amount of stamina. And it helped. I was becoming a runner, and the knowledge of that had me blissful as he glanced back at me with a smile.

We didn’t venture far. Cameron told me he wasn’t pushing his luck. But he did bring me to a break in the trees the led to a breathtaking view of a large pond. Surrounded in a winter wonderland, I appreciated everything about the silence that engulfed us. It was a picture-perfect storybook type of isolation with the only person in the world I would want to share it with.

“Not so bad, is it?” he asked, looking back at me as I scoured the sight in front of us.

“It’s beautiful,” I answered, catching my breath before walking toward a small dock.

“There’s a little boat out in the shed next to the house. I saw it last night when I was grilling. I’ll bring you back here this summer and you can read me poetry or Jane Austen, while I row you around.”

“Let’s not get too carried away, Casanova.”

“Too late,” he said as his eyes swept over me. “Too fucking late.” He tugged at my hand, pulling me to him. “You can’t run too much in those boots. It’s not good for you.”

“I know. I just don’t want to break the routine.”

“I’m proud of you. You don’t even look like you want to kick my ass when I show up at your door in the morning.”

“Oh, but I still do,” I said as we shared a grin.

“And it’s just the beginning. Wait until you run your first 5K,” he said with a wink.

A rush of emotion swept over me as I looked up at him.

“What are you thinking?”

I swallowed.

“Okay,” he said playfully, “now I have to know.”

“I don’t know how to say this without geeking out.”

“Abbie, you can tell me anything.”

“It’s just . . .” I frowned to keep my chin from wobbling, but the tears sprang up anyway.

“Baby, what is it?” he asked, his hands cupping my face.

“It’s like when people say they can’t swim, I have a hard time believing them because it came so naturally to me. Some people are terrified of the water, and treading it seems simplistic. I mean, it’s not exactly swimming, but it serves the purpose. For most, it’s like a natural reflex. But treading water isn’t swimming.”

“Okay,” he said, biting his lip.

“Okay, so, shit.” A tear fell, and before I could wipe it away, he leaned in and took it with his lips as my heart swelled.

“I feel like before I met you, I was treading water and . . . God, am I making any sense right now?”

“Perfect sense,” he said softly.

“It’s not just running, Cameron. It’s us too.”

“I feel the same, more than I can explain. More than you could ever know.” He searched my eyes. “Why couldn’t I have met you ten years ago?” he added, taking me by surprise. “What were you doing when you were twenty-three, Abbie?”