The Pucking Wrong Man: A Hockey Romance (The Pucking Wrong Series Book 4)
Chapter 8

Madame Leclerc entered the room, gliding regally as she walked as if she was on a wheeled platform instead of her feet. She clapped her hands loudly once, even though she’d had our attention the second she’d come into the room. “I have incredible news. The Company has procured a new donor for the upcoming show.”

My heart flipped in my chest. A new donor could mean a new scholarship, potentially. With my performance the other night…maybe there would be a chance…I would just have to give the best performance of my life at the upcoming tryouts for the next showcase. With a scholarship I could maybe afford a small apartment—in the bad part of town yes—but that would be no problem. I mentally started to go over the dance I’d put together for tryouts, tuning Madame Leclerc out until a name she was saying caught my attention.

“Camden James from the Dallas Knights has taken an interest in the arts. Evidently, he was at our performance the other night and was very impressed with our work. We haven’t had this type of donor before, but I’m hopeful that it will lead to even more fruitful relationships in the future.”

The room immediately erupted, everyone around me whispering in excitement.

“He’s so fucking hot,” Alena gasped next to me, pulling at my arm eagerly.

I gaped at her, sure I hadn’t heard right. Camden James was the new donor?

And the Dallas Knights? They were a professional hockey team, right? So that meant Camden was a freaking NHL player?

The room suddenly seemed to be spinning around me.

His words the other night haunted me, walking through my head any time I wasn’t distracting myself.

“It’s just…I saw a literal angel performing the other night, and I couldn’t help but want to meet you.”

From the second I’d seen him, there’d been something about him that had made me feel safe.

I didn’t think it was possible to be just friends with someone like that, though, and as with every other person I’d had in my life—he’d soon realize I wasn’t the kind of friend anyone could ever want.

A famous hockey player…and me. That was the biggest joke I’d ever heard.

Nothing about us went together. Everything about me was broken.

It was a good thing that I’d pushed him away, just like I pushed everyone away.

It was the best thing for him.

And me.

I’d survived a million terrible things in my life, but I wasn’t sure that I could survive him.

And now replaceing out that he was basically a celebrity…

“As part of this new collaboration, the Company will be attending Mr. James’s match on Saturday.” She clapped again—for some unknown reason—and left the room without another word.

I didn’t think you called it a “match” in hockey—my French ballet instructor was definitely not an expert in the sport.

Not that I was an expert either…I’d seen zero games in my entire life. The only reason I even knew the name was because of the huge parade they’d had a couple of seasons ago when the Knights had won the Stanley Cup.

The whole city had gone crazy about it.

A little thrill ran through me thinking about seeing him play. He was so big…so strong. I could only imagine what he would look like out there on the ice.

But, it probably wasn’t a good thing for me to go—seeing as I’d decided to stay away from him. Considering Madame Leclerc saw me as a liability and a burden to the Company…I wasn’t going to be telling her that, though.

The class was still going crazy over the news. Girls…and a few guys practically squealing as they talked about the game. Dallon, one of the Company’s principal dancers, winked at me from across the room, and I quickly went back to stretching, nodding as Alena planned out what she was going to wear…in detail.

None of us were going to be able to concentrate for the rest of class.

If Camden James was doing this to get my attention, he’d certainly gotten it.

I just hadn’t figured out what his angle was yet.

Every person had an angle. Every person wanted something from you.

Usually, I could figure out what that was.

Men typically wanted me for my pretty face, or they thought they could take advantage of me. In this case I couldn’t even say it was for either of those reasons—a god like that could snap, and anyone he wanted would come falling to his feet, swearing eternal devotion in exchange for his attention.

So, what did he want?

“Do you need a ride to the game tomorrow?” Dallon asked, suddenly appearing next to me. I blinked and realized I’d been holding this stretch for an awful long time.

Dallon was attractive. He was nice—to my face.

I wanted nothing to do with him.

“I’m good,” I told him, giving him the old dance smile. No one here obviously knew my living conditions. Dallon would know that I cleaned studios after class most days just because of his position, but he didn’t know where he’d have to pick me up to “give me a ride to the game.”

“We could go grab a drink beforehand,” he pressed, and my eyes widened.

I heard alot about Dallon, he’d dated all three of the female principals including Larissa Deletare, the Company’s prima ballerina.

It had caused a lot of drama.

Good looking or not, I didn’t want any of that.

But I also didn’t want to get on his bad side.

This was not good.

The last thing I needed was to piss off one of the principals. Ballet was cutthroat. No one was there to make friends. The social hierarchy started with the principals and went down from there. If he decided I was a pariah—everyone would.

Madame Leclerc had hated my guts for years. I’d been slated to be the lead in The Nutcracker, and unfortunately, my leg had decided to give out a few days before the first performance. No amount of pushing through could get it to work. The understudy hadn’t been ready, and the show had been written up by a bunch of news sites as a failure.

She’d never forgiven me—as if it was my fault, and I’d meant for it to happen.

A few more people like her and there wouldn’t be a place for me here.

Would that be so bad, a tiny voice whispered, and I pushed that away. Without this place, without dancing…I was nothing.

“I don’t drink,” I began, noting the way his face tightened. “But I could grab something to eat.” I added the last part quickly, feeling pathetic with every syllable that crossed my lips.

Dallon’s eyes lit up at that. He brushed his light-blonde hair out of his face, and my gaze got caught on his lean muscles.

Not nearly as sexy as Camden’s.

“Oh great. There’s a pizza place by the arena, Michaelangeo’s. You like pizza?”

I opened my mouth to tell him that, actually, I hated that place. We’d once had it delivered at a Company party and I’d gotten food poisoning and been sick all night—but he cut me off before I could.

“You’ll like it. I’ve had it before. We’ll go there,” he finished confidently.

My shoulders slumped. It made sense that he wouldn’t care what I wanted to eat—this was, after all, a man who’d had no problem pitting our top three ballerinas against each other.

I was convinced now for sure that he’d be the type of guy to make my life hell if I rejected him.

“I’ll meet you there,” I told him. “Thirty minutes before the game?”

He lifted an eyebrow, his face doing that tightening thing again that told me he was annoyed. “Thirty minutes? No, meet me there at five-thirty. Two hours before the game,” he said, and my stomach tightened.

Two hours? How the hell was I going to sit with him for two hours?

Before I could say anything, he walked off, dismissing me, and even as he went, I saw him smile and wink at another dancer.

Wow. What an asshole.

At least I would get dinner that day, that was my only consolation for what I’d just agreed to. I could skip the pizza and go for a salad. A guy like that—he’d probably expect me to get a salad anyway.

I went back to stretching, deciding to table any worries about my impromptu date until Saturday.

But I couldn’t table thinking about Camden James.

Camden

Anastasia Lennox was a difficult woman to stalk.

I was waiting outside her dance studio, in the alleyway that had become like a second home to me as of late with how much time I spent there. I was being a creeper, hoping I could see her for even a minute. Finding out something about her that I could use to make her mine would even be better.

I’d been trying to replace out more information about her every free minute I had—anything to help me win her over.

I had been very unsuccessful.

Although, I had managed to get fifty of the assholes who’d followed her removed from her Instagram profile.

So, I guess that was an achievement.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I leaned back against the brick building behind me as I pulled it out and glanced at the text.

Ari: Hero, there’s a cat caught in a tree outside, better come over and save it.

Me: ?

Me: Where did you get the idea that I saved cats…

Linc: Is that a question?

Walker: It’s not a very good one.

Ari: You would say that, Disney, you simp.

Walker: I was agreeing with you!

Me: I’m still waiting to understand why I would save a cat. I don’t even like cats.

Ari: You take that back. Right now.

Linc: …

Ari: Do you have something to say, Golden Boy?

Linc: You don’t even like cats…

Ari: Oh, right.

Me: I’m unclear what the point of this conversation is.

Ari: I’m unclear why you’re in this chat, James.

Me: You literally were the one who texted me.

Ari: …

Me: I’m not saving a cat.

Linc: I guess you’re not the hero we thought you were.

Me: Well, I could save a cat.

Ari: No. Absolutely not. There cannot be two of you.

Me: Two…?

Ari: Two of you worshiping Golden Boy. It’s high time someone worshiped me.

Linc: …

Walker: …

Me: …

Me: Did I do that right?

Ari Lancaster removed you from the chat.

I huffed, but then a second later, my phone pinged again.

Lincoln Daniels added you to the chat.

A grin stretched across my face.

Me: Thanks, Daniels. You’re a man above men.

Ari: SIMP!

My phone started buzzing as Ari raged about “Golden Boy’s betrayal of the Circle” or something else equally incoherent, but I was distracted as Anastasia came down the steps of the dance studio. Straightening off the wall, I took a step further down the alley so she wouldn’t see me.

Fuck, she was beautiful. That tight spandex thing she was wearing should be illegal. What was that outfit called again? A leotard?

I was a big fan of leotards, I decided.

But I nearly ground my teeth down to dust when I noticed a group of guys following behind her.

I saw them also notice how good her ass looked.

One of the guys called out her name and she stopped and turned toward them. I slid to the edge of the building so I could hear what they were saying.

“Are you sure I can’t just pick you up on Saturday?” one of them asked, a tall, thin asshole-looking dude.

This wasn’t the first time I’d seen him talking to her.

Dallon. That was his name.

I’d searched the Company’s website to replace out who he was the first time I’d seen him staring at her outside. He was one of the principals of the company—one of the leads, so to speak.

I wanted to kill him.

Gritting my teeth, I glared at him even though he wouldn’t notice me over here. He was leaning against the railing, staring down at her from a few steps up. I stiffened, creeping even closer, dread clogging my throat. There was a buzzing sound in my head as she smiled at him.

Her going on a date before my game was not part of the plan. How had I messed it up this badly?

It was a question I found myself asking far too often lately.

“I have a few errands I need to run beforehand, so it’s just easier to meet you,” she said, shifting back and forth and biting down on her lower lip like she did when she was nervous.

And yes, I already knew that about her.

I was making a point to study her every expression.

“Fine,” the asshole huffed, rolling his eyes like he was a petulant teenager rather than the grown man he looked to be. “It’s the pizza place on the same street as the arena. Can’t miss it.”

She was already backing away as he talked, giving him a quick wave before she darted down the sidewalk away from where I was standing. This place was a perfect stakeout place because no one ever seemed to come this way…or notice me lurking.

I glanced at my phone, she only had twenty minutes to get to Charlie’s. She was cutting it close. I headed to my truck to follow after her, but then the asswipes decided to open their mouths.

“Finally got the ice queen to melt, Dallon?” one of the guys asked the tall one who had been talking to Anastasia.

I stopped in my tracks, turning slowly to look back at the group, my fists clenching at my sides.

I’d never cut out a tongue before, but I was tempted at the moment.

Once again, an impulse I’d never had before.

The dead man named Dallon smirked and nodded his head after Anastasia. “A girl like that, she’ll be desperate for it. I’ll pay for dinner. Buy her a few drinks at the game…she’ll probably let me fuck her in the backseat on the way home.” He snorted. “She’s hot enough I might even go back for seconds.”

The other two laughed like Dallon was the most hilarious guy they’d ever met, and I decided that they also looked like dead men.

Rage tore through me, and I might have blacked out for a minute. When I got a hold of myself, I realized I’d stepped out of the alleyway, ready to destroy them for talking about her like that. I held myself back as they walked off, trying to relax before I headed over to the restaurant to see Anastasia. I’d have to think of something between now and tomorrow to make sure that date didn’t happen, but right now, I had to get to my girl.

Anastasia’s eyes widened when she came out, and I was sitting at the table closest to the washroom.

“Oh, hi,” she fumbled out, water from the bin she was carrying spilling over the edges as she came to a screeching halt at the sight of me.

“Hi, little dancer,” I said, leaning back in my booth and raking my eyes over her like a man who’d been dying of thirst and finally found a pool of water. It had been eighteen minutes and thirty-two seconds since I’d seen her last.

I was fully aware that my obsession was getting out of hand.

“Stalking me now?” she asked, a small smile on her lips like she wouldn’t really mind if that was the case. I highly doubted that was actually her mindset, so I just smiled in return.

“I’ve become particularly fond of Charlie’s over the past week. I’ve developed a craving for it, you could say,” I responded lightly.

She blushed, biting down on that plump lower lip in a way that made me want to die inside because I couldn’t touch her.

“When’s your break?” I asked, when she hadn’t run away yet like she had last time.

“My break?” she stuttered.

“Yeah, I assume you have one of those?” I raised an eyebrow. “Or do I need to have a talk with your manager?”

Anastasia blinked at me, her eyes dazed and unfocused. “A talk with my manager…” She must have realized that I was not joking because she suddenly straightened. “Oh, yes, I have a break!”

“Not that you should be concerned with that.” she added after a couple of seconds, like she had just reminded herself that she needed to be on guard. Anastasia cocked her hip out and gave me a bratty look that had me wanting to push her to her knees and fuck her mouth to straighten out her newfound attitude.

Again…where the fuck had that instinct come from?

I smirked. Her attitude was cute. I had a feeling that she didn’t show that side of herself very much, and I loved that something about me made her feel comfortable enough to do that.

“Maybe I’m interested in being concerned with that,” I mused, unable to stop myself from gawking at her because she was so fucking beautiful. This was not the way to prove I wasn’t a creeper, but technically I had been creeping after her—so maybe it was a losing effort to begin with.

Anastasia opened her mouth and then closed it, clearly at a loss for words. This was becoming a pattern for us.

“Get back to work before you get into trouble, baby girl. Come sit with me during your break,” I ordered sternly. “Unless you want me to break you out of here, because then I have way cooler places we can hang out.”

Anastasia’s eyes widened, that dreamy look spreading over her features, like me getting stern was an aphrodisiac for her. She liked when I took charge. It turned her on.

I fucking loved that.

“Okay,” she finally whispered. “I mean—that’s okay. I—I’ll see you at my break.”

I nodded at her, trying to keep the crazy out of my eyes as I did so, and then I watched her walk away.

Two long hours later, after I’d filled my table with random food orders so they wouldn’t kick me out, she was finally sitting in front of me, her fingers tapping the table softly, her gaze darting around the room like it was hard for her to look at me.

Anastasia’s cheeks were slightly pink from hustling around all night, and her hair was in the same tight bun she’d been wearing at school. Pieces of her hair had fallen out, though, and my fingers itched to touch them and smooth them away from her face. I would have preferred that she sit next to me—but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“So what’s your angle here, Mr. James?” she asked, cocking her head as she finally gave me her full attention.

“My angle?”

“You’re sponsoring the Company. You gave us tickets to a game. Why would you do that?”

I was replaceing more things out about her every day that I was attracted to, but up close…her features were spellbinding. I was having a little trouble concentrating.

Camden James, pull yourself together.

I lifted an eyebrow again. “I believe that I already gave you that answer the last time you let me talk to you.”

She flushed and I grinned. I loved how responsive she was. It was impossible for her to hide from me how she was feeling. I was going to take every advantage I could get.

“So, you’re making a donation…because of me?” There was a heartbreaking edge to her tone, like the idea of that was completely out of the realm of possibility.

I leaned over the table, wishing I was closer to her, wishing I could touch her.

“Of course. I already told you how your dancing made me feel. Like I was dying and desperate and changing as I watched you because I’d never known beauty like that could actually exist.” Her face softened as I spoke, her eyes growing suspiciously shiny, like she was trying not to cry.

“You can’t say things like that,” she argued, her fingers fumbling with the napkin in front of her.

“Why not?”

“Because—because it can’t possibly be true!”

“Why can’t it?”

“You’re being difficult,” she growled, reminding me of a kitten again, trying to be fierce but looking cute instead.

“It seems like you may not have had a lot of people you can trust in your life,” I said softly, unable to stop myself from finally taking a chance and reaching out to touch her hand.

My dick hardened in my lap, and I scooted closer to the table—needing to make sure that she didn’t see.

Not sure I’d have an adequate explanation for that.

“I haven’t had any to trust,” she muttered under her breath, before squeezing her eyes closed like she couldn’t believe she’d said that out loud.

My gut tightened at her admission. It made me feel absolutely feral thinking about her being alone all this time. I was more than happy to step up, though, and be the first person to fill that role.

“Maybe it’s time to let someone in then,” I suggested, pushing my luck by trailing my fingers across her smooth skin. Her eyes flew open, and I lost my breath for a second, staring into the twin pools of blue.

“Why should it be you?” she finally whispered.

The words hung in the air, and a thousand different things flew through my head. I wanted to tell her I was going to change her life. I wanted to tell her that I would take care of her forever…that she’d never be unhappy again as long as she gave me a chance.

I wanted to tell her she didn’t have a choice.

I leaned in instead, unable to stop myself from brushing my lips across hers in a kiss that only fed the fire of the longing throbbing through my veins. “Why shouldn’t it be?”

Pulling away, she seemed like she’d literally lost her breath, as she stared at me wide-eyed. I held in my smirk. “Breathe, little dancer,” I urged, and she let out a long exhale, her blue gaze still locked on mine like she was afraid I’d disappear if she looked away.

“Breaks over,” a voice called through the charged silence between us. I reluctantly glanced beyond her to see a pink-haired woman with wrinkled skin like a walnut glaring at the two of us like we’d mortally offended her.

“I’d better get back to it,” Anastasia murmured, but she was different than she’d been before, softer almost, as if I’d managed to break through some of her walls.

I’d take it. I’d just sit here while I waited for her, bathing in the memory of what her perfect lips had felt like.

“I’ll be here when you’re done. You’re off at nine, right?”

“See, when you say things like that, I really do think you could be stalking me,” she said, some of her sass leaking back into her voice.

I winked at her, once again not responding to that because what could I say? I was her stalker.

She went back to work, and I went back to ordering a dish every hour so that I could wait for her without causing her any issues.

It was the longest two hours of my life, made worse by the fact that I’d touched her.

I’d kissed her.

And now I wanted to do it over and over again…and much, much more.

Anastasia

I couldn’t tell you what I did the rest of my shift. Usually, I knew what dishes I’d washed, what tables I’d cleaned, how many spilled drinks I’d mopped up…

I couldn’t concentrate on anything that happened for the rest of the night.

All I could think about was him.

How he’d looked. What he’d said. The way he’d touched me.

The feel of his lips against mine.

Had that really happened? Or had I hallucinated it? Any moment now, I was expecting a camera crew to pop out and tell me that I’d been “Punk’d” or something, because things like that—fairy tale kisses with gorgeous celebrities that said sweet things that made you melt—they definitely did not happen to girls like me.

This wasn’t Hollywood.

I wasn’t a princess.

And now I was quoting Taylor Swift lyrics.

That confirmed it. I had definitely imagined it all.

Except, each time I came out from the back…he was still there. Still gazing at me with that gorgeous face. Pulling me in with every smile he gifted my way.

I was surprised every single time I saw him.

“Ready to go, little dancer? You’re probably exhausted,” he said, unfolding himself easily from the bench seating despite the fact that he had to at least be six-four. That could not have been fun to sit there for the last four hours.

Camden grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door. I got about halfway there when I woke up from whatever spell he’d had me under—because what the crap was I doing?

He was going to walk me to the doors of the shelter?

Not happening. He noticed my steps had faltered and sent me a questioning glance. I didn’t want to make it a big deal since everyone in the restaurant seemed to be watching us walk out, so I pasted a smile on my face and followed him outside.

As soon as we were through the door, a chill biting into my bones as a gust of wind whipped across my face, I yanked my hand away.

“You don’t need to walk me home—and I’m pretty sure that violates all the stranger danger lectures they gave us in school,” I said, trying to sound like I was joking even as I started to walk away.

“Anastasia,” he growled, and the sound was so sexy I felt it right between my legs.

A howl split the night air and I froze, glancing around the shadows for where the sound had come from.

Deep, rough barking followed the howl, and I screamed and jumped at Camden, clawing at his shirt—only faintly aware of how muscled his chest was.

“Do you see it? Do you see the dog? Oh my gosh. Where is it?” My voice was high pitched and crazy, and I was trying to literally climb Camden’s body like a tree.

But I couldn’t help it.

I hated dogs. HATED them.

Camden’s arms wrapped around me, his voice calm but tinged with concern. “It’s probably just a stray,” he reassured me, stroking a hand soothingly down my hair.

The barking got closer, and I screamed again, tears dripping down my face. “Please get me away. Please. Please. Please.” I was trembling—shaking so hard that I bit down on my tongue, blood filling my mouth.

“Holy fuck,” Camden muttered, adjusting my body so he was cradling me against his chest as he started walking. I kept my eyes squeezed shut, holding onto his shirt for dear life as a few more barks sounded from nearby. My breath was coming out in gasps.

“How do you like it in there, little bunny? Gatsby looks awfully hungry,” Michael grinned at me demonically through the bars of the cage he’d put me in as soon as his mother and father left for the weekend.

“Please let me out,” I sobbed as “Gatsby,” Michael’s Doberman, snarled at me from the other side of the cage. Michael had chained him tightly to the cage wall across from me, so he couldn’t quite reach where I was huddled up in the corner…but it was only a matter of time before he let out the chain.

And the dog wouldn’t stop growling at me.

“But you cry so prettily,” Michael mused, settling into a chair like he was about to watch a performance.

He’d eventually gotten up because he was bored, extending Gatsby’s chain so that I only had a small sliver of the cage where I could sit, and then he’d flipped off the lights. It had been pitch black in the basement, and the dog had snarled and pulled on his chain all night, snapping at me, trying to bite me, growling. My leg had slid out from under me at one point, and he’d bit the top of my shoe when I got too close.

I’d eventually passed out from fear.

And I’d been terrified of dogs ever since.

I came back to the present in Camden’s truck, the scent of nice leather…and him…flooding my senses. I’d soaked his shirt, and I was still gripping it like it held the key to redemption.

I tried to loosen my hands, but I couldn’t get my fingers to work. They were trembling too much.

“Relax,” he soothed.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered into his chest, just allowing myself a second of this. A second of breathing him in, of feeling safe, of feeling okay.

For just a second.

There was something so…safe about Camden. Maybe it was because he was so much older than me. Maybe it was because of how big he was. Or maybe it was because he was holding me like I was the most precious thing he’d ever touched.

Whatever it was…the feeling was dangerous.

“So, I take it you’re scared of dogs,” he mused, his tone light. There wasn’t any judgment in his tone, and he didn’t seem to be making fun of me.

I breathed him in one more time, feeling like a crazy person, and then I forced myself to let him go. Once I sat up, I tried to move from his lap, but his arms pinned me in place.

“There’s no hurry, sweetheart,” he murmured. I finally glanced up at him, expecting to see…I don’t know what. Pity maybe.

But all I could see was concern in his gold-rimmed gaze. Camden’s thumb wiped a lingering tear from my cheek, and I watched, transfixed as he brought his thumb up to his mouth, his pink tongue darting out to lick the moisture off.

“Wow…that was intense,” I breathed, not really knowing what else to say. I only knew that the longer I sat on Camden’s lap…the more another emotion was building inside of me.

He didn’t say anything, his gaze was focused on my lips, a charged intensity filling the cab that I wasn’t sure how to handle.

Something buzzed in his pocket—his phone probably—and we both startled.

Crap, what time was it? I glanced at the console, freaking out when I saw that I had to be in the shelter in twenty minutes, or I wasn’t going to have a place to sleep for the night.

I scrambled off his lap, ignoring the giant bulge between his legs as I moved—and this time he let me.

“Can you drop me off at the corner of Clark and Fourth Street. Please.” I wasn’t going to let him see the shelter, but there was no way that I could get there on foot or public transportation and make it in time. That address was just around the corner from it.

“Of course,” he said, not sounding happy about it.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “If you have somewhere to go, it’s okay.” It wouldn’t be the first time that I’d missed curfew. A night on the streets wouldn’t kill me.

Probably.

Camden scoffed. “I don’t need to go anywhere,” he told me firmly, but he still didn’t seem happy as he drove through the streets, not even needing to reference a GPS to get to the address I’d given him. He must know this city well.

The address was an apartment building about two blocks from the shelter. I’d used it before when I’d had to get rides in the past. “This is your place?” Camden asked, peering up at the building like it had personally offended him.

What was his deal? I know it wasn’t a McMansion, like where he probably lived. But still, it was perfectly nice.

Not that I actually lived there, of course.

I could only imagine what he’d think of where I really lived. He’d probably drive away screaming.

I snorted at that thought, and Camden raised an eyebrow.

How did he make that look so sexy?

A quick glance at the clock told me I only had minutes to spare.

“I’ve got to go,” I told him, instead of actually answering. For some reason, there was a part of me that didn’t want to lie to him.

“I’ll walk you in,” he said, moving to open his door.

“That’s okay!” I squeaked. “My neighbor is kind of a psycho. Hears a mouse fart at forty feet. If she hears us, she’ll report me.”

OMG. DID I REALLY JUST SAY MOUSE FART?

Just let me die now.

Please.

Camden’s face was carefully blank for a long moment. Maybe he hadn’t heard me?

Suddenly he burst out laughing, the sound of it wrapping around me like everything I never knew I needed. I couldn’t help but laugh too, even though I wanted to replace the nearest hole and jump in it.

I opened my door, and his laughter abruptly cut off, his face becoming solemn once more. “I’ll see you tomorrow, baby girl. Can I send a car?”

Inwardly scoffing again, I pictured a private car rolling up to the shelter. I could only imagine what people would think if I coasted down the steps and got in.

“That’s alright,” I said, wincing as I remembered the unfortunate dinner plans I also had before the game.

Camden bit down on his lip, looking like he wanted to argue with me, and I had the sudden urge to bite back.

Down girl.

He reached out, doing that thing where he stroked my cheek like I was everything to him.

“See you later, little dancer,” he murmured as I finally got out of the car.

And I loved that it sounded like a promise.

I pretended to go into the lobby, glad this place wasn’t manned by a doorman. I couldn’t go up to any of the floors, obviously, since I didn’t have a keycard, but thankfully Camden pulled away when I walked to the elevators.

The second his truck disappeared around the corner, I took off at a sprint, my leg aching with every step, sure I wasn’t going to make it.

One of the night guards was standing by the door, about to lock up when I rushed up the steps. “Cutting it close, Ana,” she chided gently as she opened the door and raised a questioning brow.

“I know. Thanks, Georgia,” I told her gratefully, breathing a sigh of relief as I passed over the threshold of the shelter.

As I hustled down the hall toward the main room where the cots were set up, I was still very sure that even if I’d had to sleep on the streets…

Tonight would have been worth it.