“Morning,” I said shyly. I looked down to the book I’d closed and rested on my lap.
When he didn’t reciprocate my greeting I glanced up at him. His dark eyes were on me, but I couldn’t tell what kind of mood he was in. “What are you doing up?” His normally deep voice came out rough and scratchy.
“Couldn’t sleep.”
He regarded me before turning away. “Coffee?”
“Please,” I said, getting up from the couch. I walked over to the island and sat down. He poured two cups. He made my coffee just as I had the other day; splash of cream and two teaspoons of sugar. I hadn’t realized he paid that close of attention.
He passed the mug to me and I said, “Thanks,” enveloping my hands around the almost too hot cup. The silence was making me squirm, and I felt as though I needed to start this conversation before I chickened out. “Are you always up this early?” I took a slow sip of the steaming joe. He’d made it perfectly.
I noticed his eyes were watching my mouth as I licked any stray drops of coffee from them. “Usually.”
“Are you going for a run?”
“Probably.”
“You’re quite the conversationalist in the mornings,” I mused sarcastically.
He grunted at me. “And you talk too much.”
Was he teasing me, or was he being serious? This was exactly why I needed to talk to him. I knew nothing about Camden, and I didn’t really know how to gauge his behavior and responses. I gave him a small smile to show that if he was teasing I picked up on it. If he wasn’t, well, at least I seemed to feign indifference.
“Just trying to figure you out.”
He set his mug down, and he leaned against the opposite counter from me. His arms folded over his chest making him appear even larger than he already looked. He crossed his ankles, and I noticed his bare feet. I swallowed, hard. What was it about a man in sweats or jeans with bare feet that was so tantalizing?
“Alright Blue, what do you want to know?”
I raised my eyebrow at him and took another sip of coffee. “Well, for starters, what’s with the nickname? You’ve barely spoken a few short sentences to me since I moved in here.”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Obviously not,” I retorted, being a smartass.
“Next question,” he said, disregarding the first one.
“You’re not going to answer?”
“Nope.”
I grumbled under my breath. I noticed the side of his mouth twitched up but quickly went away. Did I just catch him trying not to smile at me?
“Fine. How about telling me about your gym?”
He seemed to roll his eyes at the question. “Dodger told you?”
“No, not really. He said you and your brothers owned one, and that you were the manager of it. That’s all I know. I don’t know where it’s at, or anything about it.”
He sighed and released his arms. “I’m surprised. Dodger likes to run his mouth. The gym belonged to my dad until he decided to retire early and pass it along to us. He and my mom wanted to travel so the gym is now ours. I was the one who showed the most interest in it, more than my other siblings. It’s the one a few blocks over, The Dugout.” He shrugged. “Well, except for Dodge, but he’s not interested in managing the place, he just likes to train.”
I felt like I had been slapped stupid. This was the most that Camden had spoken to me since, well… ever. What was even more surprising was him being so forthcoming with the information. I only expected responses from him similar to what he’d given me so far this morning. Short and clipped.
“Hmmm, I’ve actually driven past it a few times. But I’m catching a theme here; The Dugout, Camden, Dodger… your parents have a thing for baseball?”
“You’re quick.” His mouth tipped up in a smile.
“So are your other two brothers also named after something baseball-ish?”
“They are.”
We’re back to being short. “Care to share?”
“My older brother is Turner, and my youngest brother is Wrigley.”
I grinned. “Some pretty unique names. So your parents named everything after baseball?”
“Something like that.” He regarded me with wary eyes. “Is it my turn?”
I glanced down at my coffee cup. Steam was still rising from the surface of the liquid. “Your turn for what?”
“To ask questions.”
My heart picked up its pace. “What do you want to know?”
A look of mischief danced behind his eyes. “Why such a large age gap between you and your little sister?”
I really didn’t want to talk about my family, my mom in particular, but he’d divulged some information so I guess I needed to reciprocate. “My mom got pregnant with me when she was still in high school. My sperm donor—” he cocked an eyebrow at the term, “—left after she told him of my impending arrival. My mom raised me by herself, and then twelve years later she told me Sarah was on the way.”
I didn’t know if he was expecting more, but I had no intentions of going further. “Is she your only sibling?”
I nodded. His body shifted as he reached for his cup of black coffee, and I openly watched the way each muscle bunched under his skin. His eyes narrowed, and I knew he saw me checking him out. “So, what do you know about The Dugout?” His change of subject gave me pause. Between our very unusual conversation, and him actually being sort of nice, I felt almost put off.
“Well, I’ve only really heard about it. Macie had a membership there not too long ago. She was trying to get the attention of a guy who was going there, but it ended up not working out. Anyway she cancelled it because she didn’t want to run into him again and the girl doesn’t need to exercise. Her body is already pretty perfect.”
He curled his lip as though something I said left a bad taste in his mouth. “First of all, going to a gym to get a guy’s attention is just stupid. And second, I don’t care what you look like, everyone should work out.”
I shifted in my chair. This topic felt more taboo than telling him all the ins and outs of my mom’s sorted affairs. I was already insecure with myself, but when you couple that with the Adonis standing across from me and eyeing me like he meant that comment for me, I bristled.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He took a step forward, as though he knew I’d spar with him over the subject. “Exactly what I said, you can be skinny, tall, short, healthy, out of shape, or fat; everyone should be working out.”
Was it me, or did my ears pick up on his emphasis on the word ‘fat’? I knew I was probably overreacting, but suddenly I wanted this fight. “Why does it sound like your words are a jab in my direction, Camden?”
He jerked back slightly. “What? I was making a general statement. What are you being so sensitive about?”
I rolled my eyes and hopped down from the stool. Rounding the counter I tossed the rest of my coffee in the sink. “Oh give me a break! I heard you the day I signed those papers, and I’ve seen the way you look at me. I get it okay? I know I’m not thin, and I don’t have the best diet. But who in the hell are you to judge me for how I live my life? If I wanted to put my fat ass in a gym, I’d be squatting with the rest of those skinny girls you bring home.”