gentlemanly thing to do. My aunt would insist.” Not exactly true, but he didn’t think Aunt Opal would mind him taking her name in vain under the circumstances. She was always telling him to date more often.
Camille gathered their plates and went to dump them in the trash. “Well, I wouldn’t want to put you on the wrong side of a Southern belle.”
“That’s the truth. Never do that. Unless she’s named Bobbie Jo, and then you want to get out of her good graces as quickly as possible.” He heard her smother a guffaw, then he girded his loins and went to pay at the counter, giving a generous tip.
Bobbie Jo’s gaze glittered with some emotion he didn’t want to identify. It wasn’t that he enjoyed hurting her feelings…he just couldn’t make himself be interested. He’d said as much to her on several occasions, trying to be kind about it, but damn. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. It didn’t matter what he said.
Camille came up and gave him a look of wide-eyed adoration. “Thank you for lunch, honey.”
He wrapped an arm around her waist, partly to play it up for Bobbie Jo, partly because he wanted to touch Camille. A lot. “Just wait and see where I take you for dinner tomorrow.”
Her smile lit her face, and he could see laughter sparkling in her gaze, but she managed a credibly simpering tone. “Looking forward to it.”
“Me too.” He brushed a kiss over her forehead. Her sweet scent filled his nose. Damn, she smelled good. Drawing her away from the counter, he nodded to the waitress. “Bye, Bobbie Jo. Say hi to your mama for me.”
He was pretty sure he heard a growl behind him, but he didn’t look back. Instead, he guided Camille across the field to the main road, careful to pick the path with the most even footing. He’d hate to have her hurt her leg, especially when she’d jumped in so readily with his Bobbie Jo problem.
“Thanks,” he said. “And don’t even think about offering to pay me back for your lunch.”
He glanced down to see her nose crinkle. “How did you know I was planning to do that?”
They reached the sidewalk and turned toward the hotel. After squeezing her shoulder, he let her go. “You strike me as a very independent woman, who probably goes Dutch on most of her dates. Am I right?”
“Or he pays one time, I pay the next.”
He awarded himself a point for calling that correctly. “Well, since you saved me from Ms. Fondler, I think you more than earned your lunch. Though now I’m going to think of her as Ms. Fondler, so it’s going to be hard to keep a straight face next time I see her.”
“She deserves it.” Her expression was unapologetic and a dimple tucked into one cheek. “She’s lucky you didn’t have her thrown on a sex-offender registry.”
“Unforgiving, aren’t you?” Not that he necessarily disagreed with her, but it was fun to rev her up and hear what came out of her mouth. So far, it had been both amusing and unpredictable.
She huffed out a breath. “Did she ever apologize?”
A fair question. “Nope. Not even after she sobered up.”
“Then she doesn’t deserve to be forgiven. I’m a big believer that if you fuck up, you should say you’re sorry and try never to do it again.” She hunched a shoulder. “My relationship with my mom sucks partly because she fucks up a lot, only apologizes to appease you, then turns around and immediately does that same thing. So her apologies don’t mean squat. She’s not really sorry, she just wants you to stop being upset and let her do whatever she wants, which includes lying, manipulating, taking advantage, and otherwise being a gigantic drama llama. I’m not okay with that and I’m not going to pretend I am. Period.” She flicked her hair over her shoulder. “So. No genuine apology? No forgiveness.”
Well, that told him a lot about her and how she’d become as no-nonsense as she seemed. He bumped his arm into hers. “I assume she’s why you hate liars and drama
Camille gathered their plates and went to dump them in the trash. “Well, I wouldn’t want to put you on the wrong side of a Southern belle.”
“That’s the truth. Never do that. Unless she’s named Bobbie Jo, and then you want to get out of her good graces as quickly as possible.” He heard her smother a guffaw, then he girded his loins and went to pay at the counter, giving a generous tip.
Bobbie Jo’s gaze glittered with some emotion he didn’t want to identify. It wasn’t that he enjoyed hurting her feelings…he just couldn’t make himself be interested. He’d said as much to her on several occasions, trying to be kind about it, but damn. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. It didn’t matter what he said.
Camille came up and gave him a look of wide-eyed adoration. “Thank you for lunch, honey.”
He wrapped an arm around her waist, partly to play it up for Bobbie Jo, partly because he wanted to touch Camille. A lot. “Just wait and see where I take you for dinner tomorrow.”
Her smile lit her face, and he could see laughter sparkling in her gaze, but she managed a credibly simpering tone. “Looking forward to it.”
“Me too.” He brushed a kiss over her forehead. Her sweet scent filled his nose. Damn, she smelled good. Drawing her away from the counter, he nodded to the waitress. “Bye, Bobbie Jo. Say hi to your mama for me.”
He was pretty sure he heard a growl behind him, but he didn’t look back. Instead, he guided Camille across the field to the main road, careful to pick the path with the most even footing. He’d hate to have her hurt her leg, especially when she’d jumped in so readily with his Bobbie Jo problem.
“Thanks,” he said. “And don’t even think about offering to pay me back for your lunch.”
He glanced down to see her nose crinkle. “How did you know I was planning to do that?”
They reached the sidewalk and turned toward the hotel. After squeezing her shoulder, he let her go. “You strike me as a very independent woman, who probably goes Dutch on most of her dates. Am I right?”
“Or he pays one time, I pay the next.”
He awarded himself a point for calling that correctly. “Well, since you saved me from Ms. Fondler, I think you more than earned your lunch. Though now I’m going to think of her as Ms. Fondler, so it’s going to be hard to keep a straight face next time I see her.”
“She deserves it.” Her expression was unapologetic and a dimple tucked into one cheek. “She’s lucky you didn’t have her thrown on a sex-offender registry.”
“Unforgiving, aren’t you?” Not that he necessarily disagreed with her, but it was fun to rev her up and hear what came out of her mouth. So far, it had been both amusing and unpredictable.
She huffed out a breath. “Did she ever apologize?”
A fair question. “Nope. Not even after she sobered up.”
“Then she doesn’t deserve to be forgiven. I’m a big believer that if you fuck up, you should say you’re sorry and try never to do it again.” She hunched a shoulder. “My relationship with my mom sucks partly because she fucks up a lot, only apologizes to appease you, then turns around and immediately does that same thing. So her apologies don’t mean squat. She’s not really sorry, she just wants you to stop being upset and let her do whatever she wants, which includes lying, manipulating, taking advantage, and otherwise being a gigantic drama llama. I’m not okay with that and I’m not going to pretend I am. Period.” She flicked her hair over her shoulder. “So. No genuine apology? No forgiveness.”
Well, that told him a lot about her and how she’d become as no-nonsense as she seemed. He bumped his arm into hers. “I assume she’s why you hate liars and drama
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