The truth was that going home with Cam wasn’t really even the issue. Yeah, it was about twenty-one flavors of crazy, but a huge part of me was even looking forward to it. I wanted to know more about Cam—to see his family and how he interacted with them. I wanted to know why he quit playing soccer and what he did every Friday night.

And I wanted… I wanted Cam.

In the way I hadn’t wanted a guy before, hadn’t even thought I’d truly be capable of wanting one. What I felt when he had kissed me was what I was supposed to feel. A tiny bit of panic had been there, was still there, but the curiosity overwhelmed that fear. So did the baffling warmth I felt whenever Cam was near.

There was no doubt in my mind that I wanted to kiss Cam again. I wanted to experience what I had after he’d left with him. Kissing him wasn’t the problem. Going home wasn’t the problem.

I just didn’t know how much of this I was capable of. How far this—whatever it was—would actually go before old fears overshadowed the warmth.

#

Over the next week, I talked myself into and out of going with Cam about a million times. Right up to the moment I packed a weekender bag, I wavered back and forth. It wasn’t until I was sitting beside him in his truck Wednesday morning when I realized I was really doing this.

“Are you sure your parents are okay with this?”

Cam nodded. I’d only asked the question around a hundred times.

I started nibbling on my thumb. “And you did actually call them and ask, right?”

He slid me a sideway look. “No.”

My jaw hit me lap. “Cam!”

Tipping his head back, he laughed deeply. “I’m kidding. Chill out, Avery. I told them the day after you said you’d go. They know you’re coming and they’re excited to meet you.”

Glaring at him, I went back to chewing on my nail. “That wasn’t funny.”

He laughed again. “Yes, it was.”

“Jerk.”

“Nerd.”

I stared out the passenger window. “Bitch-ass.”

“Oh.” Cam whistled. “Them be fighting words. Keep it up and I’ll turn this truck around.”

I grinned as we hit I70. “Sounds like a good idea.”

“You’d be distraught and in tears.” There was a pause. He reached over, pulling my hand away from my mouth. “Stop doing that.”

“Sorry.” I glanced at him. “It’s a bad habit.”

“It is.” He threaded his fingers through mine, and my heart skipped a beat. Our joined hands rested on my thigh, and I wasn’t sure what to think about that. “My sister won’t be home until early tomorrow morning. She’s doing a show in Pittsburg tonight.”