The door swings open and my breath catches.
Lucas is standing there, wearing a backwards cap.My weakness.
What the hell is Lucas doing here?
He smiles at me, and I feel it. Those damn butterflies again.
He looks good. He somehow looks even hotter than last night. He smells even better. And all I want to do is kiss him again.
He’s looking at me like he knew I was coming.
Wait, does he know Emerson too? I remember Tyler telling me Emerson is his boss, maybe they work together?
“Hey, Camille. How are you? Come in, come check out my place.” He steps forward and pulls me into a hug, then gestures toward the inside of—hold up, his place?
I blink. “Your house? Not Emerson’s?”
He chuckles. “Yeah. I’m Emerson. Lucas Emerson. Some of the guys at work call me by my last name, was that what Tyler called me?”
I nod slowly, still trying to wrap my head around it.
Lucas Emerson. Of course. Of course it’s him.
Well… I guess the good news is, he’s not a total stranger. I know I’ll be safe with him.
But the bad news? If I’m living with him even temporarily then I want to keep a boundary between us. But I’m so damn attracted to this man, so it’s going to be so hard keeping my hands off him.
I school my expression, fighting the smile tugging at my lips.
“Well, lead the way, Emerson,” I step inside after him.
I’m hit with the scent of lemon cleaner and something warm—like vanilla and cedarwood. Just like my favourite candle.
The house is clean. Light pours in through wide windows, bouncing off soft coastal tones in the home—creamy whites, sage greens, sandy beiges. The furniture is all clean lines and comfort. There’s a hugecream leather L-shaped couch, piled with cozy throw pillows. Timber shelves lined with plants, books, and a few black-and-white photos I don’t dare stare at too long. A sleek surfboard is propped in the corner, its edges worn in a way that says it’s used, not just for show. The kitchen is modern with white stone benchtops, gold fixtures, and not a dirty dish in sight. A record player sits near the window, with a stack of vinyls beside it. I catch a glimpse of Fleetwood Mac on top. I’m impressed. The man has good taste.
It’s masculine, but not in an over the top kind of way. It feels… lived in. Like someone actually gives a damn about this place. And now I’m going to live here? It’s surreal.
15
Welcome to my house
I was smiling so much when I woke up this morning to a text from Camille. I wasn’t expecting it at all. Tyler gave me a quick brief this morning about it all, because he hadn’t even told me he offered my place up. I’m not really bothered. I guess he knows me well and that there’s no way I would say no to someone if they needed help.
I do feel a little bad now that I’ve realised she didn’t know it was my place she was coming to today.
Maybe now she’s second-guessing everything. Maybe she won’t want to stay after all.
I just need to show her that it’s a good idea, that she’s safe here, and there’s nothing to worry about.
Even though Tyler said he’d hang around, he’s made himself scarce, disappearing into the gym out back while I give Camille the tour.
She’s been quiet as I walk her through the house.
I’ve done most of the talking, trying to fill the silence without overwhelming her.
I think she’s just taking it all in.
Well, I hope that’s what it is.
