She rolled her eyes, probably because she knew I was lying. "Speaking of Mr. and Mrs. Watkins, how are they doing?"
"Meh," I answered with a shrug. "I haven't heard from them in a few months, but the last time Mother Dearest called, they were in the Bahamas."
"A few months?"
"You know my parents," I said with a shrug.
There was a familiar sting in the vicinity of my heart at the words, but it wasn't as painful as it used to be. After nearly three decades of benign neglect, I'd learned not to expect too much from my parents. I didn't think they were capable of anything other than the distant form of affection they'd shown me for as long as I could remember.
In all the ways that truly mattered, I'd met my real mom and dad the first time that Cam brought me home for dinner in college.
"Those people," Cam muttered beneath her breath.
She didn't get to finish her thought because a young brunette woman entered the shop. People turned to look and smiled or waved before they returned to their ice cream.
"Wow, Lee grew up," Cam said beneath her breath as she watched the woman coming toward us.
Wow was right. Lee wasn't the right name for a woman as stunning as this one. She wasn't as tall as Cam, but she was a little taller than me.
She also looked like a model. Her long brown hair was parted down the middle and fell around her shoulders in a smooth curtain. Her face was a perfectly symmetrical arrangement of large brown eyes so dark they were nearly black, a slim nose that would make any plastic surgeon wish they were talented enough to sculpt it, and well-shaped lips that belonged on the face of a lingerie model. Her eyelashes were so long that they looked fake, but I knew they couldn't be because she wore not a single speck of make-up. Which made me envious because her light brown skin was smooth and flawless.
It was as if she didn't want anyone to notice how beautiful she was but there was no hiding it. Not unless she wore a paper bag over her head.
Her clothes were understated, a crisp white shirt with short cap sleeves and light gray slacks with a sharp crease down each leg. On her feet, she wore a pair of incredibly cute peep-toe Mary Jane pumps in gray suede one shade darker than her pants. There was a little bow above the open toes and light pink polish on her toenails.
She looked like a magazine version of a woman going to a job interview.
"It's good to see you again, Lee. It's been a while. I think the last time I talked to your mom you were about to graduate college."
Lee smiled but it was shy and nearly hesitant, as though she didn't do it very often. "I graduated two years ago. Right now, I'm looking at graduate programs and saving my money to go back."
"Really? What do you plan to study?"
Lee licked her lips before she answered. "I'd like to get my MBA."
Cam's brows lifted. "That's great. I wish I'd had the right temperament for grad school because an MBA would have helped me so much when I started Crave. But four years was enough for me."
Lee smiled again and this time it was wide and genuine. Holy cow, with her working here, every available man between the ages of fifteen and ninety would be in here to buy ice cream.
"I loved school," Lee admitted.
Cam nodded. "I'm sure you'll do extremely well in a graduate program." She turned to me. "Lee, this is my partner, Sierra Watkins. Sierra, this is Lee Prescott."
I held my hand out to her and she took it. Her handshake was firm without being painful and her palms were slightly damp.
So she was nervous and she didn't give dead fish handshakes. I liked that.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Watkins," she said.
"Please call me Sierra. Ms. Watkins doesn't wear t-shirts with writing on them and Converse."
Lee gave me the same sincere smile she'd given Cam. Whoa. Why was this woman still living here instead of making millions of dollars modeling all over the world?
Not my business, I reminded myself.
Cam gestured to the hall that led to her office. "Let's go talk in my office."
Lee nodded and followed Cam. She wiped her palms against her thighs and I could see the fine tremor in her fingers. I knew how nerve-wracking it was to go into job interviews and I wished there was some way I could put her at ease. But it also showed that she cared very much if she got this job or not, which I liked.
