“Bentley, Juliana,” he says formally.
“Camden,” I say in a low voice like his.
“The food is delicious, boss,” Bentley says.
“Thank you,” he says, nodding but looking at me. “Juliana, can I speak with you for a moment?”
I falter for a second and then giggle. “I suppose, Mr. Whitman.” Again, in that low voice, mocking him.
I stand up and walk toward the bar, but Camden points toward the hallway, so I go to the hall.
When we get there, he crosses his arms and stares at me.
“What?” I ask.
“Have you had too much to drink?”
“What?”
“I’m just making sure because the last time you had several drinks, you ended up in my bed.”
My eyebrows lift, and my hands move to my hips. “Becauseyouput me there.”
“Becauseyoucouldn’t walk in a straight line.” He shifts closer, his face lowering to get in mine.
“Well, I’m walking in a straight line tonight, as you can see.”
He takes another step closer, and I back into the wall. He puts his arm on the wall next to my face and leans in until I can smell citrus on his breath. Maybe he’s had one of the drinks I’m having.
“We don’t know Bentley well enough for you to get drunk around, Juliana.”
“I’m not drunk, Camden. And it’s not your business whether I am or not. And you hired Bentley, so I think you must trust him enough to be a decent human being.”
“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”
“When it comes to the decisions I make about my life,yes,I do.” I stare at him defiantly.
He puts his other hand on the wall, blocking me in, and my heart kicks into overdrive. Our chests are rising and falling sohard and fast that they bump into each other. My nerves are standing at attention.
“I’ll be sure to let Jackson know you’re being irresponsible,” he says, his voice hoarse.
“You do that,” I whisper.
His eyes drop to my mouth, and Christmas night comes flooding back. I didn’t dream it. We almost kissed that night. And I think he wants to kiss me now!
What is this?
His hands drop, and he takes a large step back.
“You better get back to your date,” he says.
“I will,” I say with as much indignation as I can muster.
But my legs are shaky as I walk back to the table.
“Everything okay?” Bentley asks.
“Just Camden being his annoying self.” I try to laugh it off, but it sounds forced. “He’s my brother’s best friend,” I say, as if that should explain everything.
