I pointed at the box of receipts and invoices on the desk. I’d only taken a cursory glance inside, and that had been enough to know it would take significant time to wade through it.
Cam grimaced. “It’s the right phrase. You smashed it. The rest of it makes me want to puke, though.”
“It will be easier if you take your accounts online. You can do it remotely then, from your phone and a laptop at home, so you’re not reliant on whoever has the right pen and paper.”
“Are you taking the piss out of me?”
“A little. English people like that, yes?”
“I was born in Kilkenny, but okay.”
“I knew that. You sound Irish when you—”
“Pres?”
A gruff voice cut me off, which was probably just as well. Fighting to steer clear of what had already passed between us was a battle I could not win indefinitely.
The source of the voice was a biker, a beautiful one this time, dressed much the same as Cam, though it was obvious this man was no blood relation. His chestnut hair, messy at the nape of his neck, and leaf-green eyes came from different DNA. A gene pool that had gifted him a soul-deep frown that Cam did not possess.
“What is it?” Cam spared him a glance, tension already tightening his shoulders. “You need me?”
A pause stretched out. One that seemed loaded with a curious and unexpected heat. The biker slid his gaze to me, held my stare long enough to get my attention, then flicked back to Cam. “On the road. We spilt some paint.”
“You can’t clean it up yourself?”
Another beat. Cam’s friend seemed to measure his words at a pace that didn’t match the urgency in his grim expression. “Reckon you should see it first. Before Mateo scrubs it clean.”
Cam’s expression marbleised. “Meet me outside.”
The biker with the faintly northern accent melted away. Cam’s eyes grew distant and distracted. He was no longer in the room with me, his mind working a million miles an hour on something else.
I shut the ledger with a snap, jolting his attention back to me. “Is it wise to spill paint in broad daylight?”
Cam stared at me for a long moment, then leaned forward, bringing his face so close to mine I could smell his oil and smoke scent seeping out of him. The only thing missing was the clean sweat that had sheened his skin as he’d fucked me. “Nothing about my life is wise right now, so I’m gonna take a chance and ask you this: what’s your real name?”
I’d been prepared for this question since I’d let my accent slip when the prospect of him fucking me had got the better of me. Cam was a vigilant man. He’d heard it. Registered it. And he would not forget.
I had an answer ready, but for some reason it lodged in my throat and I said nothing. Just held his dark gaze until a fist pounded on the doorway beyond the desk.
“Boss, we gotta fly.”
The moment was broken. Cam shifted and a second skin descended on him, obscuring the man whose eyes had been so playful and warm. It was armour and it suited him, perhaps because itwashim, and the man flirting with me was simply after another night in my bed.
Regardless, I liked looking at him, so I watched him stand and back away from the desk. “I won’t be long,” he said.
“You do not know that. It might be a lot of paint.”
“Might not be.”
“Goodbye, Cam.”
“Wait for me?”
I gave him a noncommittal shrug. Perhaps I would wait for him to come back. Then again, perhaps I wouldn’t.
6
Cam
