Cam’s eyes went back to her rig. He had extra rooms at his place, and it was on the tip of his tongue to offer that to her, but how would she take it? Like he was making a move on her? Yeah, he was attracted to her, but too much shit was happening right now for him to think about that.
He thought of a compromise instead. “Park at the club. Someone is there almost all the time. I work a lot of nights there, so if you need me, I’ll be close by.”
Sabrina’s smile didn’t meet her eyes. “I’ll think about it.”
He heard her dismissal loud and clear. Yes, she was a perfectly capable woman, but he still hated the idea of her being out here by herself. If something happened to Sabrina…
Someone would die.
He was startled by the sudden surge of anger at just thinking about a threat to this woman. The level of possessiveness wasn’t familiar, and he didn’t know how to react.
“It would mean a lot to me if you’d park at the club.”
“I said I’d think about it.”
He tried again. “It’s not just about you, babe. I’ll go nuts if I can’t know you’re safe.”
She cocked her head to one side. “So, this is more for your mental health?”
“Yeah.” He was willing to say anything to get her out of there.
He held his breath, wondering if stubbornness really was a hereditary trait.
She sighed. “Well, sugar, it’s real convenient to be where I am, but I’ll check out some spots around y’all’s bar and let you know.”
Cam figured this was the most concession he would get from her. “You’ve got my number. Promise me you’ll use it if you need anything, yeah?”
He expected her to bristle, but she surprised him with a nod. “I will. Promise.”
She unlocked the side door of her van before turning back to him. “If you hear anything about Scrap tonight, would you mind texting me?”
“Yeah, I can do that.”
She hesitated in opening the door. She didn’t seem to be scared of him; it was more anticipatory, like she didn’t understand what came next. Cam remembered this as being the moment during a high school date when you tried to determine whether or not a good night kiss was in order. More than once he’d stood on a girl’s front porch and wondered if he should lean in and take one. If this had been a date, maybe he would take the chance, but too much had happened today, and it wasn’t the right time.
Yet.
“Good night, Sabrina.”
“’Night, Cam.”
It was all he could do to mount up and drive away after hearing his name on her tongue.
CHAPTER
NINE
The glowing billetof steel threw off sparks as Cam pressed it in the hydraulic machine. The power hammer was still broken and the work was slow, but the manual press helped. He’d cut and layered twenty-five pieces of sheet steel and copper, then forge welded them into one block. He repeated this process as he heated, flattened, and folded the piece until he had two hundred layers. The technique was called Damascus, and when he finished this set of knives, they would be gorgeous with their distinctive forging pattern.
It took a lot of time, but in the end, he would have something really special.
Quillon brushed steel shavings from one of the lathes. “Nice-looking piece. I can’t wait to see the colors when you’re done with it. Competition knife?”
Cam lifted his foot and pushed down on the operation pedal. The press lowered, forcing the orange metal to combine. “Don’t know. I might enter something in one of those blade competitions someday. Right now, I’m just experimenting.”
He paused after a few minutes and swiped a hand over his forehead. The heat of the forge and the exertion of using thelarge machining tool made him sweat. “Will someone fix the power hammer soon?”
“The new part is still backordered. I called yesterday, and the guy said two weeks.”
