Chapter 8
Camilla
Ding dong. Bam! Bam! Bam! Ding dong.
“What the hell?” I yawn and glance at my alarm clock. It’s a quarter to seven in the morning. If I ignore whoever it is, they’ll go away. I put another pillow over my head. It doesn’t help. I still hear the constant ringing.
Ding dong. Ding dong.
Why aren’t they leaving? I thought there were laws against soliciting before nine AM. I yawn, stretch, and lay my head back down on my pillow.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
Shit. They’re not going to leave. Begrudgingly, I get out of bed and take a quick peek in the mirror. My hair is going in directions I didn’t know were possible. I reach for a tie and pull it up into a ponytail before heading down the steps to answer the door.
Bam! Bam! Ding dong!
“I’m coming!” I yell as I rush down the last three steps. I unlock the chain, then stop, realizing I didn’t bother to ask who it is. I don’t know anyone here, and I’m not expecting any deliveries until this afternoon. I lean against the door and put my eye to the peephole.
I feel a dryness in my throat as my breath catches. I recognize the large, burly man standing on the other side. Closing my eyes,I turn and lean my back against the door, planning my next move. Shit. I don’t have a next move. He already heard me call out, and it’s not like anyone else lives here.
“Camilla? Are you okay?”
Fuck! What is he doing here? I ball my hands into fists and spin back around to face the door. Breathe, I remind myself before I reach for the knob and open it. Go one breath at a time.
“Stone? Do you have any idea what ungodly hour it is?”
“How are you going to run a bakery if you're not up before everyone heads to work? You need to be up much earlier than this—”
“I’m getting my rest now before I have to—“ I catch myself mid-snap. I don’t answer to him. “What are you doing here?”
“Good morning to you, too, sugar.” He pulls his hard hat off and holds it in front of his chest, giving me a glimpse of his dark brown hair. With a side part, it falls to his eyes in a sexy, messy way. I’m too busy examining him to notice the moment his eyes fall from my face. When I attempt to meet his stare again, I catch him inching them down my neck and chest. He doesn’t stop there; his eyes rake all the way down my legs. Thank goodness I got waxed last week.
“You certainly are a sight in the morning!”
I’m not sure how he means that, so I allow my stare to follow his, and fill with embarrassment when I realize that I’m standing in a loose-fitting tank top that allows a sliver of skin between the bottom of my shirt and the top of my pajama shorts to show. Uncomfortable, I tug at the top, stretching it so that it covers my too-big belly.
“Why are you here!?” I snap, raising my eyes, but stopping short of meeting his. I’m too embarrassed, so instead, I focus on his lips.
“I picked some supplies up that I wanted to drop off before work. I made a small sample of an arch that I wanted to showyou to make sure we’re on the same page. If you unlock the door, I can bring it all in, along with paint swatches for you to sort through, and then we can talk about everything when I come back tonight after work.”
Supplies? After work? I tell myself this isn’t real. I must be dreaming. Stone has no reason to bring supplies. I haven’t heard from him since I left his friend’s cafe three days ago, and Eternal by Design hasn’t gotten back to me with an estimate yet. I rub the sleep from my eyes and blink them a few times to be certain I’m awake.
“Are you okay, Camilla?” His voice rasps with concern. “You haven’t said anything.”
“Why?” I ask through a yawn. “Would you bring paint if Eternal by Design doesn’t paint?
“To be clear, I didn’t bring paint, just colors for you to choose from.”
