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How should I play it?

Accept it as the anonymous gift it was and say nothing?

Thank him graciously?

Refuse it?

Throw a fit and accuse him of favoritism?

I swiped it into my hands and marched to his office. He didn’t even look up from his computer when I entered in a tizzy, ready for a fight. Instead, he said in a calm voice, “It’s a company phone.”

Well, that took the wind out of my sails. “Wha⁠—?”

“That means you have to give it back when you leave. You don’t get to keep it. It isn’t a gift.” He turned to look at me.

“It isn’t a gift?” I said suspiciously.

“No.”

“Because it would be an extravagant gift.”

Dubious creases formed on his brow. “A Cartier diamond tennis bracelet would be an extravagant gift, but I get what you’re saying.”

I spluttered. A diamond tennis bracelet? How much would one of those cost?

Speculations about what he’d be like as a boyfriend skated through my mind. If he brought daily coffee and muffins to a girl he was only interested in, what would he do for a girlfriend? A wife? I imagined Cam Shepherd liked to spoil his woman, and a bite of jealousy clamped tight at the thought of him doting on someone else.

I’d probably have to kill her.

I’d grown accustomed to not having things, to going without, but I couldn’t deny the desire deep inside that wanted. How easy it would be to let him spoil me. If only…

“You live on a different planet than I do,” I said.

“And yet we breathe the same air.”

My gaze fell to the sleek white box in my hand. “You— This is⁠—”

“I think the words you’re looking for are thank you.”

My entire body deflated. “You’re making this really hard, Camden.”

Suspicion darkened his eyes. “Making what really hard?”

Staying away from you. Not falling for you. Saving you from losing your inheritance. Keeping your father happy.

I said none of it, and his unblinking gaze scrutinized my face while I looked everywhere but his eyes.

“Tell me what he said to you,” Cam whispered, a tiny plea audible in his tone.

My jaw clenched, and I forced down the thick feeling in my throat with a painful swallow. “Thank you for the phone. It was very thoughtful.”

Thirty-Five

Saturday afternoon, me and my Corolla arrived at Ivy’s not-so-modest cottage in her not-so-modest neighborhood, and I took a moment to merely stare. Unlike Cam, she didn’t live with her parents, but if this house was any indication, she’d certainly used their money. The home was made of brick and stone, its face comprised of quaint A-frames and large leaded-glass windows. The front gardens were wild, but not overgrown, all surrounded by a low wrought-iron fence. A curved stone path led to her green front door, which opened right as I stepped inside the iron gate.

Ivy swung the front door open, barefoot and dressed more casually than I’d ever seen—in a pullover and a pair of leggings.

Even that looked elegant on her.