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“What’s good enough? If you’re good enough for God, you’re good enough. But despite what Hollywood tells you, Rich don’t marry Poor. Rich dabbles in Poor until it’s had its fun, then scampers off to its diamond-encrusted origins.”
“I know.”
She grabbed my hand. “I just want you thinking with your head. Not your…hormones. You’ll get hurt. Or pregnant.”
Fire scalded my face. “Mom.”
“Hey, he’s a handsome man.” She lifted one shoulder. “If you like that—you know—bookish type.”
An overwhelming urge to defend Cam rose in me. “What’s so wrong with being bookish?”
Mom rolled her eyes. “When he was seventeen, I overheard him use the word ‘henceforth.’ Not ironically.” She adopted a thoughtful expression. “It was actually the moment I realized he might be perfect for you.”
I hid my face in my hands. “Oh my god.”
“Anyway, all I’m saying is, make good choices and stay on your birth control.”
Thirty-One
By Friday, I’d memorized my SWOT analysis and bored Maribel and Ravi enough that they instituted a rule against talking about work at dinner. The answer was crystalline, and I’d deliberated long enough.
Cam answered my call on the second ring.
“Shepherd,” I said formally, hoping he heard the tease in my voice.
He released a soft laugh. “Honeycutt.”
“I’d like to let you know I’ve reached a decision.”
“I’m riveted,” he said.
I stole a deep breath. “I’m accepting your offer.”
“Ah. Was it the bribe with my mother that sealed the deal?” The smile in his tone was transparent.
“Of course not,” I said primly.
“Oh?”
“It was the money.”
“Does that mean I should bring your coffee to work on Monday?” he said with a chuckle.
I sank back into Ravi’s couch, grinning so hard it hurt. “That would be acceptable.”
His low voice turned warm, edging into intimate. “I’m so glad you’re sticking with us. My father won’t bother you again.”
“I’m a big girl, Cam. I can handle your father.”
“Can you teach me how?” he deadpanned.
“Perhaps.” I tried to curb the flirtatious lilt in my tone, but since I was a moron, it was impossible. “What would I get in return?”
“Whatever you’d like.” Behind my ribs, my heart thudded hard, then tripped into a painful rhythm when he added, “However you’d like it.”
Was he…coming onto me? Was this strange, fluttery sensation what it felt like to be pursued by Camden Shepherd?
And who was this girl who used my voice to say, “However I like it?”
