Stray for You (Rainbow Rescue Cat Café #3)

Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

Julian

“STAY,” I WHINE, pulling Cameron back down into bed with me.

He chuckles but doesn’t shove me away, which is a dream come true in and of itself. I’m sure I’m awake, however, if only because of the light spearing into Cameron’s bedroom and searing my eyes. The sunlight slashes across his bed. The sheets ensnare us like grasping vines, twisted and tangled from how we rolled around in them last night. I hug Cameron against my chest, burying my face against the back of his neck and breathing him in.

“I can’t stay in bed all day,” he says, but he doesn’t try to free himself from my grasp.

“Why not?” I retort like a petulant child.

“Because it’s nearly noon and I have band practice in Seattle at one,” he says.

“Nnnnn.”

“Your disagreement is noted, but it’s not going to stop me.”

Cameron turns in my arms, his face suddenly close to mine. Then the most miraculous thing happens. Cameron smooths my hair away from my face and leans forward to kiss me, morning breath and all.

“I won’t be gone that long,” he says. “Do you want food before I go? We can watch a movie or something when I get home. It won’t even be dinner time yet.”

“Why don’t I come with you?” I say.

From this close, there’s no way I could miss his wince.

“We don’t let people come to our practices,” he says. “It makes it weird. We need to play without worrying about an audience. It’s the only way it works.”

There’s something about the set of his mouth that makes me think there’s more to this than the band’s policy on practicing alone, but I don’t push it. I’ve already been luckier than I ever dared hope for, and I have the entire rest of the week to look forward to. Much as I don’t want to, I let him go, and Cameron slinks out of bed and pads to his bathroom.

I flop onto my back and listen to him brushing his teeth and getting ready for the day. It doesn’t take him long. He throws on clothes, combs his fingers through his hair, and stuffs his phone, wallet and keys into his pockets. He disappears for a bit, and a few minutes later he returns with half a bagel covered in cream cheese, which he sets on the nightstand. He holds the other half.

“Breakfast,” he says. “Or lunch, I guess. I haven’t slept this late in a while.”

“I guess your body needed some rest after all that late-night exercise,” I say with a waggle of eyebrows.

Cameron sighs and rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t seem genuinely upset, and trust me, I’ve seen him genuinely upset plenty of times.

He sits on the edge of the bed and scarfs down his bagel. I sit beside him, but only pick at the half he brought for me. He brushes the crumbs off his jeans, then kisses me swiftly.

“Don’t burn down my apartment,” he says. “I left a key on the kitchen table so you can let yourself in and out if you want. There’s not really anything to do around here, but the weather is weirdly nice today if you want to walk down to the park or something.”

“Maybe I’ll just raid your underwear drawer,” I say.

He shoves my shoulder. “You’ve seen my underwear. It’s not interesting.”

He rises from where he sits on the edge of the bed.

“I really have to go now,” he says. “Please don’t do anything crazy.”

I put up my hands in a placating gesture. “I probably won’t even bother getting out of bed.”

“Typical,” he grumbles. Yet he smiles and kisses me one last time before grabbing his guitar and finally heading out of the apartment.

I hold in my sigh until I hear the door click shut behind him. I lay spread out on his bed, arms wide, the sheets messy around me, the whole space smelling like him, like us, and I can’t imagine feeling more content for the rest of my life. What I’d give for things to stay this way forever. I want to see him off in the morning. I want to eat half his bagel for breakfast. I want to wait eagerly for him to come home. I want to do all that boring domestic stuff that never interested me before. Until now, I thought I’d want to keep living my playboy lifestyle indefinitely. It never crossed my mind to imagine a real future with Cameron of all people, yet it’s hard to swat away the fantasy when I’m enveloped in his space.

I leap out of bed, too restless to lie there waiting for the minutes to tick by. I brush my teeth and freshen up a little before throwing on clothes. Then I make the bed. But I don’t simply make the bed, I also clean up the clothes strewn about it. I straighten the clutter on the nightstand. I tidy up what I can in Cameron’s room, so that when he comes home he gets an instant physical reminder that I was thinking about him all day.

It doesn’t take very long, however, and soon I’m right back where I was — bored and restless. I wander through the tiny apartment, mentally collecting all the miscellaneous detritus that makes up Cameron. I feel like a character in a detective game. Every picture frame, every book, every shirt in his laundry, every dirty coffee mug in his sink — they’re pieces of the full picture. He has a weird and random collection of mugs. Some must be gifts. He reads a lot of biographies about musicians, apparently, but there’s also a few fantasy novels thrown into the mix, which is an interest of his I never knew about.

And then there are the photos of his mom.

He keeps one on the IKEA shelf in his bedroom, a photo of him and his mother at Mount Rushmore, presumably when they drove out here for their big move. There’s another in the living room, however, and this one is old enough that it’s faded around the edges. Cameron is a little kid holding a guitar way too large for his tiny frame, and his mother is showing him how to pluck the strings.

My heart swells like it might burst my chest open. If there’s one thing we’ve always had in common, it’s being mama’s boys. I understand this love, this connection. Even when we were younger, I understood why he regarded me with such suspicion. I never knew my dad, but he knew his, and the guy left in a really shitty way. He wanted to make sure his mom didn’t get hurt again so soon after that whole mess, and I was a wild factor. At least I’ve started to earn my way into his good graces.

There isn’t much else to find in Cameron’s apartment, and I’m going to go crazy if I keep myself cooped up all day, so I scoop up the key he left out for me on the counter, throw on my shoes and head down the stairs and outside.

Cameron was right. It’s a gorgeous day. Despite Seattle settling firmly into fall, it isn’t raining. It isn’t even gray. Someone alert the press. It’s October and the sun is shining. A mild breeze kicks up, stirring my hair and keeping me cool in my hoodie as I walk up the road and toward that grocery store we went to yesterday. I figure if I have nothing better to do, I might as well buy some stuff for dinner and see if I can surprise him with a meal. That would be a thing he liked, right? Plus, he cooked for me yesterday. It’s only fair I try to return the favor when I’ve got nothing better to do.

I grab a basket by the entrance to the supermarket and wander around aimlessly. I’m not sure what I want to make, but I’ll let inspiration strike as and when it will.

I’m in the pasta aisle staring at the boxes and wondering if I could make a noodle dish that’s significantly different from what we ate yesterday when someone calls my name.

I spin around, nearly jumping out of my skin — because who the hell in Nowhere, Washington, could possibly know me? Then a huge smile cracks my face open.

“Miss Ortiz?” I say.

Cameron’s mom strides up to me with her grocery basket dangling from her arm. “Oh my God. Julian. It really is you. I can’t believe it. What are you doing here?”

I have no idea what to tell her. I can’t be here for a conference. I’m too far from Seattle. I settle for a half-truth. “Just visiting.”

She shakes her head, but luckily she seems too surprised to bother digging into my insufficient response.

“That’s amazing. I can’t believe we’re running into each other in a little town like this. What are the odds?” she says.

Heh. Yeah. What are the odds, indeed?

“You live here?” I ask, trying to shift the focus onto her.

“Yes, right down the road,” she says. “My cousin has a house here, and when Cameron and I moved out here, we stayed with her at first. Then Cameron moved out on his own. Does he know you’re in town? You should reach out. Or I could let him know.”

A pang strikes my chest. I was dancing around this topic because I wasn’t sure, but of course Cameron didn’t tell her about me being here. Of course he kept it a secret from his mother, whom he’s so close to and so protective over. I might understand his reasons, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. Does he really believe I’m some kind of threat to this woman’s happiness? Does he think she’d be angry if she found out we were spending the week together?

“Is everything alright?” Miss Ortiz asks.

I shake myself, slapping on a smile. Luckily, I’ve got plenty of practice at being charming regardless of my true feelings.

“Yeah, of course,” I say. “Jet lag. I only got here yesterday. I’m trying to make myself eat, but the time difference has my stomach all messed up.”

I lift my empty shopping basket as though in explanation.

“It’s a big trip,” Miss Ortiz says. “You should join us for dinner while you’re here. I make Cameron come over once a week for a family meal. I’m sure you’d be welcome to join us. You boys were always friends, even back in high school.”

Even with all my practice at faking it, it’s getting harder and harder to cling to the smile that wants to drop off my lips. Friends. Right. If only she knew the half of it.

Actually, Miss Ortiz, I’ve been hopelessly pining after your son since the day I met him, but I seem to inspire nothing but hatred in him, which I guess is why he’s hiding me from you.

What would Cameron think if he knew about this chance encounter? I have to make sure he doesn’t find out, but that requires Miss Ortiz not saying anything to him.

“Actually, I’m only here for a couple days,” I lie smoothly. “It’s a work acquaintance kind of thing, so I can’t stay long. In and out, you know how it is.”

“That’s a shame,” Miss Ortiz says, and holy shit, I think she actually means that. “Well, if you find yourself in the area again, let me or Cameron know. I bet he’d even give you a place to stay if you asked.”

“Yeah, I’ll … I’ll ask him about crashing on his couch next time. Save on the hotel fees.”

Miss Ortiz wishes me well and heads off, but I have to stand there in the pasta aisle for several minutes after that, replaying the lies I sold her to avoid telling her that I’m spending the week in her son’s bed. Lies I sold her because evidently Cameron is ashamed of this.

No matter how many sweet good morning kisses we share, at the end of the day, I’m a secret he prefers to keep tucked away in the dark.