Camden Read online Jessica Gadziala (Henchmen MC #18)

Categories Genre: Biker, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Henchmen MC Series by Jessica Gadziala
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Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
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Apparently, Cam was not.

He didn't care about the Xs.

He just didn't have a way to contact me. If his phone was crushed or ruined with water or simply missing, then he had no way to retrieve my phone number, so he had simply scribbled it on my board when he had gotten back.

Then I took off.

I couldn't help but wonder if maybe he had worried much like I had worried. If he had fretted over our last interactions, if he was concerned he had said or done the wrong thing.

It wasn't likely, of course, but a small part of me hoped maybe it was a teensy bit true.

I dropped my keys twice trying to get them into the lock, rushing into my apartment, nearly tossing my grocery bags onto the counter as I fetched my phone out of my bag. As I made my way back to the door, I heard a domino effect of items falling, half-bracing myself for the crunch of glass if any of it was the pasta sauce as I got to the door, plugging in his new number.

I barely even closed myself into my apartment again before my clumsy fingers were typing out a message.

- Sorry. I had a dog sitting job over the weekend. Just got back. What happened to your phone?

Cam - Fucking West.

- What'd he do this time?

Cam - We were on our way to a, ah, drop. A job. And my phone slipped out of my pocket. It was in a life-proof case. It would have been fine. If West hadn't swerved into my lane and driven over it, crushing it completely.

- Wait. On purpose?

Cam - Yep.

- But why?

Cam - He said he was sick of me being on it. And if we were going to be away for a few days, he wanted us to all hang out. Without any distractions.

I was a distraction.

Maybe it was a small thing, but I couldn't help but feel warmed at the idea. That his brothers were jealous of the attention he gave me instead of them.

It was a bit selfish of me, really.

But I couldn't bring myself to care as I bent down to fetch my fallen items. None of them, luckily, ended up being the bottles of sauce.

- Well, that was crummy of him. But I hope you had a good time with your brothers.

Cam - We had to stay in a shoebox of a guest house overnight because, apparently, it was some sort of tradition that we were not allowed to leave right after handling business. It was awkward at best. We drank the time away. It wasn't too awful. But I am glad to have it over with. How was dog sitting?

- Well, I fell in love. With the sweetest Golden Retriever known to mankind. And since all Golden Retrievers are sweethearts, that is really saying something.

Cam - Big dog fan, huh?

- Yeah. Always was. But as a kid, we never lived anywhere pet-friendly. It was a pattern that followed me into adulthood. I have always wanted one, though.

Cam - Hence the dog walking and sitting.

It wasn't that easy. Not really. I never dog walked or pet sat back in my old life. I had a normal job, one with a steady paycheck. I cooed at cute dogs and begged to pet them when they crossed my path, but I never included them in my work.

The dog walking and pet sitting, that was all for very specific reasons. But they weren't reasons I could share.

So I didn't.

It was the first time when being evasive about myself, about my life, felt wrong.

- Do you like dogs?

Cam - Sure. Mostly big ones though. Nothing it looks like I could kill if I accidentally nudged it with my foot.

- Big dogs can get in the way too.

Cam - True. Something in the in-between size seems about right to me. Big enough not to be able to hide in a shoebox, but not so big that you can't pass each other in the hall.

I could see his point as I speared a piece of penne out of the boiling pot, bouncing it around between my hands for a few seconds to cool before popping it in my mouth to test the firmness.

My mother had always been able to know when pasta was perfectly done by simply looking at it. It was a skill I should have inquired about, before it was too late. But I never had, so I always had to taste it every few minutes until it was right.

I didn't mean to do it.

Truly, I didn't.

I wasn't thinking at all.

But my hands had a mind of their own.

- I am making baked ziti. And garlic bread. If you want to stop over. If you're hungry. We could... well, eat in silence. I don't have Netflix or anything. You know what, I will just bring you a plate when it's done. That was a very lame offer.


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