Down London Road (On Dublin Street #2)(21)

'Are you allowed to have that?'

I glanced over at him now, a furrow of confusion between my eyebrows. 'What?'

Cam gestured to my phone.

'I keep it on me. It doesn't seem to bother anybody else.'

He smirked and reached for the napkin and pen he'd left on the counter. He tucked the napkin into his jeans pocket before I could see what he'd been drawing, and slid the pen behind his ear. 'Oh, of course. Wouldn't want to miss the latest gossip.'

I grunted, and grabbed a dishcloth to give my hands something to do. Otherwise I was going to wrap them around his bloody neck.

'Or sexting from Malcolm  –  also known as the cash point.'

My blood ignited. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been this mad at anyone. Oh, wait. Yes I could. It had been at Cam only a week before. I spun around to face him, my eyes narrowed as he leaned back against the bar, his expression taunting and arrogant. 'Has anyone ever told you, you are the most despicable, judgemental, self-righteous, obnoxious fuckwit that ever existed?' My chest rose and fell with my rage.

Cam's expression darkened, his gaze flickering over my chest before trailing back up to my face. His scrutiny just made me flush even more. 'Careful, sweetheart. You'll use up your entire calendar of words in a night if you keep this up.'

I closed my eyes, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. I had never been a violent person; in fact I abhorred violence. Since my dad had been too handy with the slaps and punches when I was a kid, I always froze when someone got too aggressive with me. Despite all that, I had never wanted to throw something at someone as much as I wanted to throw something at Cam. 

'A heads-up.' Cam's deep voice washed over me. 'So you're not too disappointed that Disney lied  –  no matter how much you wish it, I'll still be here when you open your eyes.'

'I forgot to say condescending,' I muttered unhappily. 'Despicable, judgemental, self-righteous, obnoxious, condescending fuckwit.'

At the warm sound of his laughter, my eyes popped open. He was smiling again. He must have noted my surprise because he shrugged. 'So I might have been wrong about you being stupid.'

No, I wasn't stupid. But I wasn't educated. I hadn't finished school or gone to university. And that just made me even more uneasy around him. If he found out, it would be just the ammunition he needed to torment me more. I was saved from having to continue our conversation as voices filtered into the club. The first customers arrived and we were soon too busy serving them to say anything more to each other. I watched Cam out of the corner of my eye to see how he was doing, but he was absolutely fine. An old pro at bartending.

A couple of times our bodies brushed each other and I felt like I'd been hit with a bolt of electricity. I also finally got a good look at his tattoo. It was a fierce black and purple dragon  –  the body and wings curled around his biceps, the long scaly neck and head inked on the top half of his forearm. The artistry on it was amazing. However, I couldn't make out the script on his other arm without drawing attention to the fact that I was looking. Not that I thought he wasn't aware of my attention. Nor was I unaware of his. The worst moment came when I poured a draught of lager at the taps, and Cam leaned past me for some napkins that sat on the lowest shelf behind the bar. It brought his body up against mine. I inhaled the masculine scent of bay rum and soap as he leaned down, and then I stopped breathing altogether. His face was at eye level with my chest.

My whole body tensed, I was so hyperaware of him.

Prolonging the torturous moment, Cam's fingers missed the napkins and he had to lean back in, his cheek brushing my right boob.

I sucked in a breath and he froze momentarily.

When he straightened, I chanced a glance up at him from under my lashes and the darkly sexual glint in his eyes felt like a physical caress down my stomach towards my sex. My sensitive nipples peaked against my bra. Uh-oh. Oh, my.

Cam's jaw clenched and he backed away. I finally came to my senses, only to discover the draught had overflowed over the glass and my fingers, and I had to start again.

After that I tried to avoid any sort of physical contact with him. I'd never felt so intensely attracted to someone before. Usually, it took me a while to get to know a guy before I felt that kind of deep tingling in all my good-for-nothing places. Why did this guy have to cause such a visceral reaction in me?

The night plodded on, broken up between bursts of customers and quiet lulls. It was during one of those lulls that I slipped my phone out and checked it again. I had a text from Cole telling me the fuse in the plug for the toaster had blown and we didn't have any in the flat. I texted him back to let him know I'd get one tomorrow. I just hoped I remembered.

'Is it the guy from the other night or Malcolm?'