“You should probably check those vegetables,” he told her as he began the preparations for the gravy.
The only reason she was allowing him to help was because he’d insisted. She hadn’t been able to stop him from clattering a skillet on the stove and making the stuff.
“The vegetables are fine,” she reassured him, but gave the Crock-Pot a peek just in case. Yeah, they still looked good.
“How long has it been since you’ve basted the roast?” he asked her.
“Cameron, will you leave the woman alone?” Pamela scolded her son. “I’m sure she’s capable of cooking her own meal without your interference.”
Audrey resisted the urge to stick her tongue out and swore she heard him mutter, “Not happening” under his breath.
“That gravy doesn’t look like it’s thick enough,” she told Cameron.
Pamela hid a smile behind her wineglass.
Cameron lifted a brow. “It’ll be plenty thick. You’re not supposed to add the flour all at once.”
“And you haven’t put enough drippings in it,” she pressed, because…well, because she wanted to.
Cameron set his spoon down and turned to face Audrey. Behind them, Pamela muttered, “Uh-oh.”
“You want to come over here so I can show you how it’s done right?”
Audrey opened her mouth, then had the feeling he wasn’t talking about gravy. His question had too much of a seductive tone. For a second she thought about taking him up on his offer, but with an audience, she knew it would be a bad idea. She didn’t want to give Pamela the wrong impression about their relationship. She didn’t want to give her false hope.
Or maybe you’re more worried about giving yourself false hope?
No, that definitely wasn’t it.
She gestured toward the gravy. “Just make sure it has plenty of flavor. I like my gravy meaty.”
Cameron lifted a brow as though to say, Thought so.
“I see you finally patched up the curtains, Cam,” his mother said.
Cameron tossed another spoonful of flour into the gravy. “Actually, Audrey fixed those,” he said casually, as though she had the right to go around mending his things.
“How nice,” Pamela beamed. “And I’m assuming you sewed up the pillows too?”
The throw pillows on Cameron’s couch had been coming apart at the seams. The only reason why Audrey had fixed them was because she got tired of hearing him complain about constantly having to restuff them.
Yeah, that’s why.
“Just trying to show my gratitude for Cameron letting us stay here.”
Cameron snorted and muttered, “Bullshit” under his breath.
Pamela nodded, but Audrey had the feeling she didn’t buy Audrey’s lame reason. Hell, Audrey didn’t buy it either.
“And are you also responsible for the ceiling fans suddenly being dust free?” Pamela prodded.
Okay, Audrey had spent a day over here doing some housework. So sue her. Piper had been at school, and Audrey had had a few hours to herself. So she’d let herself in the back door, sewn the tear in the curtains, patched the throw pillows, and dusted the fans. She’d also vacuumed, mopped, and polished the furniture. Cameron may have been wicked in the kitchen, but he was a lousy housekeeper. Audrey hadn’t minded; tidying up Cameron’s house had felt so domestic.
“Yeah, that was me,” she finally answered. When both of Pamela’s brows lifted, Audrey rushed to explain more. “I was just giving the place some TLC. No big deal.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Audrey saw Cameron slant her a look, but she refused to glance his way. She didn’t want him to see how important it had been for her to show her gratitude even though she’d still been pissed at him.
“Well, I think the place looks good,” Pamela commented instead of calling Audrey out on her bullshit. “Who knows what Cam will do without you when you leave.”
Audrey paused with her water bottle halfway to her mouth. She forced herself to drink just as Cameron cleared his throat while he stirred the gravy. Yeah, he wasn’t the only one who didn’t know what to say, or how to look, or how to act.
The impulsive side of her wanted to stroke a hand over his shoulder and reassure him that he didn’t need to be tense around her, that he hadn’t screwed anything up, that she wanted to finish their conversation and maybe explore things further. But she didn’t want to scare him off, so she decided to wait a few more days.
“By the way, you’re out of soda,” Pamela announced. “Do you have a grocery list I can add it to?”
“There’s a pad of paper in the drawer,” Audrey jumped in. She barely resisted slapping a hand over her mouth as Pamela stared at her and Cameron smirked. Funny how she’d come to know Cameron’s house so easily, how she moved from one room to the next, picking up his shoes and placing them by the front door so he wouldn’t forget them, making sure the newspaper got brought in before it rained, because she knew he liked to read it at the kitchen counter.
When had they fallen into such a comfortable routine?
“Okay,” Pamela said slowly. “Thanks.” But when she opened the drawer, her actions froze. “Um, Cameron?” she said, and she reached a hand in the drawer and pulled out about a dozen yellow Post-it notes. Every single note Audrey and Cameron had left for each other over the past two months. “Are you planning on doing some scrapbooking?”
Audrey damn near spit out her water and just barely managed to get the stuff down. She noticed Cameron only offered his mom a quick glance, then went back to his gravy. He probably thought he could shrug off the fact that he’d saved every Post-it she’d written him, but the way his hand tightened around the spoon gave him away.
He hadn’t wanted anyone to find those. But if not, why had he placed them in a drawer that
