“Yeah, I’ll pass. You’re a dick for no reason. I have no desire to meet anyone worse than you.”
“What if I apologized?” His words come as a shock. I can’t imagine him apologizing. I don’t know if I want him apologizing. It’s easier to hate him, to remind myself that even through the charm he sometimes shows me, deep down he’s an asshole. At least, that’s what I choose to believe.
“I wouldn’t believe it.”
He nods, looking back at the sculpture in front of us. “It’s time I get back to my opening.”
My eyes go wide because I’d totally forgotten why we were here in the first place. I’m supposed to be serving food. He’s supposed to be selling art—even though the most stunning piece I’ve seen tonight is the one not for sale in front of us.
“Right.” I rush to get out. In my attempts to scurry out of the office, I almost run right into him. We both move to the left at the same moment, our bodies narrowly colliding with one another.
Camden grabs me by the arms to steady me. He opens his mouth to say something, but I beat him to it.
“Before you say anything, that was your fault, not mine.”
A chuckle rumbles deep in his chest. “I was going to say thank you for saving me tonight. People might be talking about the food more than the art.”
The fact that he’s not being a total jerk disarms me. “Yeah, of course.” I fumble on my words, not knowing how to respond to him. I was expecting an insult, for him to comment on how I ran into him again.
I don’t say anything else. I book it out of the room as my mind races about what just happened.
Did Camden Hunter just say something nice to me?
11
CAMDEN
I take a second before going back to the event. Pippa walked out the door a few minutes ago, yet I haven’t moved since she left. It still smells like her in my office, the scent of her surrounding me, even though I’d prefer it not to. I don’t like how she smells unlike any woman I know. I’m used to the scent of a few different expensive perfumes. All women in my circle wear the same handful of fragrances. They’re either way too flowery or way too overpowering.
Pippa doesn’t smell like either. Everywhere she goes, she leaves the scent of vanilla and strawberries. I find myself taking a deep inhale, hating myself for wanting to get another waft of her.
I stare ahead of me at the statue in the corner of my office. It’s something I almost didn’t bring with me from Manhattan. It wasn’t intended to be sold; there was no reason for me to bring it with me. But I couldn’t help it.
And now after watching Pippa marvel at it, I’m wondering if maybe it has a chance to sell. Maybe I should give it a chance.
I’m so lost in thought that I don’t even notice the door to my office opening. I don’t see the person until he comes to a stop in front of me, softly clearing his throat to get my attention.
“Everything okay in here?” Beck asks, looking at me with concern.
My back straightens as I look up to make eye contact with him. He watches me warily, which I don’t blame him for. He witnessed me kick out a man who is very prominent in our social circle and then disappear, pulling someone by the arm into my office. It probably doesn’t add up to him.
I let out a slow breath. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
He chuckles, running a hand over his mouth. I hate it, but he’s known me almost my entire life. Beck can read me like a damn book, no matter how much I hate it. We’ve had the same friend group since we were in school, but he and I have always been the closest. He’s my best friend. Which is great occasionally, but times like right now, it’s rather inconvenient.
“Because you basically just told someone who spends a lot of money on art to fuck right off.”
“I don’t want his money,” I snarl.
Beck’s hands come up in front of him defensively. “Calm down.” He laughs. “I gathered that by the way you basically shoved him out the door, no matter who was watching.”
“He’s an asshole.”
“Everyone here is an asshole,” Beck responds.
I throw a dirty look his way. I hate that he has a response for everything. Apparently, I need to find a friend who doesn’t like to talk at all.
“I should probably go back out there and make money off the assholes.”
“Probably should. Although I know Margo is doing a great job out there in your absence.”
This makes me laugh. Margo is my most profitable artist. I wouldn’t tell her this, but I also consider her one of my closest friends, even though we work together. Margo’s hard to not like. Plus, she makes Beck happy. He’ll always be an asshole in my mind, but he’s a lot more tolerable to be around now that he finally has his girl and they’re happily married.