Dare Me

Pulling her hand out of her pants, she gave up. She was never going to get to sleep if she didn’t stop projecting wildly about a man she barely knew.

All she had was a feeling.

Cameron Crawford would come through for her. For one perfect night. Was that too much to hope for?

Sighing, she avoided answering her own question and started counting the seconds, determined to get to five hundred or fall asleep trying.

She reached eight hundred and nine.

* * *

“I’M GONNA CALL HER.” It was Tuesday afternoon and Emmy was prepping condiments while Cameron worked at the small table in the corner of the bar’s kitchen. “As a friend,” he said. “Just, you know, make sure she’s okay.”

Emmy was quiet for so long, Cam looked up. She wasn’t looking at him. In fact, she was standing at the sink washing limes, but there was no doubt she was judging him.

“I’m not going to make a big deal out of it. Besides, I’ll hear it in her voice if she doesn’t want to talk to me.” Hell, she probably wouldn’t even answer. Stupid caller ID. There weren’t any surprises left in life.

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

He glanced down at his newest recipe for a cream ale. Although he hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep last night, at least he’d come up with what he thought was a viable design for a unique brew. But his mind wasn’t on the new ale. It was stuck on all the things he wished he’d said to Molly.

What the hell? Last time he’d checked, he wasn’t a teenage girl.

Closing his eyes, he let his chin drop to his chest. “I should go back to bed. Fifteen minutes is all I need. I read an article. Fifteen, twenty minutes is supposed to leave me refreshed but not groggy.” He looked at his sister again. “It sounds like torture. Maybe that’s why it works. I’ll end up so pissed off that I couldn’t enjoy my nap, it’ll knock that groggy shit right out.”

Emmy laughed. Turned off the water. “What’s gotten into you? You must have really liked Molly, because you never mention women you go out with. Even the ones that keep you out all night.”

He wasn’t about to tell Emmy how the date had actually ended. Way too much information, and just...no. “We didn’t really finish our conversation, that’s all. She was nice. Interesting.”

“Your conversation. Uh-huh.”

“I’m tired. Leave me alone. Actually, talk to Jade. She’s trying to set me up with someone from her gym. I told her about the trading cards, but I could tell she’s got something cooking.”

“Fine. I’ll talk to her. Just do me a favor. Don’t call Molly. You sound pathetic.”

“Thanks a lot.” He was supposed to finish writing this damn recipe, then go help pitch the yeast into the wort. Eric was running the floor in back, and the crew would do just fine without him, but an extra hand was never turned away. They’d all helped him with his small-brew experiments. Yeah, that was part of what they got paid to do, but it never felt like that, not in the brewery or the bar. You made the payroll, you became part of The Four Sisters family.

“Don’t forget to talk to Jade.”

“Yes, sir.” Emmy turned back to her prepping, and Cam left the kitchen. Left the bar. Only to go upstairs to his apartment.

His dad had had this addition built. There’d been plenty of times that a place to crash had been a blessing, and Cam was sure everyone would be relieved when he went back to Syracuse. Fridays and Saturdays the bar was open until four in the morning. A lot of people had crashed in the bed upstairs.

It wasn’t even that noisy. The contractor had previously worked on sound booths and editing facilities, and he’d made sure not much noise bled upstairs. Nothing they could do about the vibrations, but Cam was used to the pulse of the jukebox.

Halfway up, his cell phone rang, and when he saw it was Molly, he hurried up the rest of the stairs. He didn’t answer until he was inside the apartment with the door shut behind him.

“Hi. It’s Molly.”

“I know. How are you?”

“I’m fine. Good. I mean, I’m completely stuck on this column I’m writing, but other than that, everything’s fine.”

“I’m glad. Not about being stuck. About...” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He could do better. “I was impressed when I saw that you blocked out time on your calendar for writing and stuff.”

“I just wanted people to know that I have office hours. That it would be better not to call when I was working.”

“Do they anyway?”

She laughed. “All the time.”

“It was worth a try, though, huh?”

“Yeah.”

He could hear the smile in her voice.

“I’m still awfully sorry for how I left things,” she said, using her serious voice again. “It wasn’t very nice of me.”

“It’s okay. It really is. Especially now that you’ve called back.”

“Right. About that rain check.”

“Say when.”

She was silent for several beats—enough time for him to realize he’d jumped the gun again. Why couldn’t he wait for the punch line with her?

“Well, actually, I was thinking about Friday night. Except there’s a catch.”

He sat down on the one really comfortable chair in the apartment. The place wasn’t big. A round table and chairs next to a tiny kitchen that wasn’t much more than a cooktop, a dorm fridge, a microwave and a sink. There was also a bathroom—shower only, no tub—and a queen-size bed. The good chair wasn’t huge, just comfortable. “I’m listening,” he said, wondering what the catch could possibly be.

“There’s a thing I need to go to. A banquet, actually. It’s a wine thing, so there’ll be fantastic drinks and food. But it’s formal, so yeah, a tux would help, and there’ll be some speeches, so that won’t be fun. Except when I say there’ll be great wine, I mean it. All the top vineyards send their best stuff.”

“A banquet?”

“Yeah. For the industry. Wine writers. It’s an international association, and people come from all over to attend. I don’t think you’ll be too bored. There’ll be nice people at our table. Really nice people. Like Donna. My editor. She’s the editor in chief of the magazine, and she’s hilarious. She’s completely New York and doesn’t give a damn who likes her or not, so she never holds back. I know she’d like you, too.”

Cam should stop her. He’d already decided to go. Hell, if she’d asked him to accompany her to the moon, he’d have rented an astronaut suit. A tuxedo was nothing.

“It sounds great and the tux isn’t a problem. You just tell me what time and where to show up.”

“Really?’

He grinned and stretched out in his chair, putting his free hand behind his head. “Really. So, is this a mandatory work thing, or is this something you like doing?”

“I’m always amazed I get to go, although they usually charge for a place at the table.”

“What’s unusual about this time?”