She glanced around her, like she thought I might be talking to someone else. “Cameron Hamilton . . . hi.”

I leaned forward, dropping an arm over the steering wheel. She looked damn cute standing there, fidgeting with her bracelet. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

Biting down on that plump lower lip, her gaze dropped, zeroing in on my tattoo as she shifted her weight from foot to foot.

Shortcake was definitely what I would categorize as awkward. Maybe it came from having a younger sister, because the need to make her feel comfortable rode me hard, but it seemed like fighting a losing battle.

“You running into me, me almost running over you?” I elaborated. “It’s like we’re a catastrophe waiting to happen.”

Silence.

Try this one more time. “Where are you heading?”

“My car,” she said, proving to me that she could speak. “I’m about to run out of time. She shifted her weight again. “So . . .”

“Well, hop in, sweetheart. I can give you a ride.”

She stared at me like I asked her to get in the back of my kidnapper van. “No. It’s okay. I’m right up the hill. No need at all.”

“It’s no problem.” Never had met a female so damn resistant to common courtesy. “It’s the least I can do after almost running you over.”

“Thank you, but—”

“Yo! Cam!” Kevin came out of fucking nowhere, jogging past Avery. “What you up to, man?”

Oddly irritated, I kept my gaze on Shortcake and resisted the urge to nudge the dude out of the way with my truck. “Nothing, Kevin, just trying to have a conversation.”

Avery raised her hand, wiggled her fingers, and bolted around Kevin and my truck. My gaze followed her as Kevin went on and on about some shit I didn’t give a flying fuck about.

“Shit,” I muttered, sitting back in the seat.

Avery ran again.

And I had the craziest urge to give chase.

Two

Shit got real at our parties the second Ollie had Raphael out of his habitat. Every single fucking time. Standing in the middle of the living room, I watched him, shaking my head.

“Why?” Jase asked, tipping the bottle of his beer back.

I snickered. “Don’t you think if I knew why, I’d find a way to stop him?”

“I think it’s cute,” said a soft, feminine voice.

Jase and I turned toward the couch. No one sat quite the way Stephanie Keith did. One long, shapely tanned leg hooked over the knee of the other in the perfect picture of modesty. But the goddamn denim skirt of hers was as modest as Ollie after taking a shower. If I moved my head just a fraction of inch to the right and tipped my chin down, which I had about three minutes ago, I could see the curve of her ass cheek.

Steph was a thong girl.

Or a no-panties girl depending on her mood, and it was looking like she might be in the mood. Steph leaned forward slightly, crossing slender arms under her breasts, giving me and anyone else who happened to be looking—quick check told me Jase was—a nice view of her tits. And they were nice. I’d seen them up close and personal quite a few times. Those baby-blue eyes of hers promised a happy ending and they were fixed on mine.

Surprisingly, there was absolutely no shrinking of my nylon shorts in the crotch area, which was a damn waste of tits and ass.

Half of Jase’s frat would give their left nut to be on the receiving end of Stephanie’s attention. There was a time I gave my right one, back when I couldn’t even keep track of who was who, but that felt like ages ago, back when the idea of staying with one girl made me want to chew off my own arm. Now?

Well, shit, I didn’t know what I wanted now. Hadn’t for a while, which probably explained why I wasn’t scooping Steph up, taking her back to my bedroom, and dropping pants.

Steph was a good girl, but the time of giving up my right nut had long since passed.

Averting my gaze to where Ollie was dancing in front of the TV, holding the squirming Raphael in the air, I took a drink of my beer. “He’s molesting my tortoise.”

She laughed as she stood. “I don’t think that’s what he’s doing.” One arm wrapped around mine and she put her chin on my shoulder. A sheet of inky black hair slipped over the bare skin of my chest. “But I wouldn’t mind being molested.”

Over the music, I heard the oven timer go off. Gently disentangling myself, I shot Jase a look. An unsympathetic grin crossed his face. Bastard. “Be right back.”

Dodging guys, I trotted into the kitchen before Steph could respond. The girl wasn’t going to be that disappointed with my lack of interest. I’d bet ten bucks she’d moved on to Jase or someone else by the time I got back in.

I sat the beer down on the counter and opened the oven door, inhaling the aroma of freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies. And not that premade crap. This shit was from scratch.

And they would be banging.

Setting the sheet aside, I flipped off the oven and scooped up a cookie. So hot, the dough sunk in, squeezing the tiny chips of chocolate onto the chunks of walnut. I broke the cookie in half and popped it into my mouth.

“Fuck,” I groaned.

Burned like holy fucking hell, but it was worth it. Washing it down with my beer, I stepped out of the kitchen just in time to see Ollie heading toward the front door. With Raphael.

“Oh, come the hell on.” I put my beer down.

“Be free, little green buddy,” he coaxed, kissing Raphael’s shell. “Be free.”

“Bring Raphael back!” I yelled, laughing as Ollie drunk-karate-kicked the front door the rest of the way open. “You fucktard!”

Ollie put Raphael down and gently nudged his shell. “Free.”

Grabbing his arm, I spun him around and pushed him back into the apartment. Laughing, Ollie grabbed Steph’s friend and lifted her over his shoulder. A riot of squeals broke out.

I scooped up the tortoise. “Sorry, Raphael. My friends are complete, fucking . . .” A strange tingle broke out across my neck. I looked to my left and then my right, seeing Avery standing in a doorway, her brown eyes wide. “Assholes. What the . . . ?”

I hadn’t drunk nearly enough to be hallucinating, but I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that Shortcake was standing in my apartment building. The apartment had been empty whenever I’d been around over the summer, but someone, obviously, could’ve moved in.

And based on the way she was dressed, someone she was very familiar with. The cotton shorts were short, ending at the thigh, and my gaze got hung up on her legs. They were long, not too skinny and perfectly shaped. Who would’ve thought Shortcake would be rocking a pair of legs like that? Blood shot straight to my groin. The long-sleeve shirt she wore covered everything, but it was thin.

Hell yeah, it was thin.

Her breasts were soft swells under the shirt, fuller than they had felt pressed against my chest earlier, and those tips . . .

Her cheeks flushed several shades of pink. “Hey . . .”

I blinked and when she didn’t disappear and neither did my sudden, raging hard-on, I assumed she was real. “Avery Morgansten? This is becoming a habit.”

“Yeah,” she said. “It is.”

“Do you live here or are you visiting . . . ?” Raphael started squirming.

She cleared her throat, watching the tortoise. “I . . . I live here.”

“No shit?” Holy crap. I made my way around the railing to the stairwell and toward her door. I didn’t miss how her eyes went to my abs. I liked. So did my cock. “You really live here?”

“Yes. I really live here.”

“This is . . . I don’t even know.” I laughed, somewhat dumbstruck. “Really crazy.”

“Why?” Confusion marked her pretty face, crinkling the skin between the delicate brows.

“I live here.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You’re joking, right?”

“No. I’ve been living here for a while—like a couple of years with my roommate. You know, the fucktard who put poor Raphael outside.”