Not the Stand In: A BBW New Adult Serial Romance (Not the Hot Chick series Book 2) (2 page)

"Yeah, that's me," he deadpanned.

The brunette sat at a table in a far corner with a couple of her friends. She faced Layla, looking daggers at her before whispering to the other girls. They glanced over their shoulders and shot laser glares at her, or maybe at Cam.

Layla did her best to ignore them while she and Cam ate and filled each other in on their lives since they'd last met. Layla had survived student teaching and graduated with her BS in childhood education.

"Now I just need to find a job." She gave him a rueful smile. "I'm subbing a lot and tutoring a few nights and weekends. Scraping by till I can get something full-time."

He nodded sympathetically. "It's tough out there. Hang tight, though. You'll find something."

"I hope so."

"What made you decide to stay here, anyway? A lot of people can't wait to get out of this town."

"Well, there's a lot more going on here than in Starling Falls, New York."

"Where?" Cam asked.

"My home town, if you can even call it a town. Nothing's there for me except my family. No job prospects. Hell, there aren't even any falls there anymore. And after four years here, well, I've come to like it." She sighed. "Now all I need is full time employment before I turn forty."

"It'll happen. You're a good teacher. Someone's bound to snap you up."

She thought she
was
a good teacher, or at least had the makings of one. It warmed her that he thought so, too. "What makes you so sure? You've never seen me in a classroom."

"Hey, I remember that picture you had on the fridge. From one of the kids in your class. What's his name again?"

"Henry." The little boy had drawn her portrait in crayon. It still held a place of honor on her refrigerator. Layla was surprised that Cam remembered the drawing.

"Yeah. You care about your kids. That shows you're a good teacher."

Of course there was a lot more to it than that, but she wasn't about to downplay his compliment or his faith in her. Both felt good. "Thanks."

She then asked him how things were going at the Shamrock, not only his place of work but his family's business. One day he hoped to assume ownership. His face lit up when he talked about the bar/restaurant and the plans he had for its future.

She recalled what he'd told the brunette. "And you're still taking classes."

"Yeah, business courses."

Not only was he hot, he was ambitious and hardworking. Layla was just as impressed with him now as she'd been the first night they met.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Cam's former hookup glaring at her again. Layla directed her attention back to Cam. "What's her name?"

He spoke through a mouthful of pizza. "What?"

"The girl you were talking to a few minutes ago. What's her name?"

"Uh…Blair…Bella…" He shook his head. "Something with a
B
."

"You can't remember?" Proof positive that he'd had booty calls by the dozens. She couldn't imagine not knowing all her partners' names. "Jeez, how many girls have you been with?"

His mouth screwed up in annoyance. "I don't exactly keep score."

"Well, thank God for that, anyway."

"I know, I know, it sounds bad." He didn't seem too embarrassed, though. He shrugged and added "I'm a bartender." As though that explained everything. He wagged a finger at her. "I'm over twenty-one, single, and free. What's with the slut-shaming?"

Layla sighed. "You're right. My bad." After all, it was none of her affair who he got busy with. And she had no right to feel even the merest smidgen of jealousy.

No right at all, got that?

At the other table, Blair-Bella, or whatever her name was, sneered and tossed her hair back in a gesture that instantly reminded Layla of Jessi.

But that wasn't the only similarity. Blair-Bella had a banging body and the face of a cover girl. Just like Jessi, she was a hot chick, with all the attitude that entailed.

But he didn't remember her name. He remembered yours, though.

Did that make her special?

No. She was being stupid, giving meaning to something that had only been an interlude. Their night together. It might have been special to Layla, but to Cam it had been just another run-of-the-mill hookup.

You were conveniently there, that's all.

Again she felt that fiery sensation in her middle. This time it traveled up into her chest and throat. And the red pepper wasn't the cause.

No, it was Jessi's hateful words ringing in her memory:
"It's not like he'd fuck you."

It was the brunette's hair toss and look of contempt.
Top this, bitch.

Layla moved her gaze from Cam, who was chewing the last of his pizza, to the Blair-Bella girl. She stared unblinkingly at Layla, and this time Layla stared right back.

He's with me, isn't he?
Layla told her silently.
Not with you. Yeah, I'll top it, bitch. You bet I will.

Last time she had been the runner-up, the stand-in. But what if tonight she could be Cam's first choice?

She eyed Cam, who had no clue how the cogs were turning in her brain. He'd been the perfect gentleman tonight, polite and friendly. After the first few awkward moments, they'd eased into conversation almost like old friends. He'd made no reference to their night together, and no hint that he wanted a repeat performance.

But he'd been into her that night, no question. They'd burned up the sheets. Layla felt a tingle as she remembered how he'd made her come twice—first teasing her to orgasm with his fingers, then insisting she get on top and ride him.

He'd wanted her once. Could she make him want her again?

The tingle became a chill, turning her palms clammy. She'd never seduced anyone before. What if she made a mess of it? What if Cam thought she was crazy, or worse, felt sorry for her?

Once again that door yawned open, the one she'd faced the night she and Cam hooked up. The choice between taking a chance and risking rejection or letting fear win and forever regretting the road not taken.

One last look at the chick whose name started with
B
cemented her decision.
I'm going for it.

Cam, blissfully ignorant of her struggle, sucked down his last bit of pop, wincing at the slurping sound of his straw. "Sorry." He wiped his mouth with a napkin and sat back, politely waiting for Layla to finish her meal.

No longer hungry, she looked down at the slice left on her plate. "I'm done."

"You sure?" He eyed her plate. "Uh, do you mind if I…?"

She pushed it toward him. "Help yourself."

He accepted it happily, folded it in half, and took a big bite. His appetite belied his lean frame. Where did he put it all? At least the food wouldn't go to waste.

Her palms grew damper and the hair on the back of her neck prickled. Their meal was almost over. He'd have no reason to linger. If she wanted to make a move, she needed to do it now, before he got away.

But her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, as though she had a mouthful of peanut butter. She couldn't speak. Her panic grew as he made quick work of the cheese slice.

Say something, dummy!

But what? Her mind was a total blank.

He stuffed the last bit of crust into his mouth and chewed, grabbing another napkin to wipe his greasy hands.

"How about we get a drink after this?" The words popped from her mouth of their own volition, before her brain had a chance to censor them.

He went still a moment, then blinked rapidly. Layla's stomach churned with dread. "You want to get a drink?"

She ducked her chin in a quick nod. "Yeah. That is, if you don't have plans."

He crumpled the napkin slowly. "No, no plans. I mean, I have to go in to work later tonight, but I've got some time. Sure, let's do it."

Layla hoped he'd agreed because he wanted to, not because he was too polite to say no. She had to give him a way out. "It's all right if you don't feel like it. Don't be worried about hurting my feelings."

His expression turned serious, and when he spoke, his tone was almost reproachful. "I don't say things I don't mean, Layla."

All righty, then
. She pushed back from the table. "Awesome. So where would you like to go?"

As she and Cam left Federico's together, Layla felt Blair-Bella's eyes burning holes in her. She did her very best not to gloat.

Since Cam had to work in a few hours, they decided to go to the Shamrock. Because it was still early on a week night, they had no trouble finding a table. "What would you like?" he asked as Layla took her seat.

Just as she was about to ask for a beer, she remembered her plan to seduce him. What had Jessi ordered the night they came here? Oh, right. "I'd like a Hard Fast Screw." Layla looked him straight in the eye and hoped she wasn't blushing as she ordered the bar's version of a screwdriver.

A light glinted in his hazel eyes and he pressed his lips together as though trying not to smile. "Coming right up."

Layla let go a sigh as he headed to the bar for their drinks. Channeling Jessi seemed to do the trick. Tonight, Layla decided, her mantra would be WWJD: What Would Jessi Do?

Cam returned to the table with her cocktail and his bottle of beer. "Cheers." He clinked the mouth of his bottle to the rim of her glass and they both drank. The tangy juice slid easily down Layla's throat. She couldn't taste the vodka but felt its kick as it landed in her stomach. Warmth pooled in her middle and spiraled through her.

She admired him as she sipped her drink. The separate parts of his face—his square jaw, his strong chin with a hint of a cleft, his straight nose—all came together beautifully. Add to that his dark, wavy hair and a pair of greenish-brown eyes flecked with gold and he was a perfect work of art. And when he smiled… God. It was enough to make any girl drop her panties.

Fear fluttered through her. Was she crazy, thinking she could get with him a second time? He had his pick of women. Just looking around the bar, Layla spotted two or three cute, hot girls who were much more his type than she was. She felt a sudden urge to slug back the rest of her drink and bounce before she made a complete idiot of herself.

No, you're not going to run. You have to try.
The worst he can do is say no.

She sucked in a deep breath and scraped up all her courage, then maneuvered her chair closer to the table to purposely bump Cam's knee. He went still a moment, pausing as he brought the bottle to his lips. His eyes narrowed as though gauging her intent. But he didn't shift away. In fact, he seemed to settle his weight so their knees made fuller contact.

"How's that drink?" he asked, his voice lower by an octave.

"Delicious," she answered, managing to keep her voice steady.

Their eyes connected. Heat sizzled between them. "Good." He tipped the bottle to his mouth and drank. After swallowing, he licked his lips. "Nothing I like better than a hard, fast screw."

Lust flooded her as the air between them crackled with tension. She had the sense he was waiting on her to make the next move. Maybe testing her, seeing how far she'd go?

Come on, girl, up your game. Think. What would Jessi do?

Lean forward and flash her boobs. But Layla hadn't anticipated the need to show off her assets. The top she wore wasn't cut low enough to flash anything. She went with Plan B instead and slowly ran her calf along Cam's leg. Her breath hitched and her panties flooded when he shifted to open his legs, caught her knee between them, and held her fast.

The gold flecks in his eyes flickered like sparks. "You're playing with fire, little Layla."

Her pulse raced with excitement. It was working!

Keep it up. Don't back down now that you've got him interested.

But short of flinging herself across the table at him, what was her next move?

Get him alone.

She licked her lips and cleared her throat. "So. What's a girl gotta do to get the fifty-cent tour around here?"

"You want to check the place out?"

I want to check you out, but first I need to get you alone.
"Sure. I've never been behind the scenes of a bar before. I bet there's a lot of interesting nooks and crannies to explore…" She let her voice trail off mysteriously.

"One or two, I guess." He took one more swallow of beer, letting her hang for a moment. He squeezed her knee between his own, sending her a look that told her he knew exactly what she was up to.

He clapped the bottle down on the table and
stood. "All right, then. Fifty-cent tour it is."

She stood too and came around to him. He rested his hand lightly on her waist. "Well, you've seen this section before." He gestured to the guy wiping down the bar. "That guy there is Paulie. Hey, Paulie, say hi to my friend Layla here."

The young bartender gave her a short wave. "Hi, Layla."

She nodded a greeting. "Hey, Paulie."

Cam pointed to a door off to the side. "Back that way's the kitchen." The Shamrock served finger foods and light meals like burgers and sandwiches. "I'd take you back there, but the cook's kind of touchy. Doesn't like his space invaded."

"That's cool." Layla wasn't interested in the kitchen, anyway. She just wanted someplace she and Cam could be private.

"Nothing much to see there, anyway. Couple of fridges, stoves, a deep fryer." He pointed to a set of stairs leading up. "Second floor there's a room for large parties. Bachelor parties, showers, that kind of thing."

"Okay." She tugged him toward a hallway. "And bathrooms down here, right?"

"That's right." As they moved further down the hall he pointed to a door straight ahead. "And out that back door is a lot behind the building. Employees can park their cars there and head out for a smoke break when it's slow."

"And meet up for quickies when they're horny." She gave him a look. "Wasn't that where you planned to hook up with Jessi?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, but all I did that night was take her home. You know that. You were there."

"That night, yeah. But she came back, didn't she?" Though she'd only wondered before, Layla was certain now that Jessi had done exactly that. "For a whatta-ya-call, a rain check."