Just For You (4 page)

"First of all, I don't say 'pretty young lady.'"

Sylvia didn't hear him. "---and we're going out on a date Friday evening. How's Alex? How are Bobby and Sarah doing? How are the girls? When is their next dance recital? I'd like to be there. Which, if you're interested in knowing (not that you would be), is next Saturday at four at the elementary school. Phone lines work both ways, you know! As a mother, the woman who birthed you and cared for you and raised you, I am ashamed that I can't even tell my friends who my son is. Wouldn't you say that's a little sad?"

All the rhetorical questions she was asking were making Cameron's head spin. The guilt trip was really about to start and he wanted no part in hearing it. It was time to cut her off.

"Mom…" He moaned.

"I don't care what you say, you're going to spend some time with us, whether you want to or not, young man."

"Oh, can we please just cut that out right now?" Cameron sat up. He felt his ears go hot. "Stop speaking to me like I'm a child."

"You're my child, Cameron. You are my child and I am your mother and you are going to either buy a train ticket or rent a car so that you can be here on the weekend of the 23rd of April. That's a Friday. A month and a half from now. Do you understand me?"

"Clearly." The word was monosyllabic and clipped.

"I love you. Goodbye."

Cameron stared off into space for a few minutes as he listened to the whining beep of the disconnected line. Grinding his teeth, he shook his head, opened his laptop, and started searching for a deal on a rental car.

* * * *

Three weeks. Three glorious, glorious weeks Cameron enjoyed without so much as catching a glimpse of Imogen. Then she had to just up and show up at
his
grocery store. The nerve.

He ducked behind the soda boxes at the front of the store, which had been stacked to create a small yet impressive pyramid, as she turned her head. Close call.

Part of him seriously entertained the thought of abandoning his full shopping cart right then and there so he could make a run for it, but he was down to basic necessities at home- basically just a quarter jug of orange juice and a single slice of cheese- and he really needed the food.

His empty stomach took precedence; he was just going to have to run the risk of running into her again. Hopefully this time she would escape him unscathed. Or, he smiled to himself, carefully trying to pull out a pack of sodas from a strategic spot within the pyramid so as not to knock the entire thing over, maybe she would leave with an injury to the mouth which would leave her unable to speak.

Yes, that would be nice.

She was standing at the small refrigerator which housed the flowers, and she had two bouquets in her hands, one an arrangement of colorful wildflowers and tulips, the other of red and white carnations. She was smelling them, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths, then holding them away and scrutinizing them.

Cameron watched her, waiting for her to leave before he would move. He made sure to stay hidden behind the soda pyramid.

Minutes passed and she was still standing with the flowers in her hands, alternately sniffing and then inspecting. Cameron rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. How long did it take to pick a damn bouquet of flowers?

He gritted his teeth and set to looking at the nice selection of cakes and pies on sale for half off. He really didn't need to purchase any but they were right in front of his face, they were on sale, and he was bored. Plus, the vanilla flavored pudding pie was just begging for him to take home and eat in front of the TV while he watched a nice baseball game.

Finally Imogen left her post, deciding to go with the wildflower and tulip flower combination, and Cameron sighed with relief. Now he was free to make his way over to the beer, which was the last thing on his grocery list, and a necessity it would be if he ever expected to enjoy those baseball games.

He looked twice over his shoulder to make sure she hadn't somehow snuck up on him, glanced left and right, and straight ahead, and, deciding the coast was clear, set off in the beer-ward direction.

He was just placing the second case of Bud Light© into his basket when he saw her toes, painted cotton-candy pink and wiggling with annoying excitement.

Cameron felt his whole body fall and he cursed under his breath. "Why me? Why?"

Did God or the universe have some personal vendetta against him?

"Cameron?"

Her voice was as sweet as her cotton-candy toes and he grimaced. Standing up slowly and pushing the curls from his eyes he gave her a tight-lipped smile. She beamed at him in response.

"Small world," she said. "Never thought I'd run into you at the grocery store, of all places."

Damn it all, Cameron was screaming inside his head.

"It was bound to happen sooner or later." Cameron forced the words from his lips but they were not friendly. "That's what happens when you live in the same city as someone else."

Imogen didn't answer but instead focused her attention on the food inside his cart. He watched as her eyes roamed about the various items. He stood quietly and started to tap his foot, hoping she would get the hint that he was in a hurry and that she should let him go.

"Lots of beer."

He nodded.

"I'm going to buy these flowers." She motioned to the bouquet in her cart. "Do you think they would look nice as a table centerpiece? I've been trying desperately to get my apartment here to feel more warm but I'm having a hard time. It's difficult to do when the rest of it is pretty bare," she chuckled. "I thought some color would be nice. What do you think?"

Cameron let his eyes fall on the flowers for a millisecond before turning them back to the cases of beer sitting in the refrigerators. He nodded again. "Yeah. They'll look nice."

Imogen tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and giggled. "I'm sorry. This is boring for you. What man cares about flowers?"

Cameron started tapping out a new rhythm with his toes.

"My ankle's better." Imogen stuck her foot out and moved it this way and that. "I'm wearing heels again," she said, pointing to the strappy wedges she wore. "I visited a doctor, just to be sure. He said that my ankle was healing fine. I told him the whole story and he told me I should be more careful. I've started taking his advice, you know. You're not going to throw me to the ground again, are you?" Her eyes glittered playfully as she teased.

Cameron shook his head. "No. Scout's honor. You said you went to the doctor?"

She nodded.

Drat. Cameron felt the heavy guilt settling in his stomach again. "Look, if you send me the bill I can pay for it. Least I can do…" he trailed off and shrugged his shoulders. He felt bad; he hadn't meant to land her in the hospital.

The smile on Imogen's face spread from ear-to-ear. "Oh, Cameron. You don't have to worry about that. My insurance covered it. How nice of you to offer, though."

He nodded. "Well---"

"Are you hungry?"

He was about to say no but his stomach gave him away, growling right as the words left her mouth. Cameron could have punched something.

"Ah!" Imogen interjected when Cameron opened his mouth. Her pointer finger faced him accusingly, as if she were a judge and he the condemned criminal. "You are."

Her smile was one of decided triumph.

"How about you come over to my place? I make a killer sandwich. Plus I have these pretty flowers. You can't turn down a sandwich and pretty flowers, right?"

Cameron tried to smile but it looked more like a wince. "Geeze, Imogen, that's really nice and everything but I…"

"It's not a date. Would you calm down? It's just a sandwich for crying out loud. Plus, I mean, it's the least I could do since you've been so nice to me and all."

Nice? This girl was either blind or stupid. Cameron's eyebrows furrowed. "Imogen, I twisted your ankle. Shouldn't I be the one buying you lunch?"

It was difficult to follow this girl's logic. She was all over the place. He felt as if she were a labyrinth maze he was caught and lost in. Once he thought he'd found a way out, he'd hit a wall or figure out that he was just traveling in circles.

Imogen laughed and fiddled with her dangling earring. "It doesn't matter that much, does it? Anyway, I…" she shrugged. "I don't have any friends so no one's been to my apartment or anything. I just thought it would be nice to have some company."

Shit. Cameron could see the trap being laid out in front of him and he knew it would be near impossible to side-step it. He wanted nothing more than to be left alone to himself but he couldn't find it in his heart to completely reject her. The offer was nice and he could see that she was being genuine, but as cruel as it sounded he wasn't sure he wanted the privilege of being her only friend. Being the center of someone's attention scared him and threatened his independence.

"It's really nice of you, Imogen but there's a game on and I've got to get my food to the apartment before it spoils and---"

Her smile fell for the first time and she hung her head, her attention focused on the bouquet of flowers lying in her basket. They looked so pitiful and lonely.

Cameron threw his head back and prayed to God that what he was about to do was not going to come back and bite him later on. Gritting his teeth and grasping the shopping cart until his knuckles were white, he braced himself.

"Why don't you come back to my apartment, then? We can make lunch and you can maybe stick around for the game if you want. You're not buying any perishables, are you?"

Imogen didn't have many things in her cart and she shook her head. "Nope, none, actually."

"Okay. The bus stop is right at the end of the street so we won't have to walk. Are you ready?"

She smiled and swung her shopping cart toward the check out line. "Yes, I'm ready."

Cameron motioned for her to proceed in front of him. As he followed her to the check-out counter he mentally ran over the past few minutes in his head, wondering at how he became so masochistic in the last three weeks. It would have been so easy to decline. So, so easy. Yet that stupid conscious of his was getting him into trouble again and he wished that little angel on his shoulder would shut up sometimes and let the devil speak for once.

He vowed that this was the last time. The last time. No more being Mr. Nice Guy, he promised himself. It was exhausting, being a humanitarian of sorts. He didn't understand how so many people did it every day. People with many friends and acquaintances baffled him.

He just hoped Imogen was right about her killer sandwiches, because it seemed as if that was the only good thing that might come of this.

* * * *

His apartment looked cleaner than it did when she was first there. The dishes were washed, the floors swept, and it even looked as if some dusting had been done.

Impressive, Imogen thought, smiling to herself. Cameron came in after her, the sound of shuffling feet and the rustling of plastic bags filling the air around them. He grunted as he lifted his groceries onto the counter. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and pointed at her as he started to take his things from the bags.

"You can set those on the table or… anywhere," he panted. Imogen set her two bags on the table and took out the flowers.

"Do you have a vase or something I can put these in? I don't want them dying."

Cameron raised an eyebrow. "A vase? Is that a real question?" he asked as he loaded the cottage cheese, sour cream, and milk into his open refrigerator. "No, I don't have a vase. This is not Casa de Martha Stewart. I'm a single man, not a homemaker."