Page 61 of Love Unscripted
She considered. Then smiled—gentle, unreadable.
“I don’t see any reason why not.”
Chapter 11
Camille stepped into the church and immediately zeroed in on Aaron. He was deep in conversation with the pastor. She’d dressed a little more casually this time, partly to match the culture of the church and partly to avoid having to worry about long dresses if Madison wanted to play. She’d chosen a fuchsia, close-fitting top paired with black, wide-legged pants. Tinted pink sunglasses shielded her eyes.
She waved to Aaron, then slid into the pew where he’d sat the week before, assuming—perhaps boldly—that it washis pew. Madison’s toys were tucked beside a well-worn Bible, which only reinforced the impression. A couple of congregants approached to welcome Camille back. She appreciated the warmth of the gesture; the church really was remarkably friendly.
While one of the women was still chatting, Aaron slipped into the seat beside her.
“Hey there,” he said, smiling.
“Hey yourself.”
He glanced politely at the woman, Carrie, as she finished speaking. Moments later, she scurried off, leaving them alone.
Camille turned toward him. Her heart gave a light, traitorous beat—not just because of his closeness, but because of how good he looked. Jeans. A T-shirt. And because of how good he smelled—something manly and spicy—it made her want to lean in and breathe him in at the line of his jaw.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asked.
She tilted her head. “Why do you ask?”
“The shades,” he said. “You look like a rock star the morning after a concert.”
She chuckled and removed them. “I hope that’s the end of your rock-star analogies. Especially as they relate to me.”
He smirked. “We’ll see.”
They drifted into a conversation about food, of all things. She took a sip of her latte, and he asked if that was breakfast. She admitted that it was.
“So you don’t eat breakfast?” he asked.
“I eat breakfast like a pauper and lunch like a queen.”
That made him laugh. He mentioned noticing the special meals delivered to her trailer and admitted he’d been curious about what she ordered. Her choices prompted him to comment that she seemed like a true foodie—liable to follow good food wherever it led.
She asked about his favorite meals.
“Italian,” he said without hesitation. Then, almost casually, “So—you’re half Italian, I hear?”
She nodded, lifting her cup again. “On my father’s side.”
“Where was his family from?”
“Naples.”
He stared at her. “You’re kidding.”
“No. Why?”
“My grandfather is from there. We went often when I was a kid.”
Before Camille could respond, Madison came bouncing toward them. She wore a fuchsia-and-black plaid dress with black leggings and was delighted to discover she and Camille were wearing the same colors. Camille couldn’t help thinking it was a remarkable coincidence.
The service itself was wonderful. Camille listened intently, riveted by the pastor’s teaching on Jesus’ divinity. Once again, she found herself struck by how engaged Aaron was—how fully present.
After church, they gathered at Aaron’s house as usual. This time, though, something was different. Aaron spent more time with Camille than with the other guys. He and Madison sat withher while he regaled her with stories from his college football days. Camille was genuinely intrigued.
