Protecting My Hart (Protectors Series Book 1) (42 page)

You see, my tragic – it happened years ago. But it didn’t end there. Nope.

I get to live with my tragic every day for the rest of my life.

I also have the supreme luck of having people in my life who strive for the chance to remind me of my tragic. I’m pretty sure it’s their life goal.

And wouldn’t you know it – those people, they are my parents.

A lot of people think that you are who your parents are…at least to some extent. I mean, I
understand
the logic behind this. You share their DNA. So I guess,
technically
that would be true. But I still call bullshit. There is not one part of me that is like my parents. I know this for a fact, because I work every. fucking. day. to make it true.

Sitting and staring at my phone I recall every word my parents just spoke to me. I make sure to play it in my head over and over again.

You’re acting like trash, Cameron.

Your career is nothing but a joke, young lady.

You’re a disgrace to our name.

It’s absolutely disgusting what you’ve become.

Each word, every hate-filled syllable becomes ingrained in my mind. They fuel me. They push me to become something greater. Something better than I am.

I’m not looking for acceptance from my parents. I’m not delusional enough to believe that’s something I’ll ever obtain. In all honestly, I don’t want it.

But these words ground me. They make me remember where I came from and they keep me from becoming something I never want to be. They also make me successful.

My entire business is based off of my parents.
Beautifully Broken Pottery
is based on the fact that imperfections can create beauty. My pottery is carefully sculpted until every single detail is perfected, and then once it is – I mess it up. On purpose. There is a flaw in every one of my pieces. They are carefully placed and added with great care. Apparently, people love this. Who knew?

My phone rings in my hand and I glance down at the screen to see Emma calling. In spite of everything else swirling in my mind, I smile. My best friend is the shit.

“Sluts-R-Us, this is Majestic. How can I help you?” I answer.

“Yes, I was wondering if I could purchase Cameron for the evening?”

“Cameron is in
very
high demand right now. Her winning personality and stunning good looks are going to cost extra.”

“That’s fine. I’m willing to pay with sexual favors and my best bottle of wine.”

“Sold!” I shout.

Emma bursts into a fit of laughter and I can’t help but join in.

“I’ll swing by your place in about an hour is that’s good with you?”

“Can’t wait.” I say with complete honesty.

“You okay, babe? You sound off.” The girl has the ability to read me – even over the phone. I hate it.

“All good, chica. Long conversation with the parentals earlier. And my new kiln was delivered when I wasn’t home – so I’ve gotta call someone to come move it so I can’t finish any of my projects”

“Okay, so – we’ll discuss the phone call with Satan and his Mistress when I get there. And I can call one of the guys and see if they can move the kiln for you.” Full of solutions, this girl is.

“It’s all good. I’ll call someone tomorrow.”

“Nonsense. See you soon!” She hangs up before I have a chance to argue with her and I roll my eyes at the flashing screen on my phone.

With the chaos of the past few hours, I need some time at my wheel. I change into a pair of yoga capris, a loose-fitting sleeveless top and thrown my hair on top of my head before going downstairs to the studio.

I plug in my iPod, crank the music up as loud as it will go and sit down at my pottery wheel. There is nothing I love more than making pottery. Watching your hands create something from a mound of clay is invigorating. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else for a living.

As Papa Roach sings on and on about losing his mind I let myself go numb. I turn it all off and focus on feeling nothing but the clay moving between my fingers. This is why I love what I do.
This
is exactly what I needed.

I don’t know how long I’m down in my studio, enough to go through several songs on my playlist and have one piece of pottery almost complete. I’m finishing up the vase when I feel something on my shoulder, but I’m too focused on what I’m doing to pay attention so I just shrug it off and keep working.

“Woman” I hear a rough voice say in my ear. Reflex causes me to spasm and my hands crush the vase I was just working on. I whip my head to side and look at the offending person.

Luke. Fucking. Russo.

Seriously?

“What are you doing?!” I seethe at him.

“Kiln?” He phrases the one word like a question. It would be a miracle if the man could string more than five words together. He has a knack for talking as little as possible. I guess when his expressions communicate so well, there is really no need for words.

Like right now. He is standing there – arms crossed over his chest, one eyebrow raised with a look that clearly says “I know you talked to Emma and she said she was going to call one of us to move your stupid kiln. Don’t ask me such stupid questions and get up and let me know where the hell you want this thing.”

See? No need for words. I got all that from his arms and eyebrows.

“Couldn’t knock?”

“Did. Three times.”

“Careful Luke, you’re hitting your word limit.”

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head at me. I wipe my brow with the back on my hand and stand to turn off my music and show him where I wanted the kiln.

“I’m thinking it would work best over here. Maybe over on that wall? Just in this general area. I’ll put it all together once you get it down here. I just can’t lift the box.” I turn to face him and jump when I discover that he is standing right behind me. Like
right
behind me.

“Whatever you want.”

“Well there’s a double entendre if I’ve ever heard one.” I smirk at him, but his face remains impassive. He nods his head and makes his way back upstairs without saying anything else.

Figures.

The man is the most aggravating thing on the entire planet. I swear it. That’s not even an exaggeration. He drives me absolutely bonkers. It’s a shame too, considering he’s also the hottest thing on the entire planet. His light brown hair, shaved close to his head makes his dark brown eyes pop. And his body – for the love of all things holy. His body is cut from stone, of that I’m sure.

I’m about ninety-eight percent positive that I drive Luke as crazy as he drives me. But honestly, that’s not my fault. The man is wound so tight it’s a miracle he can even bend.

It takes him minimal time to bring the box with the kiln parts downstairs.

“Need help?” He gestures towards the box he just deposited on the floor.

“Nope. I’ll work on it tomorrow. Got a hot date with a bottle of Sangria in about 15 minutes. I need to get cleaned up before Emma gets here. Thanks for that. Where’s Rhett?” I ask curiously.

“Why?”

“Well, I’m just wondering why you were here? I mean – I appreciate the help, don’t get me wrong. I was just wondering why Emma called you.”

“I was around.”

“Ah. That explains everything. Thanks for clearing it up, champ.” I pat him on his chest as I walk around him and head for the stairs.

He follows me upstairs to the main living area.

“Thanks again, Luke. I do appreciate it.”

“No problem. Later.” He nods his head at me and walks out of the front door.

I shake my head at his goodbye and hop in the shower. I need a bottle of wine and my best friend. This day has been a mess.