“You’re gonna have to do better than that weak little right hook of yours,” I inform her with a wink, blatantly lying right to her face.
That shit hurt. And I’ve been punched in the face by grown men twice my size before.
But watching her chest rise and fall with annoyance is the most fun I’ve had in years. Much better than picturing her eyes filled with tears or thinking about all the ways I’ve let her down.
“Oh, screw you,” she mutters. “I can’t believe I came out here to apologize and ask you to come back to camp.”
“There’s no need for you to apologize, or ask me to come back. I was coming back whether you wanted me to or not. Also, I packed a bag. Since we’re husband and wife, I’ll be shacking up with you going forward.”
“Oh, really? And you didn’t bother to think I might want to have a say in this decision?”
“You don’t get to have a say in this decision. You need me, end of story.”
“I don’t need you, the camp needs you, there’s a difference. And I definitely don’t need you shacking up with me,” she argues.
“No, there isn’t a difference. You and the camp are a package deal, I’m coming back, and I’m staying with you in the guest house so Stratford sees nothing but a happy little couple, coming out of their happy little home together first thing in the morning. I’m not waking up at the ass crack of dawn to drive all the way over there before he wakes up every damn morning.”
“I changed my mind. You’re too annoying and you can’t even follow simple instructions like PUTTING ON A GODDAMN SHIRT!” she shouts, throwing her hands up in the air and stalking around me as she heads to the door.
Jesus, this woman is infuriating. And she makes my dick hard. Which is also infuriating.
“Sorry, sweetheart. You can’t change your mind now.”
I chuckle under my breath when she pulls the door open so hard it bounces off the wall behind it and almost comes back to smack her in the ass.
“Too bad!” she shouts over her shoulder as she stomps down the front steps.
I move to the doorway and watch her walk over to the driveway, where she parked her car.
“So I’ll meet you in about fifteen minutes? I’ll see if I can find a shirt by then,” I yell over to her.
I can see her talking to herself as she gets in the car and slams the door closed, and I keep right on smiling to myself as she starts up the car and peels out of the driveway. I can only imagine all the names she’s currently calling me as she drives back to the plantation.
Yep, getting under Cameron’s skin is much better than the alternative. I’d much rather annoy her than have her hate me. I know it’s going to take a hell of a lot of work for her to forgive me and want to be my friend again, but at least it’s a step in the right direction. At least she didn’t treat me any differently now that Jason gave her some of my truths.
I can handle a Cameron who’s annoyed with me. I’m no longer the angry punk kid Cameron always worried about and felt like she needed to fix. It’s my turn to fix things, and she’s just going to have to learn how to deal with it.
Chapter 17
Cameron
You’re gonna have to do better than that weak little right hook of yours,” I mumble, mimicking Everett’s stupid low, raspy voice as I open drawers in my desk and slam them closed when I don’t find what I’m looking for.
“I’ll show you a weak right hook when I punch you in your stupid, smug neck, attached to your stupid shirtless body,” I complain to myself, slamming yet another desk drawer closed in frustration.
Holy hell, that shirtless body…
I went over to Everett’s house this morning with every intention of apologizing to him for not being more understanding or sympathetic toward him, and I forgot everything I wanted to say as soon as he opened the door. His hair was still damp from the shower and droplets of water that he must have missed when he dried off were still pebbled on his chest. Sweet Lord, that chest…I had seen Everett without a shirt plenty of times over our twenty-plus years of friendship since we spent a lot of time in the summer swimming in the lake at the camp. He was always good looking, even as a teenager, playing sports to keep himself in shape, and working out whenever he could.
Praise be to Doctors Without Borders and whatever the hell they did to him. Who would’ve thought a doctor could look that good? That man is more ripped than anything my fantasies have ever conjured about him. I could wash my laundry on his abs and use the indents in his narrow waist to hold my cup of afternoon tea.
My sleepless night worrying about him and how hurt he must have been by the things I said was quickly forgotten when he smirked at me and took way too much joy in my discomfort at being that close to him when he was half naked. I couldn’t even look at him. All I could do was picture what he looked like fully naked. Instead of apologizing and asking him to tell me the full story of what happened when he came home, something I needed to hear and dreaded hearing both at the same time, he riled me up and pissed me off.
“Who the hell does he think he is? Cocky, stupid asshole…”
“I hope you’re not talking about me.”
I jump when I hear a voice in the doorway of the office, trying not to groan when I see Grady standing there, leaning against the doorjamb with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, smiling at me.
Grady Stevens, the guy I lost my virginity to the summer I graduated high school, who I broke up with a few months later when he started talking about marriage and moving in together after college and I realized I was the biggest bitch in the world for making him think we’d ever have a future together. I only went out with him back then to make Everett jealous. I only gave him my virginity because I was hurt and pissed that it didn’t work. He was a good guy. A sweet guy. But he wasn’t the man of my dreams.
I ran into Grady again right after Aiden died. I was sad and vulnerable and I just wanted to feel something other than numb and angry all the time and I found myself right back where I started with him. Using him just to stop feeling so sad.
Over the last couple of months, Grady has been my on-again/off-again…I don’t even know what he is. According to Amelia, he’s my “special friend.” Is he just a casual date when I have an event to attend and need a plus one? Random hook-up every once in a while when I’m feeling particularly lonely? I definitely wouldn’t call him a friend, even though he’s one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met and I’m sure I could easily turn whatever this is into something more if I had the ability to knock down the walls I’ve built and let him in. But that’s never going to happen. I made sure this time that he knew the score before I ever agreed to go out with him or let him into my bed. That he understood I’d closed myself off from love, and what he got from me every so often would be all he’d ever get from me. He was a kind, understanding man who never pressured me for anything more. He was perfectly fine letting me drive the bus and letting me always be the one who reached out to him instead of the other way around. He had his own life away from me running his family’s championship horse racing farm and dating other women since we’ve never been exclusive, so it’s not like he was sitting around, pining away for me or anything. What we had worked.
Until now, when I completely forgot that I sent him a text and invited him out to the camp today so I could release some tension after all my sleepless nights and worry. I sent him a text before Everett showed back up into my life, and after everything that happened yesterday, I forgot to cancel.
“I’m so sorry, Grady. Now isn’t really a good time,” I tell him as I stand up behind the desk.
Grady pushes off the doorjamb and moves into the room. I watch him saunter toward me and I wonder why he’s never given me butterflies. He was good looking as a teenager, and has grown into a very handsome man. His blond hair is short and spiky on top with the sides and back shaved in a tapered fashion. He’s a few inches taller than my five foot seven frame, and his body is full of lean muscle, which he
keeps in shape by paying a ridiculous amount of money to one of those meat market gyms he goes to every single morning.
I think again about Everett with his shirt off, with his ripped body, and how I have to crane my neck to look up at him, and the butterflies start swarming around in my stomach, pissing me off.
Leaning his hip against the edge of my desk, Grady wraps his hands around my upper arms and pulls me closer to him. He smells like soap, a smell I used to enjoy because it was clean and fresh, but now the smell is foreign and all I crave is Everett’s woodsy, manly smell.
“I saw Amelia outside when I pulled in. She told me something about your best friend coming home and how you two are pretending to be married. What in the hell is going on?”
He smiles at me, showing me his question isn’t one filled with anger, but amused confusion, proving yet again what a good man he is. Any other guy would be losing his shit right now, regardless of whether or not our relationship was serious.
“It’s a long, very annoying story that I don’t want to bore you with that involves needing funds for the camp as soon as possible and not really having any other option at the time. I’m really sorry that I need to cancel today. I’ve just…got a lot on my plate right now,” I explain as he rubs his hands up and down the sides of my arms.
We’ve never really been touchy-feely together. We don’t snuggle, we don’t hold hands, we don’t kiss in public, all of our physical contact is reserved for the bedroom, and his attempt at soothing me makes me a little uncomfortable.
I take a step back from him until his hands drop down to his sides.
“I don’t understand why you didn’t just call me. I have to say, I don’t really like the idea of you doing something like this with another guy, even if you are pretending. You know I would have gladly helped you out. It would have been fun to play house,” he tells me softly, reaching out and brushing my bangs out of my eyes.
Okay, now it’s just getting weird. Is he trying to mark his territory or something? Does he feel threatened by a man he doesn’t even know, I’ve never even mentioned, and met only once twelve years ago? We aren’t this couple. We aren’t these people, getting jealous of others.
“Look, Grady—”
“It’s fine,” he cuts me off. “Although I thought that guy was a real dick the one time I met him right after graduation. Since you’ve never mentioned him all this time, I thought he was out of your life, and then to find out he’s here and pretending to be your husband…it was just a little shocking. We’ll be fine.”
His words confuse me even more and now I’m the one standing here in shock, unable to move or say anything in reply when he leans in and kisses the side of my cheek. Of course I’ve never mentioned Everett to Grady. I don’t talk about Everett with anyone really, and especially not with him. We don’t talk about our lives when we’re together. We don’t talk at all when we’re together.
“I’ll give you a call later in the week when things have calmed down,” he tells me.
I can do nothing but stand here behind my desk and watch him go as he gives me a wave over his shoulder and disappears around the corner.
I’ve always liked Grady because he was easygoing, no fuss, no muss, and didn’t care what I did when I was away from him. Having him show up here and act completely different throws me for a loop. I know if Everett hadn’t shown up and tipped my world upside down, things would have gone just like they always have with Grady. He wouldn’t have felt the need to mark his territory, and he wouldn’t have said something so utterly ridiculous about us playing house together, which made me uncomfortable and unlikely ever to call him again. We would have locked ourselves in my office and partaken in thirty minutes of stress relief.
Now I’m full of tension and annoyance, and it’s not even nine in the morning.
I resume what I was doing before Grady interrupted, turning away from the door. I go back to opening and closing drawers in the metal filing cabinet behind my desk, cursing under my breath in annoyance.
“Am I interrupting? Did that desk do something to tick you off?”
I slam another drawer closed, looking back over my shoulder at Amelia.
“I’m fine. Everything is fine. F. I. N. E. Fine,” I mutter, yanking open another drawer and cursing at the top of my lungs when I still can’t find what I need.
“I’m sensing a little hostility and I’m pretty sure you’re anything but fine.”
When she comes around the desk and stands behind me, I wordlessly reach back over my shoulder and hand her the two letters I’ve been holding on to since I opened them, and the reason for my desk drawer anger. Sort of.
“I hate you. You will pay,” Amelia says, reading the two letters and the short, simple threat that each one had printed on it. “Creepy, but not unusual and definitely not the reason you’re beating the shit out of your desk.”
She pushes me out of the way and leans down, calmly sliding open the bottom drawer and pulling out the file folder where I keep all the previous letters I’ve received, standing up and handing it to me with a smile.
“I looked in that drawer three times. Also, I hate you,” I tell her, snatching the file and the letters out of her hands, shoving them inside and putting everything back in the drawer, kicking it closed with my foot just to make myself feel better.
“Does your cheerful personality this morning have anything to do with the booty call that just drove away? Sex shouldn’t piss you off. Did he do it wrong? He sure wasn’t here very long for it to have been any good. Or does this have to do with the hot piece of ass that just pulled up outside?” Amelia asks as I flop down onto my chair and she perches her hip on the edge of the desk next to me.
My traitorous heart starts to beat faster and butterflies swarm around my stomach as I glance out the window and see Jason’s truck in the drive. Everett came back, even after I gave him hell and stomped away from him like a two-year-old throwing a temper tantrum.
Why couldn’t I have gotten this excited when Grady walked into the room?
I push Grady from my mind, only having enough energy at this point to concentrate on one problem at a time.
“Is he actually wearing a shirt this time?” I snap.
Amelia’s eyes widen and she whistles softly, reaching down to pat the top of my thigh.
“Yes, the man is fully clothed; you can retract your claws. But now I’m gonna need more details. I really feel like seeing Everett without his shirt on would have put you in a much better mood. I don’t care if he is an asshole and we don’t like him; that man is hot. Wait. We don’t like him, right? That hasn’t changed?”
Leaning forward, I rest my arms on the desk and smack my head down on top of them with a groan.
“What am I going to do, Amelia? I can’t go out there and pretend like we’re married. This is the dumbest idea in the world. I can’t even handle standing in his hallway and seeing him with his shirt off. I will spontaneously combust if he puts his hands on me today. And on top of all that, I don’t know whether I want to cry or scream whenever I’m around him. He makes me feel so damn confused.”
Amelia’s hand comes under my chin and she lifts my face up from my arms.
“When you saw him yesterday, what was your first thought? Don’t think about what happened after. Don’t think about how you’re feeling right now. Think about what you felt when you first turned around and saw him standing there,” she tells me softly.
“That I was just happy he was here. That he was close enough for me to touch and reassure myself he was real and he was okay,” I whisper.
She smiles at me and brushes my hair out of my eyes.
“Then stop worrying about everything else and just stick to that for now. I know you guys have a lot to talk about, and he has a lot of apologizing to do and explanations to give, but just hold on to that feeling. That he’s here, and he’s alive and he’s okay. And he is determined to not let you down again.”
I let out a huge sigh and push away
from the top of the desk, leaning against the back of my chair to look up at my friend.
“How did you get so wise?” I ask.
“I wasn’t always this awesome, but I have a pretty amazing friend who gave me some great advice over the years.”
We share a smile and I thank God, not for the first time, that this woman walked into my life when she did.
“Enough about my shit. How are you? How’s Brandon?” I ask, inquiring about her son, whom I haven’t seen around camp in a few weeks.
When Jason brought up Amelia’s husband last night to give me some sort of comparison to what Everett was like when he got home from deployment, it made me realize I’d been so wrapped up in trying to find money for the camp, and then distracted by Everett coming back, that I hadn’t checked in with her lately.
“Brandon is good. He’s been wanting to spend more time with Rob’s parents lately. Since he doesn’t get to see his father, I guess it’s the next best thing.”
It’s my turn to reach out and give her a comforting pat on the leg.
“And before you even ask, I’m fine. And not your kind of fine. I’m actually really fine,” she tells me with a laugh. “Rob has surprisingly stuck it out with rehab this time and he seems to be doing really good. He’s not happy I won’t take Brandon to see him, but he understands. Eight is just too young to have to explain to him what that place is and why Daddy has to stay there. Telling him his dad is out of town for work is just easier right now, and Rob calls Brandon almost every day, which makes things a little better.”
“Wow, I can’t believe he actually stayed in rehab for more than a few days,” I tell her.
“I know, no one is more shocked than me. As scary as it was to draw up those divorce papers, and then see what it did to him after he got them, I know I made the right decision. I think it might have scared him straight. Or at least scared him enough to know he couldn’t keep going on the way he was.”