I step out of the car and make my way up the winding rock path, admiring the bright pops of color from the tulips and the myriad of impatiens surrounding the house. When I step onto the porch, the maroon front door opens and Cam appears, the sight of him taking my breath away even more than the house.
His usual casual t-shirt has been replaced by a tailored black collared shirt, the first few buttons undone and the bottom of the shirt untucked. He’s clean shaven, which I haven’t seen since coming back to Rocky Point, just a hint of a five o’clock shadow visible on his chiseled jawline. He leans against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, looking somehow relaxed and like a damn cover model at the same time. It’s a whole new Cam, one I’ve never seen before, not even when we were kids. Cam, the GQ model. And I have to admit, I’m digging it.
Lord, have mercy. I haven’t even stepped inside yet and I’m already swooning.
He takes his dear, sweet time raking his eyes from the thin straps of my yellow sundress that falls a good few inches above my knee, down to the cream-colored ribbon ties of my espadrille wedge heels, and back up again. My cheeks heat under the scrutiny, my heart racing as a thin smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. His gaze lingers for a moment on my hair, which is pulled into a loose chignon at the nape of my neck, then locks onto mine with an intensity that knocks the wind out of me.
“Your house is beautiful,” I say, desperate to fill the silence between us. My mouth has gone completely dry, and I inadvertently wet my lips. His eyes, dark and heavy, dart to my mouth, settling there for a moment as if he’s deciding whether to invite me in or haul me over his shoulder like a damn cave man. I can see the set in his jaw, the flick of his pulse in his neck, and the heat in my cheeks blossoms across my neck, chest, shoulders, until my entire body feels like it’s on fire. I catch sight of a garden hose out of the corner of my eye and figure, at least if I burst into flames, someone will be able to easily put me out.
“Do you want to come in?” Cam asks, stepping aside holding open the door. I nod my head, my brain apparently deciding we’ve lost the ability to speak, and step past him into the foyer.
My scrambled brain is momentarily distracted by how absolutely beautiful the interior of Cam’s house is. The hardwood floors, which look to be original but restored, carry through the entire first floor and give the little house a ton of character. I peek around, each room revealing a beautiful, surprising detail restored from when the house was originally built. In the living room, there’s the wide, brick gas fireplace that’s been carefully rebuilt with a large wooden beam added as a mantle. In the kitchen, a vintage copper vent hood has been cleaned and polished, lending a bit of rustic charm to the otherwise modern space. A small sitting room off the back of the house showcases a large, built-in bookshelf that’s been updated and painted white. Everything, every single little detail, is immaculate and charming. I can’t believe this is Cam’s house.
“Did you do all the renovations?” I ask, certain he must have. He’s a contractor, after all, so he certainly has the skill and the resources. He just nods quietly.
“Every inch,” he says, doing his best to appear humble.
“Wow,” I say, as we return to the kitchen and take a seat at table. Cam pulls down a few wine glasses and uncorks a bottle of red wine, pouring me a generous glass. Without hesitation, I take a large sip of the wine and pray that it helps calm my nerves.
“So, I wanted to cook you dinner,” he says, taking a sip from his glass too. “But it turns out I’m a pretty terrible cook.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I doubt that,” I say, and then realize I don’t actually smell anything cooking. “What are you making?” I ask.
“Well, I had planned on steaks,” he says, casting his eyes to the ground. “But it turns out once they catch fire, they’re pretty unsalvageable.”
“No!”
“Yes. By the time I was done with them, they were a pile of ash. I had to air the house out for at least half an hour before you got here.”
“Oh no,” I giggle, taking another sip of the wine. I can already feel the liquid warmth from the Cabernet going to work, loosening up my otherwise tense nerves. “Well, I’m not picky. We could always just do takeout.”
“I’m glad you say that. I already have the finest lo mein and pork fried rice from China Garden on its way as we speak.”
“As long as you also ordered egg rolls,” I say, polishing off my glass and holding it out for a refill. “Those are my favorite.”
“I know, and don’t worry. I ordered some of those, too,” he says, topping both of our glasses off.
If I don’t slow down on the wine, I’ll be useless here in a few minutes. But at least for now, the magic properties of a good, full-bodied red wine are doing their job and helping me to continue to form sentences instead of clamming up and implode, so I guess I’ll have to pick my poison.
“How’s your mom?” I blurt out, in a pretty crappy attempt to make conversation. Right, because that’s not an awkward question at all. God, Lizzie. Get it together.
“She’s good,” he says, seemingly unaffected by the rapid change in subject. “She’s been keeping herself busy with her little dog, Bella. I swear, she treats that thing better than she ever treated Grayson and I.”
I perk up at the mention of Grayson’s name. “How is he doing?”
“Well, he’s moved on from breaking tourists’ hearts in Rocky Point to breaking the public’s heart in Hollywood. He landed a part on While the Globe Spins.”
My jaw practically hits the floor. “No way! I used to watch that show all the time. Until they brought on that newer actress. The young one, long black hair, leggy. What’s her name?”
“Ariana Lopez,” Cam says.
“Yes! That’s it. She’s terrible,” I say.
“Well, Grayson is apparently dating her. Although, he says it’s not serious.”
“Stop it, you’re kidding!” I say, practically jumping out of my seat. “He’s practically famous, then!”
“Yeah, don’t let him hear you say that. It’ll go straight to his big head, and we definitely don’t need that.”
A FEW HOURS LATER, we’ve killed the wine and our take-out Chinese food, and are laughing over the memory of me going overboard on Cam’s boat.
“I was pretty sure you were going to get eaten by a shark or something, and then Trisha would murder me for being reckless and taking you out there,” he says, draining the last few sips of wine from his glass.
“Oh, so it’s Trisha’s wrath you’re worried about, not mine?”
“Have you seen her get mad?” he asks. “I’d rather get eaten by the shark myself. She may be bubbly, but she’s got a temper. I don’t know how Eddie does it.”
“Fair point,” I say, a sudden thought coming to me. “You know, I do have a question, though.”
“What’s that?”
“Why Sid’s Sea Maiden?”
Cam laughs at the mention of his boat’s unusual name, nodding his head.
“The boat’s previous owner, Sid Sutton, named it that. I haven’t got the balls to change it,” he explains. I cock my head to the side, not sure what he means by that.
“Can’t you just... pick a new name?” I ask, and his face grows serious.
“Oh no,” he says, leaning both his elbows on the table. “Naming a boat is very serious business. Renaming a boat? Even more serious.”
“Come on,” I say, polishing off my glass too. “How serious could it be?”
“First, you have to remove every single item or instance of the original name from the boat and destroy them. I mean everything, paperwork, knick-knacks, any captain’s logs, maintenance records, it’s all got to go,” he says.
“Okay, I mean, that doesn’t seem that bad...” I say, but he holds up a hand.
“Once you’ve destroyed all evidence of the former name, you have to appease the Gods of the sea. Poseidon, or Neptune, or whatever. You have to recite a call to the Gods and ask t
hem to keep the boat safe from harm. Then you have to pour a whole bottle of Champagne into the water, from East to West.”
“You’re kidding,” I say, but he keeps going.
“After that, you have to address all four winds. Individually. North, South, East, and West. And you have to ask them for good winds and fair weather.”
“Let me guess,” I say. “You have to pour out Champagne for each of them, too?”
“You got it,” he says. After you address each wind individually, you pour out some champagne in that specific direction.”
“That’s very involved.”
“Exactly,” Cam says. “And I don’t feel like messing with fate, so, Sid’s Sea Maiden it is.”
“If you were going to rename it though, do you know what you would change it to?” I ask.
Cam looks toward the ceiling, deep in thought. “I guess I never really thought about it,” he says.
“I mean, you could go cliché,” I say. “Like The Odyssey or The Black Pearl. Or punny, like Seas the Day.”
“I think I’d want something more original than that,” he says. “Something more... romantic? That’s why Sid’s Sea Maiden is such a good name. It evokes a sense of adventure, and long-lost love. It’s classic.”
“I think that wine is going to your head,” I tell him.
“Maybe,” he concedes. “Maybe one day, I’ll be inspired enough by someone to change the boat’s name.”
He looks at me then, his eyes dark and serious, and I swallow hard, suddenly feeling very sober. I push out my chair and stand up, walking my wine glass over to the sink. It’s late, and since I slacked off today, I’ll have to work twice as fast tomorrow. I’ll need to get some sleep if I have any hopes of making it through Gran’s boxes anytime soon.
“Well, I should be...”
I turn around, and Cam is up and in front of me, his body mere inches from mine. I let out a small gasp at the closeness, the intoxicating smell of his cologne or aftershave enveloping me, making me want to move in just a little bit closer.
“Cam,” I say, exhaling a shaky breath. “I don’t... I can’t...”
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“I’m just... scared. I’m scared of how you make me feel. I’m scared of how easy it is to be with you.”
“I’m scared too, Lizzie,” Cam breathes. “I never thought I’d get to see you again, let alone spend as much time with you as I have these last few weeks. It’s like my life has been on hold this whole time, just... waiting for something. Waiting for you.”
I raise my eyes to meet his, biting back the tears suddenly threatening to spill over. The truth is, I feel that way, too. Like I’ve just been in a holding pattern, circling, waiting for the moment when life would start again. I don’t know when exactly it happened, but coming back to Rocky Point, to Cam, it’s like the fog has lifted and I’ve finally been given the all-clear to be myself again.
He looks down at my arm, where the strap of my dress has fallen off my shoulder, and takes the thin yellow fabric in between his thumb and his finger, rolling it around for a moment before dropping it back where he found it. Rather than remove his hand, though, he trails a finger up my arm and onto my shoulder, letting it sit where the strap should be for just a moment before tracing a line across my collarbone, the feeling of his rough skin sending shivers of desire over every inch of my body. His hand comes to my heart, and he rests his palm there, letting his hand rise and fall with the suddenly ragged heaves of my breathing. He glances at me, his gaze hot and full of wanting, and in a flash the air between us is electrified. Then, with his other hand, he tips my chin up toward him, his mouth claiming mine in one swift, sudden movement.
For a moment I stiffen, letting out a squeal of surprise, before melting into his embrace and his kiss. I let him in, parting my lips and allowing him to explore and taste and devour every inch of my mouth. My hands twist in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him in closer, feeling more terrified and more free than I have since leaving Rocky Point so long ago. Back then, I was running away. Now, it feels like I’m coming home.
Releasing my mouth, Cam rests his forehead against mine, giving us both a moment to catch our breath. His hand trails down my arm, to my waist, pulling me flush against him.
“I want this so bad, Lizzie. I want you so bad. More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”
Moving from my waist, his hand trails down my thigh, slipping under the hem of my dress until it meets bare skin again. I gasp, both startled at his touch and desperately wanting more as he gently trails his hand up my thigh, little by little, planting kisses along my jaw until he reaches my ear and nips at my earlobe.
“What do you want, Lizzie?” he asks, his breath on my neck sending a wave of tingles across the delicate skin. I shiver, turning my head up toward him until his lips are on mine again. He gives me another deep, passionate kiss, before pulling away again.
“Cam,” I breathe, my voice throaty and urgent and I reach for him again, but he holds me in place.
“I need to know what you want, Lizzie. I need you to tell me,” he says, his tone gentle but firm. His eyes search mine, full of wanting and desire despite his restraint. I swallow hard, my hand findings its way to his face, cupping his cheek in my palm.
“I want this, Cam. I want you.”
Without wasting another moment, his lips find mine again, kissing me even more hungrily than before. My arms weave around his neck, my fingers threading through his hair, my body needing to be closer to his, as close as possible. His hand continues its path up my thigh, eliciting a gasp as his thumb brushes gently across the thin fabric of my underwear, my entire body quivering under his touch. He teases me with his thumb, his mouth never leaving mine, until I am shaking and breathless in his arms, the whole world slipping away around us. He moves his hand from my thigh, despite my small moan of protest, and grinds into me, his arousal pressing against me even through his jeans.
“Christ, Lizzie,” he breathes, his chest heaving, but I’m done with going slow. I’m done thinking, deciding. My fear is gone, replaced with the need to be with Cam, to remember what it feels like to touch him and taste him and be with him again. I drop my hands to the waistband of his jeans, my fingers clumsily fumbling with the button until it finally pops free. Before I can slip my hand underneath his waistband, though, he grabs my wrists and holds them still.
“Please, Cam,” I say, but he shakes his head.
“Not here,” he growls, gently pulling me by the wrist and leading me toward the stairs. I follow, the air around us growing more and more electrified as he leads me down the hallway, and into the bedroom.
Chapter Sixteen
Elizabeth
THE FEELING OF A LARGE, strong arm pulling me in closer stirs me awake, my brain taking a second to catch up and remember where I am. I stay as still as possible, my legs tangled between Cam’s and the sheets, my back pressed snugly against the warm, firm expanse of chest. I take a moment and listen to the gentle sound of his breathing, feeling the slight rise and fall of his chest, memories of the night before flooding me. Memories of Cam’s lips on mine, of his hands on my body, of the way all those years of heartache, and anger, and needing each other clashed in an unforgettable night of passion.
Reaching for my phone on the nightstand, I pause when I feel Cam stirring beside me. I don’t want to wake him, but I can see light streaming in through the tall, floor-to-ceiling window, and we went to sleep so late, I have no idea what time it is. When he settles back into that soft, snoring rhythm again, I quickly grab my phone and check the time.
I groan internally, knowing I need to get back to Gran’s and get back to work, but not wanting to move from the comfy, warm cocoon of Cam’s embrace. Sighing, I remove Cam’s arm from around my waist and climb out of bed, eliciting a grunt of protest from Cam, whose eyes flutter open. He watches with sleepy, sexy eyes as I slip on my clothes from the night before, fixing my messy, just-rolled-out-of-bed hair into a k
not at the top of my head.
“I think you should definitely come back to bed,” Cam mumbles, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. I chuckle, sitting on the edge of the bed to slip on my shoes.
“As nice as that sounds, I have a lot to get done today. I’m way behind.”
“I’ll come help,” he says. “I can even bring coffee, in case you need a bribe of some kind.”
“Don’t you have, like, a company to run?” I ask, standing up and putting my hands on my hips. He gives me a lazy smile, and my heart skips a beat.
“Hank can hold down the fort for a little while.”
“Well, alright then.”
I lean down and give him a kiss on the cheek, and his hand cups my chin, holding me still while his lips find mine. I sigh into him, not wanting to go, but knowing if I don’t bite the bullet and go, I’ll be another day behind in my to-do list.
“Skinny Vanilla Latte, please,” I say, earning an eye roll from Cam. “Extra espresso.”
“You got it.”
CAM FINDS ME IN MY childhood bedroom about an hour later, two big coffee cups in his hand, his hair still slightly damp from a shower.
“The barista at Java Point looked terrified when I asked for extra espresso. Apparently, there’s already two shots in this size,” he says, handing over the coffee and watching with amusement as I take a long drag from it. I close my eyes and smile, savoring the warmth of the beverage as the caffeine starts to work its magic.
“Just give me a few minutes to let that enter my bloodstream, and I’ll be human again in no time.”
“Okay, coffee fiend. I think we might need to stage an intervention.”
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