by Lindsey Hart
“Don’t drink much when you’ve got a whole village to save?” Dale continued to taunt him. “What’s it like down there at the end of the world anyway? I can’t imagine it would be much fun. All the women probably have mustaches and unibrows.” Dale frowned. “But you never really were into women, were you? Maybe you like the men?”
Frank cleared his throat loudly. “I think that’s just about enough, given that Cam is dating my daughter. You can save your taunts for another time, please Dale.”
Jason also elbowed his friend in the ribs. Hard. “Shut up, man,” he hissed.
Cam settled back in the loveseat, willing the room to stop spinning. He wanted to get up and leave but he seemed to be glued to the spot.
Lana and her mother had gone to bed hours ago. He was pretty sure they were both asleep. It was possible that he could sneak into the room and slide into bed and she wouldn’t even know he was there.
But I’ll know she’s there. He knew he’d burn and toss and turn and lay awake all night. Lana’s goddess body, long hair, taunting curves and tempting silken skin couldn’t be more than a few inches from him and not create the worst havoc of his life. No amount of alcohol-induced stupor could save him from the hell that this vacation had suddenly turned into.
Cam struggled to get out of the loveseat. He tried to move with some semblance of grace and dignity, given that Dale’s heated, asshole glare was still burning a hole through him.
He managed to hoist himself off the loveseat and stand, all in one ungainly motion. He nearly swayed and put a hand out to steady himself.
“You alright, son?”
“Yeah,” Cam mumbled. He tried to flash Frank a thumbs up but he wasn’t sure he’d picked the right finger.
He turned and exited the living room. His only saving grace was the fact that he’d spent a whole ton of his childhood in the house and knew his way around. He walked, half upright, half bent over, gripping the wall, down the long hall and finally came to the stairs that would take him up to the bedroom where Lana slept.
His insides cramped painfully, and his heart pounded wildly. His pulse accelerated violently. The world spun, tilting on its end, in a way that had nothing to do with the whiskey.
He turned his face up to the mountain of stairs. There were at least ten, straight up and then a curve and five or six more.
How the hell am I supposed to make it up those?
Cam nearly groaned. At least there was a railing he could grip. He placed his foot on the first tread, slowly starting the mountainous climb to the top, where certain doom, in the form of one incredible, beautiful, oblivious woman lay sleeping.
CHAPTER 8
Lana
A loud bang pulled Lana from the dark recess of sleep. She glanced around the darkened room, blinking hard to clear her burning eyes.
The bedside clock that her mother still insisted on glowed red. Those mean digits announced it was just past three in the morning. She whirled, remembering that she wasn’t supposed to be alone in bed. As she suspected, the other side of the too small double was still empty.
Lana uttered a curse as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. It took her a second to slow the rush of blood to her head so that she could stand. She knew the whole boys will be boys thing but three in the morning was well past time that everyone was in bed.
She stalked to the door barked her shin on the edge of the bed frame and yelped in pain. Not wanting to wake whoever might actually be sleeping, Lana slapped a hand over her mouth. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes.
It was strange, pulling open the door, the feeling of responsibility welling in her chest. She needed to know if Cam was passed out on the couch or if he was coming to bed. He was supposed to be her boyfriend after all.
Another loud bang came from the stairwell and Lana hurried down the hall and peered over the railing.
“For goodness sakes,” she huffed under her breath when she realized the source of the banging was Cam.
He was trying to stand up to make his way up the stairs and failing. The bang part was caused by massive fumbling, clutching at the wall on one side, the railing at the other and missing the next stair.
Lana hurried down the five steps to where Cam was sitting, a dazed, dizzy look thick in those rich, deep brown eyes.
“God, you’re pissed drunk,” she hissed in his ear.
“Yeah, well, your dad kept pouring,” Cam slurred. “He has a heavy hand.”
“And I suppose it’s beyond you, a grown man, to say no thank you.”
“Everyone else was accepting them. I didn’t want to be left out,” he slurred sardonically. He flashed her an annoyed look that told her just what he thought about her chastising and mothering when it was her damn fault he was there in the first place.
Lana sighed. She leaned against the step, gripped Cam’s hand and arm in both of hers and somehow managed to pull him upright when he tried to stand. He swayed, but she made sure he found the railing to support himself.
“Just get into the room before mom wakes up and sees this,” she hissed in his ear.
“I wouldn’t have had to get so drunk,” Cam shot back, “If I didn’t have to endure another night of hell.”
“Hell?”
“Hell.”
She shook her head; sure she’d heard him right this time. Mercifully they reached the top of the steps, both breathing hard with the effort. They stumbled down the hall together. It wasn’t until they were tucked in the room that used to be hers that she finally processed what it was Cam had really meant.
Hell. Sharing a bed with her. Was he as tortured as she was then? Had he lain awake all night, eaten up with confused, conflicted desire when she thought he was sleeping?
An odd feeling cramped her stomach and those same annoying butterflies that had tortured her the night before were back. She shivered violently though it was overly warm in the house. She remembered that this room always heated up like a sauna in the middle of the night for some reason.
Maybe this is more real than either of us know. Or will admit.
Lana leaned up hard against the door. Her hand was still on the knob. She whirled, intent on meeting Cam’s eyes and asking him just what he had meant.
His hand gripped the tall finial on the footboard to keep from falling over. He swayed back and forth, and she thought for a second he was going to collapse again, but he stayed upright. He made his way over to his side of the bed. He didn’t move to pull back the covers. He hesitated, his breathing growing more rapid.
“Cam?” Lana took a step forward. “Are you alright?”
He shook his head, just once, quickly, before he bent at the waist and heaved up half a bottle of scotch whiskey onto the bedspread. He put out a hand to support himself as he took long pulls of air. Lana stayed frozen right where she was, completely shocked.
She sure as hell hadn’t seen that one coming.
“Okay… ew,” she mumbled under her breath. She closed her eyes, shored up her resolve and closed the distance between them.
She placed her hand gently on Cam’s back. He was still breathing hard, beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, over his nose and down that strong jawline which always seemed to bear the perpetual shadow of a beard.
“God, Cam, the bathroom is down the hallway.”
“I know,” he mumbled. He swiped his hand over his face before he was able to straighten. He looked no more stable on his feet than he had before ejecting up half a bottle of her father’s spirits.
“Do you… are you okay? Do you want me to take you there?”
If it was possible, he actually blushed. It was hard to tell, given his already dark complexion and the deep tan, but she was sure his cheeks turned a faint pink.
“No. God, I’m sorry. I- I don’t even know what I’m doing here, Lana.”
She knew what he meant. She felt as lost as he did. She’d gone to bed, thankfully alone and was able to fall asleep. He’d stayed up and drowned out whatever tor
ture he might feel.
Or maybe he just felt like having a damn drink. What did she know. He might not feel anything at all. Maybe he found sleeping in the same bed repulsive. Maybe he needed a drink or two to stomach her nearness.
The thought wasn’t a pleasant one and before Lana could dwell on it, she forced herself forward. She deftly bundled up the comforter and sheets as she stripped the bed. She wasn’t a fan of puke, but she’d done her fair share of holding her friend’s hair back in dingy bar bathrooms over the years. It was easily cleaned up at least and the mattress had a protector on it that wasn’t even wet.
“Okay, I’ll be right back,” she mumbled, her own face suddenly on fire.
Cam stood beside the bed, watching her every movement. She turned and fled from the room.
The laundry was down in the basement. Mold issues aside, Lana charged down there, threw her bundle of laundry in the washer, put in twice the amount of soap she should have and set it to a real beating of a wash, the kind you give soiled football or soccer uniforms.
She hurried back upstairs, past the living room where she could still hear the voices of her brother and Dale and up the stairs. The hallway closet was stocked full of fresh linens, according to size. Her mother was the most organized person Lana knew. She was thankful, at that moment, that it was easy to choose new sheets, pillow cases and a comforter.
Damn Dale. This is all his fault.
She couldn’t quite make herself believe that as she quietly entered the spare room and shut the door tight again behind her. She was the one to blame and she knew it. She never should have asked Cam to come home with her. Never should have started the whole stupid charade just for a shot at a night with a man she now couldn’t ever imagine even kissing let alone sleeping with. Leave it up to her to fuck up a two-and-a-half-decade long friendship.
Cam was a nice guy. Far too nice. Kind. Sweet. He’d always been there for her and he didn’t deserve this.
There goes fifteen years of nothing. If only I’d seen through it sooner, seen what everyone else already knew.
Cam was sitting beside the bed, his shoulders slumped, head in hands.
“I should have brought you a bucket or something,” she whispered. She set about making the bed. At least it wasn’t a difficult job. She was fully awake anyway.
“I’m good,” Cam mumbled without raising his head.
“Want to get into bed then?”
“I think I puked on myself too.”
Lana closed her eyes. She breathed a deep sigh. “Okay. It’s okay. I’ll help you undress if you can’t do it by yourself.”
“Just leave me here to die. I’ll do it quietly and peacefully I promise.”
Her lips quirked up in a smile and she actually giggled. “Jesus, Cam. We’ve been friends since kindergarten. That’s twenty-five years. Can you even believe that? I’ve seen you in your underwear more than once before.”
“I’m so humiliated. I just barfed on your bed.”
“Technically it’s my parent’s bed and it’s no worse for wear.”
“That’s even worse.”
“Sheets and blankets wash well.”
“I’m still humiliated.”
Lana knelt by Cam and slowly reached out and touched his shoulder. The burn of his skin stole into her hand right through his black t-shirt. “I’ve seen you puke like five times before.”
“This is different.”
I know. That’s the whole problem. It is different. “Remember, the first day of grade three, you barfed up oatmeal while we were singing the national anthem?”
Cam finally raised his head. His eyes were still clearly unfocused but he managed to smile. “Mrs. Hanson was so mad she had to clean it up.”
“She didn’t have a strong stomach. I swear she gagged a hundred times.”
“And there was that school play where I was the lead and I was so nervous I threw up backstage.”
“I know. I wonder who found that one.” Lana grimaced.
“Some poor soul, no doubt.”
“Then there was the time we stole your older brother’s cigarettes and we smoked three or four before we finally figured out it wasn’t a good idea.”
“We both puked behind my parent’s shed.”
“Then we brushed our teeth real well since we thought that would make them not smell the smoke on us.”
“My dad tanned my hide after.” Cam’s eyes slowly swiveled to her face. He managed a watery smile.
“We got drunk for the first time together. Skimming off my dad’s bar and putting the same amount of water in for what we took out.”
“That was the night I learned that mixing your poison isn’t exactly a good idea.”
“And tonight, we both learned that trying to keep pace with my father and brother and a guy like Dale is a bad idea.”
Cam blinked hard and Lana could see the embarrassment written all over his face. “It would have been fine if I hadn’t gone almost four years without really drinking anything at all.”
“What? The whole time you were gone you never had a drink?”
“I used to take a week off around New Years to go home and see my family for a late Christmas, but back at the village, it was just me and some local volunteers serving everyone. I was on call pretty much the whole time, so I couldn’t risk it.”
That strange gripping, fluttery sensation was back in the center of her chest. Her heart squeezed tight. Cam was a good man. The best fucking man she knew.
“Okay. Let’s get you into bed.” She hooked a hand under Cam’s arm. He didn’t even fight her. He managed to get to his feet. He had indeed puked on his shirt. “Raise your arms. I’ll just pull this off.”
He did, though she could tell it was killing him. The black shirt came off without a struggle. Lana threw it on the floor. Her hands dipped, unthinkingly, to the button of Cam’s jeans. His hand closed over hers a second later.
“I can manage the rest,” he said thickly.
She froze, her face on fire. Slowly that heated awareness spread to the rest of her body. Her heart stopped beating and her lungs nearly caved in on themselves.
“Yes. Of course. I’m going to sleep in the living room tonight. I’m wide awake so I’ll turn on the TV and pass out there.”
“You don’t have to. I promise I won’t throw up on you while you’re sleeping.”
“I know. Are you sure you’re okay? You won’t pass out and choke on your own vomit?”
“I’m a doctor. I know the risks.”
“Okay, doctor, maybe you’d like to calculate the odds of a hangover given the amount of alcohol that entered your bloodstream versus the amount you ejected.”
Cam rolled his eyes but then blinked, his head obviously throbbing. “I’m not even going to answer that.”
“Okay. Good night then.” Lana turned around before she changed her mind.
The fact that desire was even creeping up into her throat, choking off further words and making breathing impossible, was a little astounding. What the heck was happening to her? One second she was just helping Cam as a friend and the next her hands were on the button of his jeans and even though he was a mess, she wanted him to be her mess.
She wanted to explore that rock-solid body under those clothes. To force him down the hall and hand him a toothbrush and some mouthwash and a towel for the shower and kiss him senseless after he’d cleaned up. She wanted to breathe in the rich, dark, masculine aura, to learn the mysteries and nuances that made him distinctly his own person. To discover what he liked, what he loved…
That is more than enough. Lana gave her head a hard shake. “See you in the morning. If you make it.”
She didn’t stay and wait around for an answer. She was afraid of what she might do, of the new feelings creeping up inside her, the raw, animalistic longing for a man she’d known her whole life.
She turned and fled out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.
Downstairs, she could still hear the
hum of voices from the family room. She decided to retreat to her mother’s office instead and drown out the noise in her head and the strange, wild sensations that she had absolutely no business at all feeling, with a good dose of mindless videos streamed over her mother’s computer.
CHAPTER 9
Cam
As predicted, Cam woke with a killer headache the next morning.
He struggled to pull himself out of a bleary-eyed sleep when he heard movement going on downstairs. Voices drifted up from the kitchen or living room, he wasn’t sure. His head was a fog, like it had been stuffed entirely full of cotton. He knew why he hadn’t had more than a drink in four years. He’d be good if he didn’t have another for the rest of his life.
Cam sat up slowly, trying to calm both the blinding throbbing at his temples and his sour stomach. If the other three guys were in the same shape as he was, it was going to be a pretty rough Christmas morning.
What was I thinking? The truth was, he wasn’t thinking. He remembered mumbling something to Lana in his drunken state about sharing a bed with her being torture. Did I actually say that? Maybe he’d just imagined it.
He certainly hadn’t imagined puking on her bed last night. His face flushed with heat just thinking about that embarrassing episode. Maybe someday it would be something to laugh about, but for the moment another wave of humiliation crashed over him.
He knew he had to get himself together and get his ass downstairs. The clock on the nightstand announced that it was mid-morning, just after ten. He’d definitely overslept.
Cam’s eyes tracked around the room, finally resting on his duffel bag. His shirt from the night before had disappeared along with his jeans. Lana must have come into the room that morning and taken them away for laundry.
This couldn’t get any worse if I tried.
The blinding pain in his head and his wrenching stomach protested every single movement he made to pull on fresh clothing. Lana’s face swam through his vision. He swore that he’d seen something in her eyes the night before. Realization. Awareness. It had been after his thoughtless, drunken blurted comment on the stairs. He swore he hadn’t imagined the heat in her eyes right before she fled the room.