by Stacey Lynn
I pressed the bottle of beer to my lips. “Was Trina?”
His brows arched in surprise. We all knew the answer to that question. He’d fallen so hard so fast for her, I was surprised they hadn’t eloped yet. “Not really the same thing, and you know it.”
“You tell her yet?” Aidan asked. My grip on my bottle tightened. When I didn’t answer, he sighed. “Can I give you some advice?”
“Sounds like you’re going to whether I want it or not.”
“Don’t be a dick to Aidan,” Tyson said, glancing at his watch.
Aidan rolled his eyes. “You guys gave me shit, always wanting to know why I went to Chelsea instead of you after Derrick died.” His voice trailed off, and tension mounted at the table. We all grieved his son, who had died unexpectedly. Derrick’s death was a wound that hadn’t yet healed for any of us. And yeah, we’d been concerned. Aidan had avoided all of us after the skateboarding accident but for some reason, he’d gone to Chelsea. “Couldn’t put it into words then, and I’m not sure I can now. And I don’t say this to hurt you guys, but she was easy to be around because she didn’t expect anything from me.” His serious and sad gaze roamed all of our expressions before he lifted a hand. “Before you can argue with me, I’m saying women have a sixth sense about that shit—what men need—sometimes before we do. Chelsea was hurting, too, knowing Derrick, but she gave me that time and that space to come to her with my problems. Camden,” he said, and turned to me. “She might be that for you, brother; she might not. But I’m saying give her a chance. Find someone to unload your shit on and get back to being you. For the love of God, I don’t know what you’re running from, what brought you back to us, and I’m not complaining, but sometimes there’s nothing better than the soft touch of a woman’s curves and the tenderness of her heart to soothe the storm inside.”
I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth. It did nothing to quell the rage he’d started. Or the pain lacing through my chest. Fuck.
Tension mounted around the table, thick and heavy.
I shook my head and grinned, but it was forced. “Damn, Aidan. You’re fucking pussy whipped.”
The joke was rough, sounding all wrong to my own ears.
He shrugged. “Might be. The rest of us might be, too, but we’re also fucking happy. Can you say that?”
With that parting shot, he tossed back the rest of his drink and sauntered to the bar to order more.
I looked at Declan and Tyson. They were staring at me like they wanted to add something, but what in the hell could they say that Aidan already hadn’t?
“Fuck,” I whispered and drained my beer.
“You gonna tell her?”
I had to. If at some point I wanted anything to move past a weekend where we could pretend we could actually work, I’d have to tell her.
“When the time is right,” I admitted reluctantly.
“My advice?” Tyson said, glancing at his watch again. “You don’t want it, but these girls have known Camden for years, and from watching her, I’m going to tell you the sooner the better. She finds out you’ve been lying to her, I’m gonna guess that girl doesn’t do second chances.”
“I haven’t lied.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.” He grinned then and set down his drink. “I’ve got a wife to get back to. Told her I’d give her an hour of freedom before she was beneath me again. We done with our bullshit for the night?”
Like I was going to stop his honeymoon for my bullshit.
I waved him off. “Go. Have fun.”
“Don’t have to worry about that. Last night Blue did this thing—”
“Ack. Fuck.” I pressed my hands to my ears like a kid. “Don’t need to hear that shit, Tyson.”
“Yeah, but it made you laugh, and you haven’t done enough of that since you’ve been back, either. So I’m not fucking around, David. Find someone to unload on, like Aidan said. We miss you.”
He left and I turned to Declan. He was standing at the table, a pensive expression on his face.
“You have anything you need to add?”
“I think they said it all.”
I needed to get out of there. All the heavy talk had killed my high of the day with Camden, and all I wanted to do was get back to her so I could forget about everything they’d said. “I’m going to take off. Have a good night.”
Declan grinned. “Have fun with Camden.”
I walked away without responding but heard Declan’s low laughter echoing behind me.
Shoving my hands into the pockets of my shorts, I took the long way back to my bungalow. Camden would still be with her friends, and the last thing I wanted to do was be alone in a quiet place.
Kicking off my sandals and holding them in my hand, I walked along the beach until I found a dark, shaded area away from the lights of the resort and sat my ass down.
Years of being a doctor had been flushed down the drain after a horrific night in the emergency room. The patient was a little girl, her body so small and mangled, blood seeping from what had seemed like everywhere. She had eventually survived, but it would take years of therapy to get her walking again. Her mom hadn’t made it.
And the dad? Absolutely fucking destroyed.
All due to a carjacking gone bad and bullets flying in a city where the assault weapons they had used were illegal in the first damn place. From what I’d learned from cops later, they’d been headed south of the city after the mom had taken her daughter on her tenth birthday to see The Lion King at the theater. A drug deal went bad, men were killed, and when the killer needed to steal a car, the men he had been running from caught up with him. Gunshots rang out, hitting the mom in the head before she could get away. The daughter had been hit in the thigh and stomach.
And me? I’d snapped. Because fuck it. Every night it was the same damn thing, repeating like Groundhog Day. Wake up, lose some people, save some people. The majority were young men, rushed in with bullet holes in their bodies, and they all had the same damn excuse. “I was just standing on the corner, man, minding my own business. I didn’t do nothing wrong.”
Yeah. Bullshit. But we weren’t lawyers or judges. Our job was to fix them, and when we did, if they weren’t arrested for anything, we sent them back to their corners on the streets where they’d deal drugs, pimp out prostitutes, sell more guns, or worse—ruin innocent people’s lives—until we saw them again.
My dreams of becoming a doctor evaporated in what seemed like an instant the moment I saw Gavin Merryfield—I’d never forget his name—so full of grief and despair and ruin, turn from a man into a ghost before my eyes.
I’d gone home that night and bawled my eyes out. Bawled harder than I had when my own dad died when I was eighteen. All those years of studying and classes and working, only to end up feeling like I wasn’t doing a damn bit of good because the death tolls kept rising, and it was all just…worthless.
But could Camden handle that? Who knew when I’d be able to tell her? She thought I was some dirt-poor bartender, but in truth, I had more money than I could ever possibly need thanks to the McGregor Trust Fund. I’d been one of only a few students I knew who had paid tuition in cash, without a blink of an eye. She might be able to understand me walking away from a career I didn’t know if I ever wanted to return to, but even I knew she’d already feel betrayed by my not being honest about the other shit.
I’d grown up with girls and women throwing themselves at me, and I never knew if it was for my trust fund, family connections, or just me. Camden’s need to have a guy with money made her the exact kind of woman I should have stayed away from, even though I knew there was a reason she needed that.
She doesn’t seem like the kind of woman to give second chances.
Yeah, Tyson was right. She wasn’t, which meant I had a short amount of time to get her so tied to me that when I told her the truth before she found it out from someone else, she’d be hooked so deeply she couldn’t leave.
Chapter 9
&
nbsp; Camden
David trudged up the stairs to the deck of his bungalow like he held the weight of the world on his shoulders. Head down, shoulders slumped, sandals in one hand, he leaned against the railing like he couldn’t hold up his own weight.
I sat in the private infinity pool, where I’d been for the last hour, waiting for him to return, and for the last thirty minutes had debated about whether or not I should at least put my swimsuit on. It was more like a hot tub, the water warmed and toasty. We had the option of turning on jets, but I’d liked the silence.
When he got close to the pool, still not looking up and noticing me, I could no longer stand the morose expression.
“Hey,” I said, grazing my hand slowly along the top of the water. The waves rippled quietly and he jerked his head up.
“Hey.” He looked around the pool, the deck, the beach, and back to me before he frowned. “What are you doing out here? It’s late.”
Nervousness fluttered inside my belly. When I came back from having a couple margaritas with the girls, I’d made one decision.
To expect nothing from David. We’d finish the weekend together, go back to Latham Hills, and for once, I would just see what happened.
The thought made my gut tighten unpleasantly, but I pushed it back. Earlier, I’d proclaimed I wanted to punch my fear in the face.
So there I was, naked…waiting for David.
I grabbed my beer that I’d set at the edge of the pool. “I was waiting for you.”
Did he hear how dry my voice sounded? How it shook while I tried to look brave and nonchalant? Did I look seductive or like a fool?
His head tilted, and he gave a small hint of a grin. “Yeah? What for?”
He took a few steps toward the pool, and me. I took a hefty swallow of my Red Stripe. Boldly, I went for honesty. “I missed you.”
I glanced away at the admission before I could see his expression. I had never made myself so obvious, so open for a guy.
His bare feet padded on the wood deck as he walked closer. “Camden?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Yes?”
“Are you naked in there?” His tone lightened, and I hoped like hell the darkness would hide my eggplant coloring.
I turned to face him, twisting my neck and tilting my head back. I came face-to-face with beautiful dark-blue eyes and a smile of white teeth. He crouched down and ran his hand through my hair, stopping at the back of my neck before he held me immobile.
“You naked for me?”
“Thought I’d go skinny-dipping.” Everyone did it at least once, right? So what if it was a private deck and no one could see me, and I had been perfectly alone and hidden until David walked up. It still counted. Goosebumps popped on my arms and down to my stomach, making me shiver. Still…in for a penny, in for a pound. “Want to join me?”
His gaze fixated on mine, he dropped his smile. For a moment, when he didn’t speak, I thought he’d say no, but then he shook away whatever he was thinking about.
“Yeah. I’ll be right there. Give me a minute, okay?”
I pulled out of his gentle hold and lifted my beer. “Of course.”
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the top of my head before standing. I watched him head into the bungalow.
His head up, his shoulders back, and his stroll confident and sure, all the weight he’d been carrying when I’d first seen him was gone. Had I done that? Just me?
I brushed away the crazy thought as he disappeared into his bedroom and the light turned on, his form illuminated through the window. Then I turned back around, faced the ocean, and thought of nothing.
For the first time since I could remember, I didn’t have lists and doubts and worries and plans clouding my mind. I simply relaxed in the warm water, drank a beer, and reveled in the moon as it lifted higher into the sky and the sound of the ocean waves rolling into the planks beneath our waterfront hideaway.
The soft whoosh of the sliding glass door opening pulled my attention off the water and I turned.
David walked out, and my body froze.
Nothing. He was wearing nothing but a towel and a smile, holding two Red Stripes. In the warm water, my body sizzled at the sight of him. Tall and lean with muscles in all the perfect places, the towel did nothing to hide his thick bulge.
My mouth went dry and I reached for my beer when he sat down next to me at the edge of the pool. He slid his feet into the water, his hip inches from my shoulder.
“You okay?” he asked with more than a hint of amusement. I could barely pull my eyes off his chest, with that smattering of hair that made me want to run my fingers over it to feel the coarseness.
When I didn’t answer, he set down a beer between us. “Thought you’d like another drink. You seem sort of tense.”
He didn’t hide his laughter this time.
I couldn’t find the urge to scowl at him for laughing at me. I did need the drink. Possibly the entire case. What had I been thinking asking him to join me in the pool…naked?
“Thank you.” I managed to remember my manners. Sliding my empty bottle to the side, I reached for the fresh one and took a drink. “Are you going to join me?”
“I’m afraid if I do, I won’t be able to control myself.”
A dozen bold, seductive responses flashed through my mind. I couldn’t speak them. His honesty left me speechless and mindless.
God…why did he…this guy…make me feel like this? Scattered and bereft, and yet safe at the same time?
I glanced to the side only to see his bulge beneath the towel, and quickly looked back at the pool.
“What do you want to do then?” Had I swallowed a golf ball? I could barely get the words out, and they felt heavy in my throat.
He slid his hand to my hair again, gently pushing it back and behind my ear. I’d left it down. He liked my hair, and I liked him touching it. On his wrist, I caught a quick flash of the band he’d taken from me this morning, worn like a bracelet…like a medal.
“Come sit in front of me. You need to relax.”
Relax? With David behind me wearing nothing but a towel and an erection and his hands on me? I’d evaporate in the water.
I shifted and slid around him, careful to keep my body covered. The curve of my breasts showed above the pool, but that was all I allowed. Once I was seated in between his knees, he brushed my hair off one shoulder. It flowed in front of me and fanned out in the water, tickling me as it moved across my chest.
I shivered from the soft sensation and tensed when his hands curved around my shoulders.
“I’m not that tense,” I lied, as he began massaging my shoulders.
“I have a feeling you’re always tense. Why is that?”
His thumbs worked a knot at the back of my shoulder and my head dropped forward. A groan of pain and pleasure burst from my lips. “God, that feels good.” I wanted to tell him I wasn’t always tense, that I wasn’t stressed out almost every day of my life, and that I didn’t constantly feel the burden of responsibility. At the bar earlier, though, I’d decided to try to open up. That wouldn’t happen without a sliver of honesty on my part.
“I didn’t have an easy childhood,” I said, feeling my voice hitch. That was far from the truth. My childhood had been easy as pie, despite being dirt poor. It wasn’t until I was almost a teenager that my easy life turned to despair. I pushed myself past the thought that could swallow me if I ever allowed myself to dwell on it and continued. “Typical story, I guess. Single mom, poor. I’ve had to work every day of my life, and the thought of failing keeps me focused.”
His hands didn’t stop moving until I was done. He paused briefly before pressing his thumbs deeper into my shoulder.
“Poor?”
I nodded, thankful I didn’t have to see his face when he asked the question. Everyone always looked the same. I’d get disbelieving looks from people who thought not getting the newest cellphone or designer jeans made them poor. Then pity.
“
Single-wide trailer, no air-conditioning. Barely had enough money to pay the bills. Sometimes we didn’t even have that. A drunk, though a nice one, on one side of us. Cops always called to the trailer on the other side because the man couldn’t keep his hands and fists off his constant slew of girlfriends.”
“God…”
“Don’t,” I snapped. “Don’t take that tone, filled with pity and sadness for me.”
I pushed off the bench I’d been sitting on, away from his gentle touch. My hair…my shoulders…my skin…my hips…his hands had been everywhere on me, and for a while, he’d helped me forget everything.
“I don’t pity you,” he said when I slid to the side. “Why can’t I be sad that’s how you grew up, though? Isn’t it sad?”
He stayed where he was, his hands loosely draped in his lap, but his eyes bored into me from the distance.
“It wasn’t all bad.” It hadn’t always been. It had been normal. It meant no birthday cakes or presents at Christmastime. It meant the smallest tree we could afford, or sometimes none at all. But it also meant stringing popcorn strands with Christmas music in the background. It meant homemade cookies from scratch, the only dessert I’d had until I was ten and went to Suzanne’s birthday party. It meant learning to sew my own clothes and finding fabrics on clearance. It meant my mom making a game out of searching for the nicest clothes at secondhand stores.
“What did your mom do?” he asked.
Memories that always buzzed beneath the surface grew louder. God, I hated thinking about that. “The best she could,” I snapped, more harshly than I intended.
But God, after everything, my mom who was sweet and often flighty became a dragon, breathing fire on her quest for vengeance. She didn’t stop, didn’t care what people thought of her; she fought for me. Tooth and nail until that bastard was imprisoned.
David lifted his hands, his sigh heavy in the quiet. “Camden, honey. I’m not judging. I’m just asking…trying to get to know you here. You can tell me anything—you know that, right? I wouldn’t judge you for how you grew up.”