by Mia Sheridan
He chuckled and for a moment they simply smiled across at each other, the chemistry in the air between them as much a moving current as the rolling water.
A hawk cried out overhead and the trees rustled in the breeze. “Peaceful out here, isn’t it?” he murmured.
“Yes, except the bird calls, which have me running for the nestling formula. I’ve apparently already been programmed like one of Pavlov’s dogs.” She laughed. “Either that or it’s PTSD.” She shook her head. “Haddie’s on day duty with her new sitter, Millie Schmidt. Do you know her?”
Cam smiled. “Yes. She’s a nice girl. You deserve the break. I’m sorry I interrupted your quiet time.”
Scarlett shook her head. “No, I’m glad you’re here.” Her cheeks colored slightly as she looked up at him from under her lashes, and if he’d questioned it the other night, he suddenly knew without doubt that she felt the same electric charge flowing between them that he did. Damn it felt good. And terrible. His eyes roamed her face, her body. He’d thought before that she was pretty, but it was more than that. She was beautiful, from her shiny golden-brown hair to her perfect unpolished toes. He leaned over and pulled a long reed of grass from the ground, needing to busy his hands.
Scarlett wiggled her feet. “It feels wonderful,” she sighed and at the sound of her pleasure, his body tightened. He welcomed it. This moment . . . it felt good and . . . innocent. This is how it’s supposed to feel, a voice whispered inside. He thought of the natives who had once drank from this very stream, carrying containers of the cool, clean water back to their tribe. It amazed him that when he was in her presence for short bursts of time, it felt as if nothing else existed, only her. And that feeling was especially vivid here where there was only the earth below and the sky above. No Lilith House. No plan. No promise. No past, and no future. Only them. Only now.
It made him feel like the man he wanted to be. Not the one Georgie and Mason believed he should aspire to. Certainly not the vision Lilith House had had for him. Just his own, the one he rarely explored, the one who lived inside him like a secret garden just beginning to grow.
His thoughts caused his mood to sour, bursting the peaceful bubble he’d been in so briefly. He looked down, focusing on the practiced movement of his fingers.
“This feels like the first time in forever I’ve just sat still and done nothing,” she said.
He regarded her, noted the serene expression on her face, the way her body looked relaxed and pliant. The sun was shining on her exposed thighs and he could see a light brown birthmark mostly hidden by the raised hem of her skirt. Every muscle in his body primed to lift that skirt higher, to discover the mystery of her birthmark. Did it look like a crescent moon, or maybe a state? Maybe there was nothing to compare it to. Maybe that birthmark was a shape that was completely specific to her, like a fingerprint, or the curl of the hair on her scalp. He wanted to know it. He wanted to trace it and commit it to memory. Damn but he was attracted to her. “I imagine, being a single mom, you rarely get breaks.”
She nodded, sighed. “It’s true. It can be really hard not having someone to split the workload with.” She chewed on her lip for a moment as if considering. “In lots of ways, things are easier now that Haddie isn’t a baby. No diapers, no crazy sleep schedule.” She paused for a moment. “But Haddie . . . well, you haven’t met her, but she’s . . . she’s different.” She frowned slightly as though regretting her own words.
“How do you mean?”
“Well, my friend Merrilee calls her an old soul, and I guess that’s a good way to describe it. She’s the most serious kid you’ll ever meet. It’s like she has this very intense inner world that so far, she hasn’t shared with me.”
Cam tilted his head. He could relate to that. For different reasons of course. He’d been isolated from the world at large, his early existence mostly narrowed down to three basement rooms. He’d been deeply shamed by the fact that he—they—were considered such an embarrassment that they had to be hidden away like a dirty secret. Then later, tricked, used . . . Yes, that was all different, but even now, he had trouble sharing his inner feelings with anyone. Sometimes he wanted to, he did, but he simply didn’t know how. Nor had there been anyone he could tell, because his thoughts and experiences seemed too unusual, too strange and overwhelming to hand over to another person and expect them to even remotely understand. To handle them gently. Except for the people who’d lived it with him. Those who were also discarded . . . “Maybe she just doesn’t have the words yet to describe all her feelings,” he offered.
She nodded. “Yes. Yes, that’s what I’ve thought too. Hoped. It’s just . . . in the meantime, I worry about her. I worry that she keeps secrets from me.”
“What sort of secrets?”
Scarlett shrugged. “I don’t know.” Her gaze moved away again, a worried frown creasing her forehead. His fingers moved more swiftly on the blade of grass, folding and looping.
“I’m probably not one to give advice on kids”—he glanced up at her momentarily—“but what I do know is that you’re a loving mom who cares deeply for her daughter. Anyone with two eyes in their head could see that. And I don’t think there’s anything more important for a kid than that. She’ll find the words, eventually. And you’ll be the first person she brings them to.”
She smiled softly. “Thanks, Camden, I appreciate that.” She closed her eyes momentarily, breathing out a small sigh. “This is a good place to bring your troubles to. Do you feel that way as well?”
He nodded. “Yes. The peace of this place feels bigger than anything else.”
“Yes, that’s exactly it. I’ve been sitting here thinking about the natives you told me about, the ones who were so brutalized by Hubert Bancroft. You said there are legends about horned devils in these woods seeking revenge.” She shook her head. “But I only feel peace here, the way they must have once upon a time. It’s like it . . . lingers in some supernatural way. I think maybe it’s their gift and their legacy. Not vengeance, or hatred. Just peace.”
He watched his fingers working the grass for a moment. “I like the thought,” he said. “But after what was done to them, who could blame them for wanting vengeance? In one life or another. Don’t they deserve it?”
She tilted her head, her eyes moving over his features as though she’d heard something in his voice he hadn’t meant for her to hear. “I heard this story once about an old Cherokee. He said to his grandson, ‘There is a battle between two wolves inside us all. One wolf is evil and angry. Jealous and resentful. The other wolf is good. It is filled with love and hope, humility and empathy.’” She paused and he leaned toward her unbidden. “The little boy thought about it and asked, ‘Grandpa, which wolf wins?’ And the old man quietly replied, ‘The one you feed.’”
Camden felt an odd rush of breeze move through him as though a door somewhere deep inside had just been opened. The wolf you feed is the one who wins. But was it possible to stop feeding one wolf to feed the other? And was it too late for him? He let out a slow breath. “I like that. I’ll remember it.”
She smiled. “I’ve talked a whole lot about myself. Tell me about you.”
He squinted down at the grass, creating a loop and threading the end through it. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he couldn’t tell her the truth either. “Not much to tell. I grew up here, moved away for a while, came back, applied for a job at the sheriff’s office, and now here I am.”
He felt her gaze on him but didn’t look up. “That just told me a whole lot of nothing.”
Cam smiled. “I wish I was more interesting but sadly, if I went into all the details of my life, you’d fall asleep right here on the riverbank, risk rolling into the water and drowning. Whatever the opposite of glamorous is, that’s me.”
Scarlett laughed. “That dull, huh?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not sure I’m buying it. Although as you know, I had a bad run-in with ‘glamorous,’ so the opposite sounds like a welcome change.” She paused. “
Maybe someday you’ll go into more detail about your terribly mundane existence.”
He chuckled. They were both silent for a moment. Speaking of her bad run-in with glamorous . . . “I looked up that actor,” he admitted after a moment. “Haddie’s father.”
She grimaced. “I was hoping you’d forget I told you all that.”
He hadn’t forgotten. In fact, as he’d googled the guy, jealousy had pumped through his veins. So stupid, so stupid. He didn’t want to feel that way, but he did. He’d wanted to put his fist through the screen when the guy with the megawatt smile had popped up. “I told you your secret’s safe with me.”
“I believe you.” She paused. “Why’d you look him up?”
Camden focused on his fingers for a few beats. “I was curious about what sort of idiot spent time with you, then crawled away like a spineless coward,” he said softly. When he dared look up at her, her expression was a mixture of surprise and pleasure. Camden stood up and stepped across the stream, using three exposed rocks for stepping stones. He dropped down on the bank beside her and handed her the grass blade, now formed into something new.
She took it from him, their eyes holding as their fingers brushed. Scarlett’s gaze fell to Cam’s mouth and his gut clenched with need. She was so close. He could see the freckles on her nose and the tiny black dot in the blue of her left eye. He could smell her delicate, sun-drenched scent. She looked at what he’d given her and then back up at him, her expression morphing into utter delight.
“A girl,” she said, drawing in a breath. “Me?”
He nodded, feeling momentarily shy but pleased by her joy.
“How do you do it?” she asked, nodding to the re-formed blade of grass.
He shrugged. “Practice.” Lots of time on my hands when I was younger.
She glanced at it again. “It’s incredible. I’ll cherish it.”
She spoke so seriously, and with so much reverence, that his heart jolted. It was only a blade of grass and she was acting like he’d given her the Hope diamond. Still . . . he’d so seldom in his life been recognized for any accomplishment, he’d so seldom felt seen by anyone, and he couldn’t deny the pleasure that swam inside him at the knowledge that he’d made her happy.
She glanced at his lips again and he couldn’t help it, he leaned forward and kissed her. The kiss was soft, gentle. It was the slow brushing of velvety, sun-warmed lips. It was his fingers on the nape of her neck, sliding upward to grip her scalp as she moaned, his body giving an answering jolt of pure lust. It was her tongue sliding into his mouth and his meeting hers. It felt like the most natural thing in all the world, and the most extraordinary.
It was delicious mindlessness as she fell back onto the dry grass and he came over the top of her, tilting his head so he could explore her mouth more deeply. He molded his groin to hers, pulling back and then pressing forward, a groan of pleasure rumbling from his chest. His body felt incredibly alive in a way it never had before. The sunshine warmed his back, the softness of her curves cradled the long, hard planes of his own. For one sweet moment, there was nothing but beauty and rightness before all the old shame began flooding in. Camden pulled away, his eyes widening momentarily as he imagined a look of fear on her features, breath expelling in relief when he saw only calm, only need, and then the blink of confusion. “Is everything okay?” she asked.
He nodded, giving her a small smile. His hang-ups weren’t her fault and he wouldn’t let them sully what that kiss had been: sweet perfection. He wanted to do it again. He wanted to take it further. So much further. He wanted to lose himself in her. He wanted to, but he couldn’t. If only he could. God, if only. So he pulled away, sitting up. She sat up as well, taking a moment to smooth her hair and lower her skirt from where it’d ridden up. He spotted a small, oval green-gray stone at the edge of the water and picked it up, running his thumb over its perfect smoothness.
He thought about Georgia and a modicum of guilt rose inside of him. Damn it. This, this had felt so good for a time, but with the kiss, reality had steamrolled back in, and there was nothing he could do about it. He’d made his choices, he’d sealed his fate. He’d fed his wolf. “Yeah.” He mustered another smile, squinting over at her. “I was just thinking we should probably get going.”
Scarlett ran her hand over her hair again. She looked embarrassed. Hurt and regret pooled in his chest. “Right. Yes.” She began to stand and he jumped up first, offering her his hand. She wobbled slightly, laughed, as he pulled her up. “I guess I do have a project I should be managing back at the old homestead.”
The homestead. Lilith House. Keep focused, Cam.
He dropped the stone in his pocket and they began to walk through the woods, shafts of sunlight beaming through the breaks in the trees. Their fingers brushed, and he wanted to take her hand but he didn’t. Instead he grasped the stone in his pocket, running a finger over its time-worn edges. It had been pummeled and tumbled, its coarseness knocked away until it washed up on the sunny shore, smooth . . . soft. The time at the stream with Scarlett had felt that way too . . . gentle, peaceful, in an existence that had only rarely experienced such things. It would be a reminder of what that’d felt like, even if it could only ever be temporary. Hell, maybe it’d serve as a wish that perhaps he could be made softer from the hardships he’d endured as well. Interesting thought, foreign even. Each instance he spent time with Scarlett shifted something different inside of him. He wasn’t sure he liked it.
After another few minutes, she turned to him. “By the way, you didn’t tell me why you came by in the first place.”
“Huh?”
“You stopped by Lilith House and one of the men told you where to find me. But why’d you stop by?”
“Oh, uh, I was just checking in. Making sure everything was okay after the other night.”
She glanced at him sideways and he sensed some disappointment in her expression. “I appreciate it, I do. But you really don’t have to feel responsible for my safety. I’ll call you if I require your professional services.”
He held back a smile. He’d ruffled her feathers by suggesting his visit was for purely professional reasons. He liked that it bothered her. It meant she was hoping his visit was personal. And the truth? It had been. He’d wanted to see her, plain and simple. The professional check-in was going to be his excuse. “Actually, the check-in was really more for the bird.”
She stopped, putting her hands on her hips. He stopped too, turning to look at her. “The bird? There was some kid crawling around through the walls of my house, and you came back to check on the bird?” His lip quirked. She looked so damned indignant and so damned beautiful.
At the movement of his lip, her brow dipped. “You’re joking.”
“I’m joking.” He wasn’t very good at it. He knew that. And now he’d made her mad.
She made a soft huffing sound and continued walking. He caught up with her, grabbing her hand and swinging her around. “I came to check on you because I wanted to make sure you were okay, but also because . . . I wanted to see you.” Damn, no, I shouldn’t have said that.
She tilted her head, watching him. “You’re very hot and cold, Deputy.”
Deputy. He released a breath, ran a hand through his short-cropped hair. She was right. He was. He was up and down and all over the map. He had reasons for that. He wanted her, and he shouldn’t. He was fighting himself because he had to. “I know.” He sighed. “Things are . . . complicated right now. I need to focus on my job.” Excuses. Shit, she was looking at him like she saw right through him. She probably did because he was a shit liar. There went that softness between them. He’d ruined it.
She nodded slowly, taking her lip between her teeth for a moment before letting it go. “Well.” She let out a loud whoosh of air. “Things are complicated with me too. I’ve got a lot going on.” She waved her hand in the general direction of Lilith House. They’d moved close enough now that they could hear the soft echoes of banging from the work crew. “I re
ally don’t have time for . . . well, anything. So . . .”
He glanced at her. “Just bad timing,” he murmured.
“Right. Bad timing.” She lifted her chin as they stepped from the forest, looking both accepting and determined.
Desperation clawed at his insides. She was drifting away from him, and he was letting her. He opened his mouth to say something, what, he didn’t know, but—
“Haddie’s back,” she said happily, picking up their pace. “Mrs. Schmidt very nicely offered to drive Haddie home,” she went on as they drew nearer. It seemed like she was talking more to fill the awkward silence than to make any real conversation. “Said she was going to be out at a church meeting . . .”
He looked ahead to see a white Camry parked in front of the house.
“Scarlett—”
“Thanks for coming by, Deputy,” she said, stepping ahead. “Haddie!”
He stopped next to his truck watching as Scarlett turned, waving to the Camry as it drove away. Dismissed. He’d been dismissed.
Get in your truck, Cam. Drive away. Mason has access to the house now. There’s no reason for you to be here. But his feet kept moving, walking to where Scarlett stood with the little blonde-haired girl he’d seen lying on the blanket the day he’d installed the lock on her front door. Before he’d made it to them, Scarlett turned, the box he knew contained the baby bird held in her hands. “See for yourself, Deputy.” She pulled back the black fabric to reveal a tiny portion of the sleeping bird before covering it again. “Alive and well. And due for a feeding so I’d better get to it.” She turned from him and stopped short, a gasp emerging as she went to her knees. “Haddie?”
Camden’s heart jumped as the hair on his neck rose. The angelic-looking little girl was standing in the gravel, visibly trembling, a look of shocked horror on her face as she stared up at him, unblinking. Beneath her, a pool of urine was seeping into the stone.