Reclaim

by Martinez, Aly

  I tugged at my earlobe as though the audio had deceived me. “I’m sorry. Did you say you hired a private investigator? In Clovert?”

  “Technically, he’s out of Chicago, but yeah. If Jonathan is pulling this kind of shit on you and your family, I’m sure he’s done other stuff too. We prove he’s a crooked cop and he’ll lose his badge. If we’re lucky, he could spend a few years behind bars. But regardless, your charges will get dropped and he won’t be able to target you anymore.”

  I blinked, my lips curling up sardonically. All of it sounded great. Like great-great. Better than great. But there was one, teeny-tiny problem.

  “Are you crazy? I can’t afford an investigator. Especially not one out of Chicago. I make Clovert money, Cam. Bad Clovert money at that. I know I told you about my rainy-day-slash-Louboutin fund, but I think you have vastly overestimated the contents of the account. And now that I’ve been suspended from work, the rainy day might turn into a rainy year. Truthfully, I don’t even know if I can afford you. I was planning to discuss a friends-and-family discount tonight after I thoroughly plied you with food and alcohol.”

  “Nora, relax. I’m not expecting you to pay for anything.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest, and had I not been working myself into a frenzy, I would have smiled at the way his gaze dropped to my boobs. “Then who is? I don’t know if you remember or not, Cam, but handouts are not my thing. Especially not from you.”

  His head snapped back as if I’d slapped him. “Why especially not from me?”

  “Because that’s not who we are. We’re give and take. You bring a sandwich. I bring a sandwich. You already dropped everything, flew down here, and are doing your best to dig me out of this mess.” I walked around the bar and stopped in front of him. Hooking my pinky with his, I swayed our arms back and forth. “I appreciate you being here more than I can ever express, but I can’t in good conscience let you pay for an investigator too. You’ve already brought a sandwich. A big one. Like one of those yard-long submarine sandwiches that I’m going to be eating for the next month. It’s my turn.” I glanced over my shoulder at the smorgasbord of food splayed across my counter. “Good news, you’ll probably be able to eat on it for a month too.”

  “I can see this,” he teased. “But what if my dad wants to bring a sandwich?”

  I did another round of the slow blink. “Your…dead dad?”

  Releasing my finger, he stepped away, plucking his wine from the bar as he went. “Yep, that’s the one.” He walked over to my tan microfiber sectional that Thea had sold me for a steal when she’d moved and sank down right in the middle, crossing his legs knee to ankle. It was almost as sexy as the veins. “When he died, I inherited a good bit of money. My mom and I went round and round about me taking it. I have no idea why she was surprised. I’d refused to take a single penny from them when I went off to school, but she was livid when I refused an inheritance. She yelled at me that if I didn’t take it she was going to give it to Jonathan’s charity in Josh’s name.”

  “Shut. Up.” I walked over and sat on the cushion beside him, careful not to touch him again despite my nearly constant desire to launch myself into his arms.

  “I’d never snatched a check so fast in my entire life.” He took a sip. “My dad and I had a complicated relationship. He wasn’t abusive—at least not physically the way yours was. But he did a number on me trying to force me into this perfect mold he had in his mind of who his son should be. Square peg, round hole and all. It didn’t matter what I did. He always viewed me as a failure, and it took a long time for me to figure out that maybe I wasn’t the part that was messed up.”

  I inched closer until my knee bumped his thigh. “He was a fool. Your square peg is better than his round hole any day of the week. And he missed out by being too damn stubborn to open his eyes.”

  He grinned. “Please don’t say my square peg and my dad’s round hole in the same sentence ever again.”

  I barked a laugh. “Yeah, as soon as it came out of my mouth, that metaphor went sideways. But I meant it. Look at you. Smart, and kind, and funny.” I batted my eyelashes. “Not too hard on the eyes, if I do say so myself.”

  He shook his head, but that grin stretched.

  I crinkled my nose at him. “Your dad can keep the sandwich. I’d rather have you and your square peg.”

  It was his turn to laugh, and it was deep and rich, the soundtrack of everything I’d missed over the last five years.

  “Don’t speak too quickly. I pay all my own bills and the mountain of student loan debt out of principle, and I use his money for things that would piss him off but mean a lot to me.” He smiled tight and gave a piece of my hair a gentle tug. “Like, say, a donation to a brown bag lunch program for the students of Clovert or maybe an investigator to take down his nephew.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath, and it had absolutely nothing to do with taking down Jonathan Caskey.

  “You donate to my lunch program?”

  He shrugged. “It’s a great program.”

  “Cam,” I whispered when all further words failed me.

  He slid his hand over and gave my knee a squeeze. “You have no idea how proud I am of everything you’ve done for those kids.”

  A tear finally worked its way from my eye. “How?”

  “A tip from an anonymous source.”

  “Joe.” I laughed through tears.

  “Or Joe.” He winked. “But, now, you’re going to let me pay for an investigator so, at the very least, we can get Jonathan off your back. Those kids need the sexy brown-bag lunch lady back ASAP.”

  “Cam,” I repeated because what else was there to say?

  He tipped his chin down and stared deep into my eyes. We were close—maybe not close enough to kiss, but with a few inches, I could have remedied that.

  He moved his hand to my face and traced my jaw with his thumb. My breath hitched and a mixture of clean cotton and rich musk intoxicated my senses. Pure Camden Cole erotic.

  “You gotta stop calling me Cam, babe,” he rasped, but he said it with his gaze trained on my mouth.

  Maybe it was the moment.

  Maybe it was the wine.

  Maybe it was because he was so close after all those years of dreaming of him.

  Whatever it was, I set aim on his mouth and threw caution to the wind.

  Camden threw a proverbial bucket of ice water back.

  “Nora, wait,” he said, hurling himself out of the way and spilling his wine all over the carpet. He shot to his feet and planted his hands on his hips, his breathing so ragged there was a solid chance he was hyperventilating.

  And wasn’t that just a kick in the pants. The only man I’d ever loved, and he was on the verge of asphyxiation at the idea of kissing me. Outstanding.

  “I’ll get a towel,” I announced, my face sliding through the spectrum of reds.

  After lurching to my feet, I darted down the hall, passing not only the guest bathroom that had towels under the sink, but also the hall linen closet, which had several more. I was in the midst of an embarrassment overdose and my bedroom seemed like the safest retreat.

  What the hell had I been thinking, trying to kiss him? Yes, he had been staring at my mouth and being generally sweet, but things had been off since he’d arrived in town. He’d rejected me almost every time I’d touch him. What part of that made me think this was ever going to end with our mouths fused together and, if I’d had anything to say about it, our clothes strewn across the floor?

  I shut my bedroom door and cradled my head in my hands. What was wrong with me? He’d been nothing but good to me. Short of a steed, he’d been a white knight rushing to my aid every chance he got, and this was how I repaid him? By trying to seduce him when he so obviously wasn’t interested?

  Sure, it had been five years, but I’d assumed our physical connection would still be there.

  God knew I still felt it.

  I now knew he did not.

  Awesome. Fucking awes
ome.

  There was a rap at my door. “Nora?”

  Shit.

  “Just a second!” I called, walking to the mirror to see if the staggering ache in my chest showed on my face. It did, but there was only so much I could hide, so I swiped under my eyes and smoothed down a few frizzies on the top of my head. Then I hurried to the bathroom and snagged a towel off the bar before running back out and swinging the door open, avoiding eye contact as best as possible. “Sorry, I just needed to grab a towel.”

  He grabbed my arm before I had the chance to pass. “Nora, come on. Let’s talk.”

  “Okay.” I tugged my arm away and laughed awkwardly. “I just need to get the wine up before it has a chance to settle. White wine may not stain, but it will make a sticky mess if I’m not fast. This is a rental and I’d really rather not lose my security deposit.” I tried to act chill as I sped down the hall, but did powerwalking ever really look cool?

  I dropped to my knees beside the wet spot and dabbed, wondering how long I had to do it before the towel absorbed me too.

  His shoes entered my line of sight. “Just stop. I’ll have the carpet cleaned. It was my fault.”

  “It’s fine. I’ve almost got it.”

  “Nora,” he urged. “Stop.”

  I tucked my chin to my chest and told myself not to cry. I’d never truly been rejected before, mainly because I never put myself out there.

  But this was Camden. And rejected kiss aside, things had been strange and uncomfortable since he’d shown up. I wanted to pretend he was still my boy from the creek, the teenager I’d kissed when I had no other way to show him how much I loved him, or the man I’d given my virginity to because I couldn’t imagine ever being with anyone else.

  But it was different.

  He was different and it fucking sucked because I’d let my Camden disappear in the five years while I had been trying to fix myself.

  With a hand under both of my arms, he lifted me with ease, wrapping me in a tight hug as soon as he had me on my feet.

  “I’m sorry.” I closed my eyes and buried my face in his chest. “I shouldn’t have done that. And, now, it’s weird. And it was already weird. I just… I’ve missed you. Having you here…” I groaned. “I don’t know. It felt right. But clearly it wasn’t, and now, I feel bad because I made you uncomfortable. And…and…”

  He squeezed me tight. “Shhhh. It’s okay. I’m not uncomfortable. You didn’t do anything wrong. I felt it too. It’s just…” He rested his chin on the top of my head. “I’m not available right now, Nora.”

  My lids popped open and an “O” formed on my mouth. My emotions were all over the place, so I couldn’t pin down if it was the start of Oh no, Oh shit, or Okay.

  The idea of Camden with a girlfriend burned, but it wasn’t a novel concept. I’d seen pictures of him with girls online and lived to tell the tale. Honestly, it made sense. He’d been friendly and attentive since he’d arrived, but the minute I’d crossed the line, he shut down. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it earlier.

  In a way, there was a peace that accompanied the thought of him having a girlfriend. It meant all the strange and awkward reactions he’d been having were because of her, not because our friendship had changed or after all this time I was losing him.

  He simply had loyalties that lay elsewhere.

  Don’t get me wrong. There was a definite knife hanging out of my heart, but I respected him for the way he’d handled himself.

  I gave his chest a shove and stepped out of his arms. “Jesus, Cam. Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was…waiting for the right time.”

  “Well, I’d say you hit the nail on the head. I almost mauled you.”

  He looked down at his shoes. “Yeah, phew. Really dodged that bullet.”

  “All right, smartass. Who is she? You want to talk about her?”

  He slanted his head to the side. “No?”

  “Okay, good. You are my best friend, and on any other night, I am happy to listen, but maybe not on the same night I threw myself at you and got rejected.”

  Yeah. See? I could totally do this. Though more wine definitely wouldn’t hurt.

  I walked to the kitchen and grabbed my glass and then took a long drink, which made my nose burn.

  Camden stood in my living room, his blue gaze locked on me, a wrinkle in the middle of his brows. “So, we’re okay?”

  I lifted my wine glass in the air. “Absolutely. I’m happy if you’re happy.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Right. Totally happy.”

  I kept busy for the next little bit, chatting and warming up the food that had cooled. After a while, his stiff shoulders relaxed and a smile returned to his handsome face. He told me all about his life in New York. Come to find out, he was a criminal defense attorney, and his eyes lit every time he talked about his career.

  He was working at a busy firm with the hopes of one day becoming a partner, but he did pro-bono work on the side. He said no one had ever paid him in ham and mac and cheese though, and yes, he actually ate cheese. We sat on the couch with two spoons and shared a pint of ice cream, laughing like old times. Though I still fought the urge to kiss him almost constantly, things felt normal again, and for that, I’d never been more grateful.

  He left around midnight, even giving me a hug at the door. I’m talking a good hug. A classic Camden Cole hug.

  We made plans for the next day, unfortunately most of which involved a drug test he’d scheduled just to “cover my ass in case we saw the inside of a courtroom.” But he also promised me brunch at my favorite diner in Thomaston, so I didn’t complain.

  All in all, it was a fantastic evening of good food, good wine, and good company.

  Even if I did cry myself to sleep.

  The deafening ring of my cell phone on the nightstand shocked me awake. Between listening to the couple in the room next door argue and thinking about Nora’s oh-so-calm reaction when I’d told her I wasn’t available, it had taken forever for me to fall asleep.

  I had no idea what specific time it was at the moment, but based on the dim light cascading through the curtains, it was too damn early to be receiving phone calls.

  An unknown number flashed on the screen, and against my better judgment, I picked it up. “Hello.”

  “You stupid fuck. Are you kidding me with this shit?” Jonathan snapped.

  Smiling, I shifted up in the bed, propping my back on the headboard. He must have heard about my interest in the Sean Watkins arrest. This would be fun. “Good morning, cuz.”

  “Fuck you! You think you can put a tail on me and I wouldn’t notice? You have no idea who you’re dealing with here. I don’t give a shit if you’re family. I will put you in the ground before I let you jeopardize my career.”

  A tail? I hadn’t put a tail on him, and as far as I knew, Leo hadn’t, either. But I sure as shit wasn’t going to tell him that.

  “Okay, you want it gone? Talk to the prosecutor, tell them you fucked up, get the charges against Nora dropped.”

  He barked a laugh. “You’re delusional.”

  “Am I? Because, right now, I have evidence to support how you not only planted evidence, but also tampered with evidence, falsified a police report, and that doesn’t include the property damage and harassment. Sounds to me like I’m not the one jeopardizing your career. You’re doing a fine job of taking care of that all on your own.”

  “Call off your dogs!” he boomed.

  “Drop the charges against Nora!” I shot right back.

  “Oh, I’m gonna drop something on that bitch. Little throwback to when she liked it hard and rough. She give it to you like that, Camden? Is that why you’re all pussy-whipped, flying down here, and shoving your nose into shit you have no fucking clue about?”

  I sat straight up in bed, the hairs on my arms standing on end. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “You should try taking her to the old dugout. I’ve seen a few videos whe
re she comes alive like a fucking wildcat.”

  My stomach soured and bile clawed up the back of my throat. A thought so vile that I’d never even considered it scorched my neurons. “You kept Josh’s videos of her?”

  “You never know when shit like that might come in handy. Like, say, when your cousin is trying to ruin you over some bitch and those tapes anonymously find their way to the internet for the whole world to see.”

  I stood up and balled my fist at my side, a blistering rage igniting in my veins. “You son of a bitch. You wouldn’t fucking dare. Josh is on those tapes too. You’re not going to rake your precious little brother through the mud like that.”

  “You know, I’m not real worried about his reputation as long as it keeps me out of the grave next to him. Call off your dogs, get off my ass, go back to New York, and never show your face again. Or get ready for war. Your choice.”

  The line went dead and I stood there with the phone to my ear, trying to make sense of what the hell had just happened.

  He had the videos.

  He had a tail who was not mine, and therefore, I couldn’t call them off even if I wanted to.

  And, for some reason, he thought he might end up in a grave next to Josh.

  What the fuck was happening?

  There was only one person I could think of who might be able to piece this clusterfuck together.

  “Swear to God, this better be good,” Leo said when he answered the phone. “Boy, my eyes aren’t even open yet. What time is it?”

  “It about five your time, but I need help and I didn’t want to wait.”

  He let out a groan, which sounded more like he was climbing out of bed than frustrated. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

  I spent the next few minutes filling him in on my call with Jonathan. As I’d expected, the tail was not ours. Which meant Jonathan had far bigger problems than harassing the Stewarts. When I told him about the tapes of Nora, he appropriately lost his shit, spiraling into a tornado of curses and death threats that matched the fury bubbling inside me.