Tempting Cameron

chapter Twelve


The job offer came five days later, after Cam put some feelers out. An assignment for a national news magazine accompanying a reporter interviewing young war veterans, it would be a compelling piece that had the potential for award nominations and plenty of accolades from within the industry and the general public, his agent had told him excitedly.

He’d accepted it without hesitation. Was flying out to New York the next day in preparation before he went on assignment, which meant he had to get to Sacramento at the butt crack of dawn to catch his flight. Mindy volunteered to take him.

Jane and Mac weren’t really talking to him, which was fine. He didn’t need Jane’s guilt trips, since she was still angry and he’d already apologized to Mac, who accepted it stiffly. He was clearly still mad, too. He’d taken Chloe’s side. Cam knew this because he’d driven by her house yesterday and saw Mac’s car parked in front of it.

The urge to bust into her house and break up whatever little emotional pow-wow they were having had nearly overwhelmed him. But he drove on, pissed that he tortured himself so easily. The jealousy still lingered, thick and black, darkening his mood until he snapped at everyone who came near him.

His mother had tried to talk to him about the accident in Afghanistan, about Chloe, about everything that had happened to him the last five years of his life and he’d finally told her to back off. So now his mom was mad at him, too.

Great.

The only people not angry at him were Mindy, his dad, and the checker at Hillside Market who had openly flirted with him when he’d gone in earlier that afternoon to buy a frozen pizza for dinner. She’d asked if he had anyone to share it with.

He’d had no answer, stunned she’d said such a thing. He, the king of flirtation, the master manipulator of women, had walked out of the store with his tail tucked between his legs.

He needed to get out of this town and quick.

Someone rang the doorbell and he went to answer it, warily peeking through the peephole to see his older sister standing on his doorstep, sans kids. He opened the door, saw that she held a plastic bag stacked with takeout containers inside. “Where are the monsters?” he asked, referring to her two sons.

“With their dad and his bimbo.” Mindy’s lips thinned. “He’s taking them to Santa Cruz for a few days. He’ll spend a ton of money on them and they’ll come home with stomachaches from too much junk food and expectations I can’t meet.”

“Sounds great.” Marty, her soon-to-be ex, was a complete a*shole. Cam opened the door wider and she walked in, the scent that wafted from the containers making his stomach grumble. “Whatcha got there?”

“Chinese. Figured you could use a real meal before you leave us for good.” She went to the kitchen, set the bag on the counter.

“I was going to have a frozen pizza for dinner.” He shut the door and started for the kitchen. “And a real meal would’ve been one you cooked for me.”

“Ha. I cook for no one at the moment, not even my kids.” She paused. “And I heard all about the pizza.”

He stilled. “How the hell did you hear about that?”

“I went in to Hillside before I came here and bought some beer. Said I was going to your place and Debi mentioned you were having frozen pizza for dinner. I think she likes you.”

He wondered how many people Debi the checker told about his pitiful dinner for one. “Well, I don’t like her. And where’s this beer you speak of?”

“Oops. Still in my car. Would you be a sweetie and go get it for us?” She batted her eyelashes at him.

He went and grabbed the beer, which sat on the passenger side floorboard of her ten-year-old minivan. A minivan that was an absolute disaster, he realized as he looked around. It looked like she hadn’t cleaned it in more than a year. If he wasn’t leaving tomorrow, he’d clean it out himself.

“Your car is disgusting,” he said as he walked back into the kitchen, the beer clutched in his hand.

“Thanks,” she said sweetly. “Blame my monsters.”

“You can’t make those monsters clean up after themselves?”

Tucking a few wayward strands of hair behind her ear, she glared at him. “My dirty car is the least of my concerns. I would think you of all people would understand that.”

Point noted. “Sorry. I’m in a bad mood.”

“Cameron, you were born in a bad mood.” She pulled the containers out of the bag and popped all the lids open. “Get some plates, will you?”

He grabbed the last of the paper plates that sat on top of the fridge and tossed them to her. They served themselves, both of them piling it on, each grabbing a beer before they sat at the kitchen table and started eating in companionable silence.

At this moment he was thankful for Mindy and her nonjudgmental acceptance. He’d beat himself up enough over what he’d done to Chloe. And instead of sticking around and trying to make it right with her, he was running.

As per his usual operating mode.

“I guess you were hungry,” Mindy said pointedly after he consumed his plate in record time and went back for another serving.

“I haven’t eaten much these last couple of days.”

“Gee, I wonder why.” The sarcasm in her voice was beyond evident.

He went back to the table and sat, his gaze meeting hers. “You think I’m a chicken shit for leaving, don’t you?”

She shrugged. “I’m not going to judge you. I don’t know exactly what happened between you and Chloe, but if you feel like you have to leave, then you need to leave.”

He stared at his overloaded plate, all of a sudden not hungry anymore. Hearing her name had a way of zapping his appetite, ruining his mood. “She hates me.”

“I think she loves you. That’s why she’s so mad,” Mindy said quietly. “The two emotions run relatively close to each other, you know.”

He stared at his big sister, feeling like a world-class jerk. “I know she loves me. She told me so.”

Mindy sighed. “And what did you tell her?”

“When she first said it, I didn’t tell her anything. But she wasn’t expecting an answer, either.” He remembered the look on her face, the tear that had slipped down her cheek when she told him. How he kissed her, made love to her after that admission. In that one single moment, he’d felt so close to Chloe. As if they understood each other, as if she really got him. He’d never felt like that before. “Hearing those words from her was like a punch in the gut. I didn’t know what to say.”

“Oh, Cam.” The look his sister gave him said it all. She thought he was an idiot.

“I did finally tell her, though,” he admitted.

“Tell her what? That you love her?” Mindy looked incredulous.

He nodded, pushed the plate away. “Right after we fought. When she accused me of spending all summer with her out of guilt. Just before I walked out the door, I told her I loved her.”

“Then why are you leaving? Why aren’t you fighting for her?”

He’d pondered that very thing the last two sleepless nights he’d suffered through and still didn’t have a good enough answer. “She doesn’t want to hear what I have to say.”

“Have you tried talking to her?”

“You didn’t see her, Mind. She was so cold, so void of emotion. It was like talking to a brick wall.”

“Sounds familiar,” Mindy muttered.

“What? Are you referring to me?”

“Um, yeah.” She shook her head. “You’re not known for showing much emotion. It can drive a person crazy sometimes.”

So he’d received a dose of his own medicine. Great. “There’s no point in staying here. I don’t deserve her anyway.”

Mindy slapped her hand on the edge of the table, startling him out of his own misery. “I am so sick of hearing you say that. Why are you constantly putting yourself down? Why do you hate this town and your family so much that you can barely stand the thought of being here?”

“I don’t hate you.” He stared at her, surprised by his sister’s outburst. She looked furious. “It’s not about you guys. It’s me.”

“What about you? Why are you always running? Why can’t you let down your guard and relax for once in your life? What the hell happened to you? We were raised in the same house but you sure love to act like you’re the long-suffering brother while the rest of us had idyllic childhoods.”

“That’s not true—” he started but she cut him off with a glare.

“It is so true. Always woe is me, poor me. It’s bullshit, Cam.” She forked up a piece of sweet and sour chicken and pointed it at him. “You need to grow up.”

“Grow up?”

“Yes, grow up. You act like a spoiled, miserable teenager who can’t get his way. It’s pure crap. That you finally find a woman who not only tolerates your issues but got you to get over them—and she’s a pretty amazing woman, I must say, sweet as pie and she has to be feisty as hell to put up with you—and you’re walking away from her.”

“I thought you weren’t going to judge,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“I’m not judging. I’m calling it as I see it.” She set the fork on her plate. “Life isn’t perfect. I know you always seemed to think it should be, but guess what? It’s messy and ugly and mean. You just have to make the best of it and find the good where you can.”

“I never thought life had to be perfect.”

She rolled her eyes. “Give me a break. Becoming a photographer is all about trying to control how you see life unfold around you. Or your interpretation of life.”

“I’m not trying to control anything.” He sounded defensive even to his own ears.

“Please. You’ve always tried to control everything. That’s why you close yourself off. If you don’t let anyone in, then we can’t screw you up, right? On the other side, you can’t screw up if you’re alone so in your mind, it’s the perfect solution. You can go on living and be what you think is the best you can be, but really you’re just a shell of a person.”

He rubbed at his chest, her harsh words stinging. “Thanks a lot.”

“You can be such a bone head.” Reaching across the table, she grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m trying to tell you that being with Chloe brought you back. Brought out the real you again. There’s nothing wrong with being vulnerable and letting someone see who you are, scars and all.”

Mindy was right. He knew it, had essentially thought the same thing. Being with Chloe, he felt like his true self.

Being with Chloe was real.

“You should tell her you’re leaving,” Mindy said softly, breaking through his thoughts.

“I don’t know.” He stared at the beer bottle in front of him, his stomach turning at the thought of facing Chloe again. Of seeing all the hatred and disappointment in her gaze, the possibility of hearing her sweet voice asking him to go and not giving him a chance to explain.

He didn’t think he could face it.

“She’ll hate you more if you leave and never say a word. You should at least try.”

Cam sighed. “When did you get so wise?” She’d always been wise. He’d just been remiss in telling her.

“Trust me, it took a while.” She drained her beer and stood. “Want another one?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I should be sober when I see Chloe.”

A little smile curled her lips. “I’m proud of you, Cameron.”

“Let’s see if you’re still proud of me after I try and talk to her.”

…

Chloe had great friends. She knew she did and she loved them for all the support and guidance they gave her, especially the last few days, which had been particularly rough.

But she couldn’t shake them no matter how much she tried and she really, really needed some time alone.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come over?” Jane asked, concern heavy in her voice.

“I’m fine. Really. Mac came by earlier.” And she’d shoved him out of her house, too, though he’d tried to dig his heels in, literally and figuratively. Having him around now made her think of Cameron. Though they were very different, there were similarities. They were brothers, after all. And it was painful to see that reminder.

So she pushed him out. Told Ali she wasn’t in the mood for another movie and ice cream sleepover when she so kindly offered earlier in the afternoon and now she was refusing Jane’s offer, too.

“Why don’t you come over here? The kids are being silly; Chris is putting up a tent outside so they can pretend they’re camping.”

“Sounds like the perfect night for you two to get some alone time.”

“Please. Those kids will be running in and out of the house all night. Besides, we already have a plan in place to scare them. After Chris tells them a bunch of ghost stories.” Jane laughed.

Chloe tried to laugh, too, but it sounded forced, so she gave up. “I’m sure it’ll be fun, but I’m going to pass. Thank you, though.”

“Oh, Chloe.” Jane sighed. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“No, not really, but that’s okay. I’ll get through this.” Chloe took a deep breath. “I’ll be fine. I just need to be alone tonight.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, then. Ali said you two are going for a walk. Maybe I can tag along,” Jane suggested.

“That would be great. Definitely call me.”

Chloe plugged her phone in to charge and went to her bedroom, pushing the window open. A breeze blew in, cool and refreshing, straight off the lake, and she breathed deeply, taking in the scent of pine. It was a glorious night, the twilight sky streaked with purple and velvet. It was a night for romance.

And she was alone.

She sat on the edge of her bed, staring unseeingly at the clock on her bedside table. She missed him. So much it hurt. The numbness was long gone, replaced with a void in the center of her heart so vast, she felt it like a big, gaping wound. Would she ever heal or would she always miss him? Need him?

Love him?

Stretching across the bed, she grabbed the pillow he’d used when he’d been in her bed and she clutched it close, breathing him in. This one little piece of him she still had. His scent lingering on her pillow, the memory of him in her bed as he watched her get dressed with that wicked smile, trying his best to convince her not to leave.

She should’ve listened to him. She should’ve never left.

Closing her eyes, she fought the tears that wanted to come. She was so tired of crying, of being sad, of missing him. It was as if a part of her was gone. Amazing how a silly teenage crush had turned into so much more.

A soft knock sounded on her front door, startling her, and she sat up, tossed the pillow back into place. Glancing at the clock, she saw that at least fifteen minutes had passed since she last looked at it. She must’ve fallen asleep.

Running a hand over her hair, she checked herself in the mirror over her dresser. She looked a mess. No makeup, her hair in a haphazard ponytail, ratty old sleep shorts on and wearing her favorite tank top, the one Cam had taken one glance at her in and nearly lost it.

Yeah, she looked just great.

Another knock sounded and she grabbed an old gray zip up hoodie, throwing it on over her tank so she wouldn’t flash nipple shots at whoever was waiting on the other side of the door. Probably Ali, who couldn’t stand the thought of her being alone or worse, it might be Mac, who felt some sort of weird responsibility to make sure she was okay.

“I can’t shake any of you, can I?” she asked as she threw open the door.

But it wasn’t Alison or Mac standing on her doorstep.

It was Cameron.

“Hey.” That sexy, smoky voice made her stomach flip. His intense green gaze met hers, all the worry and apprehension clouding his eyes making her feel oddly reassured. “Were you expecting someone?”

She shook her head, her voice abandoning her. He looked so good. Haggard and worried, his golden brown hair was a tousled mess. Dark circles under his eyes, as if he’d gone without sleep, too, and he still hadn’t shaved, which meant he practically had a full-on beard covering his face.

It was still a beautiful face.

He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Do you have a minute?”

Nodding, she tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. She’d imagined this moment again and again, wondering if it would ever happen. She’d gone through all the emotions. Anger, sadness, elation, frustration, curiosity as to which one she would feel the next time she saw him.

She hadn’t expected the pure, unadulterated joy flowing through her veins at finding him on her doorstep.

A funny little smile appeared. “Can I come in?”

Opening the door wider for him, she let him walk in and she closed her eyes, his scent washing over her, making her knees weaken. She shut the door and leaned against it, watching as he walked into the center of her living room, slowly turning around to face her.

“Did you lose your voice? Or are you still so mad at me you can’t even speak?”

“I’m—I’m not mad.” It startled her that he cut right to the chase. Rather unlike the Cameron she knew and had grown used to. “I just don’t understand why you had to hide that from me, Cam. That’s what hurts the most.”

His gaze dimmed and he hung his head. “I was going to tell you, I swear it. That night, I warred with myself. I was drunk, mad, and so totally gone for you. I knew I needed to come clean but then everything else happened and we…well. I got too caught up in you.”

His words cracked her heart right open. God, she missed him. “We’ve both made mistakes.”

“Yeah. Mine bigger than yours.”

“No less hurtful, though.” He lifted his head, his gaze meeting hers as she continued. “We need to be honest with each other.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I am so damn sorry I kept the truth from you. Sorry I said those horrible things in the first place. I never meant to hurt you.”

“I never meant to hurt you, either, Cam,” she confessed softly. “So I guess we’re even.”

“Is that what this is, then? We’ve hurt each other, we’ve apologized, and now we’re through?” He sounded irritated.

She stiffened her spine, confusion swirling within her. What did he want from her? “If you came here to fight, I’m not in the mood.” She started toward the kitchen, desperate for a glass of water to ease her suddenly parched throat.

He grabbed her by the crook of her arm as she tried to pass. “I didn’t come here to fight.”

His touch burned into her skin and she extracted herself from his grip shakily. “Then why are you here, Cameron?” She expected some sort of bogus answer.

“I wanted to see you.” His gaze roved over her face, as if memorizing her features. “I missed you.”

His straightforward honesty threw her. She didn’t know how to reply, too afraid to admit the truth that she missed him as well. “I’m thirsty,” she blurted, felt her cheeks heat. “Want a glass of water?”

“Yeah, sure.”

He followed her into the kitchen, his nearness distracting. So tall, so broad, he seemed to fill her entire kitchen. She went to the cupboard to grab two glasses, trying her best to remain calm. Appear unruffled.

She filled the glasses with ice and water from the refrigerator, then passed him one. Her hand shook, the ice rattling, and he took it from her, his fingers sliding over hers.

“Thanks.” He set the glass on the counter behind him, didn’t even bother to drink it, and took her hand in both of his, his thumbs slowly stroking her skin. “I’m making you nervous.”

Chloe nodded, drained half her glass before setting it on the counter beside his. “I—I don’t know what to say to you.”

The pained expression on his face matched the pain in her heart. “I hate that you feel this way.” He paused, squeezing her hand. “I’d say I’m sorry again but I think we’re past that. And it feels…trite.”

She remained silent, savoring the sensation of his rough hands touching her, his calloused fingers sliding over hers.

“You need to know that I wasn’t faking it,” he said, his voice quiet, calm. Soothing her frazzled nerves. “Spending time with you changed me, Chloe.”

Nodding, she pressed her lips together, could feel her chin trembling. She refused to lose it in front of him.

“I’m going back to work,” he continued. He entwined her fingers with his and held her hand. “I leave tomorrow.”

Dread sunk her heart to her toes. He was leaving. She knew he would but so soon? Did this have to do with what happened between them? “Where are you going?”

“New York. I start a new assignment next week.”

“It’s—it’s not overseas, is it?” The idea of him going back to Afghanistan—or somewhere even more dangerous—nearly sent her reeling. What if he never came back?

What if she lost him forever?

He shook his head. “I’m never going there again. Though the assignment is war-related, a piece for a national magazine. I’m traveling with a reporter and we’ll be visiting veterans all over the country. The article will focus on the impact of war on these soldiers, most of them young, in their early twenties. I’ll photograph them, candid shots and portraits, capture snippets of their life. That sort of thing.”

Relief made her smile. “I’m sure it’ll be amazing.”

He returned the smile, his fingers tightening around hers. “I hope so. I’m excited.”

She believed him. Since he’d come home, he rarely talked about photography, his job, any of it. It had once been his passion and it seemed to have died when he had his accident. Maybe even before that, he’d lost the joy.

How she hoped he’d gain some of that back.

“I’m happy for you.” And she was. Even if it meant losing him…not that she ever really had him anyway. “Your new assignment sounds great. Very healing.”

“Yeah.” He tugged on her hand, bringing her a little closer.

Making her heart beat a little faster.

“Healing for you,” she added.

“I guess so.” His expression became thoughtful and he gave her a lopsided smile.

She smiled in return, didn’t say anything. Didn’t think anything more needed to be said. Decided to bask in his presence instead. Sometimes, words got in the way, especially between them.

Cam slowly shook his head, his smile growing. “I swear, you know me better than anyone else. Sometimes I think you know me better than I know myself.”

“I spent a lot of years observing you,” she said wryly.

“And I spent a lot of years ignoring you.”

Her smile faded. “Cam…”

“It’s true. I have a lot of time to make up for.” He gently pulled her in and she went without hesitation. Until she stood so close to him, she could feel his body heat, his denim-covered thigh brushing between her bare legs. “I’ve wasted a lot of years searching when you were right here all along.”

She swallowed hard, tried to get past the lump in her throat, but it was so hard. What he said gave her so much hope. Too much. “How long will you be gone?”

“Two weeks.” His thumb drifted across her knuckles, sending all rational thought scattering. All she could focus on was him, how he touched her, how he looked at her.

Like she was the most precious wonder in his world.

“Will you come back?” She held her breath the second she asked the question, scared to hear his answer.

He paused, his gaze locking with hers. “Do you want me to come back?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want, Cam,” she murmured. “What do you want?” She refused to ask him to return to her.

Cameron needed to come to that conclusion on his own.

“I want to come back to you, Chloe.” He touched her face with his free hand, cupping her cheek. “If you’ll have me.”