by Jill Shalvis
How well he knew. Growing up, she’d hidden in this very closet whenever she’d needed a moment from him and Winnie, which with hindsight he totally understood. They’d been a couple of wild, feral kids, and she’d been saddled with them. As they’d all gotten older, she’d continued to hide whenever she’d had a problem, especially if she’d gotten broken up with, something that tended to happen once a guy got to know her.
“You get dumped?” he asked.
In a move that proved she wasn’t that different from Winnie at all, she flipped him off and went back to munching and writing.
“So that’s a yes.” He leaned against the doorway.
“I don’t know if you know this,” she said in a frosty tone that he knew meant imminent death—his, “but alone time is when you’re, you know, alone.”
“I thought maybe it was more of a I-don’t-want-to-talk thing,” he said.
“That too. Definitely that.”
He nodded, but didn’t go away. “So who was it? You had some major sparks bouncing between you and what’s-his-name.”
“What’s-his-name who?”
“Rowan’s brother.”
She gave herself away by jerking her gaze back up to his.
“You with him or something?” he asked.
“Of course not. No. Nope. I just met him.”
“That’s a lot of denial. And you know what they say about double negatives, they cancel each other out.”
Piper pinched the bridge of her nose. Shorthand for Gavin was driving her nuts again. It was a short drive, and there’d been a time in their lives when he’d taken great pride in sending her on the trip. But he was too miserable at the moment to even be proud of himself. “Sometimes the amount of time you’ve known him doesn’t matter. Shit happens.”
“It matters to me.” Piper drew in a deep breath. “I don’t have time for a relationship.”
“Who’s talking about a relationship?”
She snorted. “One-night stands are more your thing.”
Touché. “Were my thing.” He tried to take a few cheese puffs, but Piper hugged the bag to her chest the way his grandma used to clutch her pearls. He considered wrestling them from her, but she could probably take him.
“Last time we had any sort of real conversation, you were seeing like five different guys,” Piper said.
“Like I said, things change. And don’t turn this on me. If you didn’t get dumped, what are you doing hiding in the closet, stuffing your face and writing”—he looked at her journal—“a list of why emotions suck.” She’d written three items so far:
They’re annoying.
They’re a waste of time.
They’re stupid.
“All true,” he acknowledged. “But that doesn’t tell me why you’re here. In the pantry. At midnight.”
“Go back to bed before you turn into a pumpkin.” She accompanied this with a go-away shooing gesture.
“And what about you? You won’t turn into a pumpkin?”
“I’d have to believe in fairy tales for that,” she said.
“Pretty cynical for thirty-one.”
She slid him a death glare. “Thirty. And I will kill you where you stand.”
He laughed, and it sounded rusty even to his own ears, but it felt good. “I missed you,” he heard himself say, startling the both of them.
She stared at him for a beat and then into the bag, like it held the secrets of life. “Funny way of showing it, staying away for so long.”
Two months of rehab. Six months of trying to make it stick. He’d hit a bit of a pothole in the making-amends portion of his recovery. Like the rest of his life, this part wasn’t going to be easy. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”
Worry was a groove between her brows. “You ever going to tell me what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, now that I’m home.” He paused. “Do you miss them, Piper?”
She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Mom and Dad? Of course. Always.”
“You don’t talk about them. You never talk about them.” And he needed to. Wanted to.
But she’d closed up on herself. “Of course I do.”
“Yeah? When was the last time?”
“On Mom’s birthday last month. I texted you that I’d put flowers on their graves and sent you a pic.”
Which wasn’t the same thing as talking about them, remembering them, keeping them alive in their minds, but Gavin knew better than to push Piper when she had that stubborn expression on her face.
“Are you homesick?” she asked. “Is that why you’re here?”
“Yes,” he said bluntly, wishing he could reach her, knowing he couldn’t.
“I missed you too, Gav. I did. But realistically, how long do you think the three of us can live together without bloodshed?”
He shrugged, knowing she was right and hating that. “It’ll be a crapshoot. Come on,” he said, suddenly exhausted. “At least go find somewhere more comfortable to be alone.”
She shrugged, and it gave him a chest pain, because he realized she honestly didn’t think she deserved to have even a few real moments to herself. She had to hide to get them. Until now, he hadn’t been exactly sure what had brought him home, but he thought maybe, just maybe, it hadn’t been a solely selfish undertaking to save himself. Maybe, he hoped, he could do some saving of his own.
Chapter 7
“Our history is water under the bridge. It’s gone, and I’m not into regrets.”
Piper’s next shift was a doozy. She and Jenna transported a violent drunk who’d walked through a glass door. He’d been opposed to the ride, in spite of the fact he’d been cut up pretty good, and Piper had gotten punched in the jaw for her efforts. Now her head hurt and she wanted food and a bed, but first she did as she usually did: she went to the marina to check on Emmitt.
And maybe also hoping for a glimpse of the last man she’d slept with. Even though all they’d done was kiss, it—and him—had been starring in her daydreams ever since. She was almost afraid to see him, afraid she’d turn back into the woman who’d thrown herself at him because of a lightning bolt. She had no idea who that woman had been. Not her. At least not the grown-up version of her.
She found both Emmitt and Cam outside the marina office, buried headfirst in the engine compartment of a boat.
They came up for air when they heard her footsteps, and her gaze landed on Cam. He looked at her right back, and she wondered if he even realized that she’d revealed a far-too-vulnerable side of herself to him that for the most part she’d managed to hide from the rest of the world.
Emmitt cleared his throat, sounding amused.
Piper shook her head to clear it and pointed at him. “You’re not supposed to be doing this sort of thing.”
“Because of the diabetes?” Cam asked with a frown.
Emmitt sighed. “No. Because of my leg. I’m not supposed to be on it for any length of time due to the neuropathy.”
“Jesus, Dad,” Cam said. “What if you fell into the lake? You could’ve drowned.”
Emmitt rolled his eyes and wiped his dirty hands on the bottom of his T-shirt, which, for the record, read: I MIGHT BE OLD, BUT I GOT TO SEE ALL THE COOL BANDS. “I was practically born in the water,” he said. “I could swim if I was dead.”
“Which could happen if you don’t start taking better care of yourself,” Cam said. He took what looked like a screw gun out of Emmitt’s hand. “I’ve got this, okay?”
“Come on, Emmitt, let me check you over,” Piper said.
Emmitt made a universally male sound that said she was a pain in his ass. “You know I love you, but damn, woman, you’re bossy as hell. Anyone ever tell you that?”
She couldn’t help but take a quick glance at Cam—who’d also made note of her bossiness. He was rubbing his jaw, fighting either a smile or a grimace of agreement.
“This boat’s gotta be fixed now,” Emmitt said. “The marina’s closed midweek until spring, but I need to get the equipment re
ady for this weekend. It’s going to be warm. People are gonna come out in droves.”
“I’ve got it,” Cam said.
Emmitt hesitated. “Uh . . .”
“What?”
“Remember that summer we were in North Carolina and you sank my canoe?”
“Of course I remember,” Cam said, his patience seeming a little strained. “We were on our one and only vacation together, before you and Mom split. I was a thirteen-year-old pain in your ass. Which you mentioned about a hundred times in the space of an hour. It was the last summer I ever got to spend with you.”
Emmitt’s face fell with genuine regret. “Camden—”
“No.” Cam held up his hand. “I got it. I was a handful, to say the least. But I grew up, Dad. And I can fix any boat. Hell, I could build one from scratch. Let me handle this for you.”
Emmitt was looking like he had big regrets and something to say, so Piper started to turn and walk off to give them some privacy, but Cam said, “It’s okay. Just check him over, I’ve got this.”
Emmitt shook his head. “You weren’t a handful, Camden. It was me. I was the handful. Your mom and I split, and she was adamant that I leave her alone to handle herself. I had Rowan, and I wasn’t all that great at just being me, much less trying to raise a baby, but those are excuses, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Cam tipped his head back and stared at the sky for a long beat before meeting his dad’s gaze. “Forget it, okay? It doesn’t matter. What matters now is your health. Let’s move on.”
“This first.” Emmitt took a step closer to him. “I wish I could go back in time.”
“It’s done. Why would you want to relive it?”
“So that I could try harder. I’d try to make it work with your mom so that we could’ve stayed a family. I’d do better by you, Cam. I would.”
“Dad . . .” There was no anger in Cam’s voice. No censure. “Our history is water under the bridge. It’s gone, and I’m not into regrets. I’m here now, and so are you.”
Emmitt slowly nodded his head. “And I’m glad for that.”
“Me too. So get your ass inside and let Piper do her thing.”
Emmitt turned to her and smiled. “He’s been here only a week and already found the best woman in town.” He paused and looked at Cam. “She’s a keeper, son. Remember that.”
“Uh, no, I’m not.” Piper shifted her weight uneasily. “A keeper.”
Both men looked at her. “Dad, could you give us a minute?”
“Sure,” Emmitt said. “Take your time.” He gave Cam a meaningful look. “And I mean that. Women like when you take your time.”
Cam’s grimace said he’d maybe finally found the end of his patience.
Emmitt held up a hand. “I know, who wants to take advice from your dad, right? But, son, I’ve been on Tinder for two years now, and trust me. I know these things.” He turned and headed up to the house, and Piper nearly laughed at Cam’s expression. The perpetually-in-control man had zero idea how to react to this.
“You think this is funny?” he asked. “Me coming face-to-face with my dad’s sex life?”
“I think it’s hysterical.”
He shook his head, but he smiled too. Reaching out, he took her heavy duffel bag from her shoulder and slung it over his. “So you really do come over once a day to check on him.”
“I try,” she said, prepared to feel a little defensive about that. “I missed yesterday because my shift went late.”
He squeezed her hand. “It means a lot, so thank you.” Gently, he cradled her jaw, his thumb skimming along the bruise she could feel forming.
“Don’t ask,” she said. “Rough transport earlier.”
Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to her temple, and then her forehead. “You okay?”
What she was, apparently, was a lover of forehead kisses . . . “Yes.”
He held her gaze with his.
“What?” she asked.
“I’m working on my inner caveman, who wants to come out and deal with whoever gave this to you. They’d never find his body.”
His easy expression had turned intense and determined, looking every inch the trained warrior she knew he was. “He’s been arrested.”
“Good.” He looked her over, eyes assessing her. “Any injuries I don’t see?”
He asked this lightly. Calmly, even. But there was an edge to him, and a visible set to his jaw.
“No,” she said. “I’m okay. Really.”
She got a nod, and he made a clear effort to shake off the tension. “If you were hurt, would you admit it?”
“Would you?” she countered.
That got her a wry smile. “Touché. Okay, how about this. We play doctor again, only this time I get to be all bossy and in charge.”
She laughed for the first time all day. Laughed and . . . felt a little frisson of arousal go through her at the thought of playing anything with this man. “Maybe some other time.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
They started walking up the hill toward the house.
“You doing okay with your brother and sister being back?” he asked.
She glanced at him, not expecting the personal interest in her life. Distractions weren’t supposed to do that. “Well, we haven’t killed each other yet, so . . .”
He smiled. “That’s good, right?”
“Yes.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am. I guess sometimes I expect the worst.”
“Hard way to live,” he said.
True, and she gave a slow nod. Maybe she should start a list of how to have a better attitude . . .
“Have you and your sister had a chance to talk? Catch up?”
“Win’s not big on talking, at least not with me.”
He started to speak, but then stopped to pull something from her hair. “Why are you wearing pieces of glass?”
“Probably from that last call. The guy who . . .” She gestured to her face. “He walked through a glass door first.”
His smile faded. “You get cut?”
“No, and considering the last time you saw me I was wearing mud, this has to be somewhat of an improvement.”
He gave a very small smile. “I liked the mud. You looked good in it.”
She rolled her eyes, but stilled when he brushed something off her shoulder, then her collarbone. “Why are you grooming me like a monkey?”
“Monkeys do it to show interest.”
She paused. “I’m . . . not a good bet, Cam.”
He locked his gaze on hers. “That just makes us even.”
Okay, so they were on the same page. She liked that. A lot.
“You’re staring at my mouth again,” he said. “Last time you did that, you kissed me.”
She felt her pulse spike and bit her lower lip.
He studied her. “Or maybe you want me to kiss you this time.”
She reached up and touched his mouth. His lips were somehow both soft and firm. And warm and—
His hand wrapped around her wrist, holding one of her fingers to his mouth so he could close his teeth over the tip. Sort of gently, sort of not. Sucking in a breath, she squirmed as heat bolted through her, and then went still when his tongue soothed the nip he’d just given her.
She actually shook with need. She wasn’t one to do this, to . . . yearn and ache, like maybe she’d pass out if he didn’t touch her. Mostly she rushed through her day for the simple pleasure of going to bed, which she did alone. Yes, she’d had relationships, even serious ones. But she had a problem with true intimacy that she could hide for only so long before she self-destructed and ruined the things that made her happy.
Ryland being her last example. The firefighter had told her he wanted more, he wanted her everything, and if she couldn’t give it to him, others would.
Apparently, that had been very true.
But this, a small voice inside her said, this isn’t like that. This, with Cam, wasn’t go
ing anywhere. It couldn’t, so there was no pressure to think about the future, no pressure to make a promise to love someone when she wasn’t even sure she could. There were no what-ifs. There was no chance of hurting anyone, or worse, getting hurt. Buoyed by that realization, she stepped into Cam and ran her free hand up his chest.
“That doesn’t feel like a no,” he murmured.
“It isn’t.”
He stared at her for a single breath, and then pulled her into him and kissed her, a succulent, sensuous, delicious kiss with a lot of tongue that had her instantly forgetting about the stress of her job, her siblings, her life. Everything.
When they’d run out of air, they pulled back and stared at each other. “Still scary,” she whispered.
“Yeah.” He was breathing no steadier than she was, which was reassuring. If he’d been as confident about this as he appeared to be in every other aspect of his life, she might’ve had to hurt him.
By mutual silent agreement, they entered Emmitt’s house through the back door and into the kitchen, where Piper checked his vitals.
“Looks good,” she said, amazed to find her voice still husky, her body still humming. “And I brought a surprise.”
“Tell me it’s food,” Emmitt said.
“It’s food.” She pulled out the stuff from her duffel bag that she’d gotten on the way home. “How does breakfast for dinner sound?”
“Perfect,” Emmitt said.
Cam came up to her side. “What can I do?”
She smiled at him. “Just stand there and look pretty.”
Emmitt took a look at Cam’s face and laughed his ass off.
“I’m not pretty,” Cam finally said, as if she’d insulted him.
“Have you looked in the mirror?” his dad asked.
“Have you?” Cam countered.
“Yeah, and I’m pretty as hell.”
Piper laughed, but it wasn’t just that they looked alike. Both held their bodies in a way that conveyed confidence and an easy athleticism. And those matching intense eyes that could seem cold when they were thinking, but warmed when amused.
And in Cam’s case, she happened to know they also went scorching hot when he was aroused . . .
They also had the same square jaw, both scruffy at the moment, and matching facial expressions, currently dialed to Hungry Males. She imagined her siblings would be wearing matching hungry expressions about now too, but she’d texted them both asking if she should bring dinner and neither had responded.
