by Jill Shalvis
Good point. Dammit. She eyed the boat, and then Cam again. The water was calmer than it’d been in days. But still . . .
His eyes softened. “I’ve got you, Piper.”
She sucked in a breath at the words that felt so . . . comforting. Why? What was it about him that gave her strength? She had no idea.
But getting on the water . . . Yes, she’d been onboard with him before, but that had been . . . different. For one thing, they hadn’t actually been moving; they’d been tied up to the dock. It had taken several mind tricks to allow herself to be okay, although once Cam’s hands and mouth and body had gotten on her, she’d forgotten they’d been on a boat at all.
But at the moment, she was in the middle of a pity party for one, thank you very much, and she wasn’t ready to be over it.
Ahead of her, Cam untied the boat with quick, practiced ease, and she took a moment to appreciate the way he moved because she wasn’t dead. But then, holding the rope in one hand, he held out his other for her.
She shook her head.
He was smart enough not to rush her. And she knew he’d never make her do anything she didn’t want to. Nope, his tactic was even worse.
He waited for her to come to him.
Welp, he was about to wait until hell froze over. She clutched her journal close and shook her head again.
“What if your future niece or nephew fears the water like you do. Wouldn’t you want to help them get past it?” he asked.
“Wow. You fight dirty.”
“I do a lot of things dirty.”
She felt a hot flash rush through her. “You’re trying to distract me.”
“Yes. Is it working?”
“No.”
“Piper, I’ve got you,” he repeated.
Said the spider to the fly.
With a huff of air, she walked toward him, stopping several feet from where he waited with what looked to be all the patience in the world. “Do you just command the bad guys to hand themselves over to you too?”
His lips twitched. “Yes, but it doesn’t usually take this long for them to do it.” He wriggled his fingers.
She stared at his hand. It was strong. Calloused. And, she knew from experience, all warm and extremely talented.
“Trust me.” He flashed a smile. “You know you want to.”
Hoping she wasn’t going to regret this, she put her hand in his.
He didn’t pull or in any way suggest that he wanted to direct her movements. He was being sweet and gentle. She met his gaze, half touched at his tolerance, half irritated as shit that she was feeling the urge to please him. “I really don’t want to board.”
“Because the last time you were on a boat was so . . . unenjoyable?”
She felt her face heat, but she lifted her chin and hoped he never got a peek at her latest journal entry where she’d listed the ways he’d melted her bones. In great detail. “It was . . . okay.”
He laughed, and the sight was so unusual and so amazing, she stared at him. Damn, he had a really great laugh.
“Just okay, huh?” he finally asked.
She forced a casual shrug. “It was . . . fine.”
He laughed again. And dammit, he was one hot son of a bitch. “I’m going to make you take that back,” he said, voice like sex on a stick.
So much for sweet and gentle.
He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “I’ve got you,” he repeated softly.
Yeah, he kept saying that. And she wanted to believe him, but she was short on trust at the best of times, which this most definitely was not. “Are we going to leave the cove?”
“Only if you want to, but I suggest yes.”
She bit her lower lip.
“Piper.” His voice was terrifyingly kind. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I’ve got life vests. I’ve pulled one out for you. See?” He lifted one for her perusal. “You can wear it the whole time.”
She gave a jerky nod. “Thanks. But that feels . . . lame.”
“It’s not lame. Not even a little bit.”
“I seriously don’t think I even remember how to swim.”
“You’re not going into the water,” he said.
“You don’t know that. A catastrophe could happen.”
“Such as?”
“A big storm could hit and capsize us,” she said, eyeing the cloudless sky.
“Been there, done that, wrote the training manual on how to keep everyone alive,” he said very seriously.
She stared at him. “I’m not sure if you’re kidding or not.”
“Kidding about the manual, not kidding about keeping people alive.”
“You’ve saved someone from drowning before?”
“Seen a guy do it once or twice.”
She realized how dumb her question had been. “You probably have a lot of stories to tell.”
Instead of answering, he jumped onboard—without letting go of her hand, she noted. Apparently he recognized a flight risk when he saw one. Turning back, he waited for her to join him.
“Can you tell me any of your stories?” she asked.
He looked surprised by her interest. “I can’t give specifics, but there was one time when my unit saved a hundred-plus people who were stranded in cold, frigid waters, and no one had a door to cling to.”
She blinked. “Did you just make a Titanic reference?”
“Yes.”
“There was room for two people on that door, Cam.”
He smiled. “We got everyone back on shore safe and accounted for. Didn’t leave a soul out there, door or not. Does that help?”
“How many times have you done something like that?”
He shrugged.
“So, like, more than . . . ten?”
“Yes.”
“How many more?”
“Too many to count,” he said, still with the laid-back voice, no sense of growing impatience. And she realized he wasn’t putting on an act. This was him: calm, stoic, steady as a rock. Period. He wouldn’t fail her, he wouldn’t abandon her, and he wouldn’t turn his back on her.
“Any more concerns I can help you with?” he asked. “Or can we . . . ?” He gestured to the boat.
“What if you have to make a sharp turn and I fall out? I wasn’t kidding. I’m not a good swimmer.”
To his credit, he didn’t even smile. He just held eye contact and very seriously said, “Luckily for you, I am. I’m good enough for the both of us.”
Right. Okay, then. With no other reason to stall, she tightened her grip on his hand and jumped onboard, gasping as the boat rocked beneath her feet. Cam immediately wrapped her up in a flotation vest and bent his head to give the buckles his full attention.
“In case I’m somehow incapacitated,” he said with a smile.
“Are you laughing at me?”
“I’m taking care of you.”
Something else no one had ever said to her.
Then he pulled her up against him and kissed her. He kissed her until she didn’t remember she was terrified, or that her siblings were driving her crazy. Hell, she didn’t remember her own name and she didn’t care.
He pulled back. “You okay?”
Huh. She actually was. “I think so.”
“You look surprised.”
“It was the kiss. Too bad you can’t bottle them up.”
He laughed and turned to the controls. She stood at his side, and when he hit the throttle, she gasped and clutched at what she had to assume was an Oh, Shit bar.
“Aren’t we going over the speed limit?” she called out. “Maybe you should slow down.”
“We’re going five miles per hour.”
“Oh.” She didn’t realize she was gripping the bar so tightly that her knuckles were white until he reached out and covered her hand with his.
“Loosen up, Piper, or you’ll have sore muscles from clenching so tight.”
He hadn’t meant it as a command, she knew this, but it still made her laugh. “Aye
, aye, Captain, my Captain. Whatever you say.”
His gaze swiveled briefly to hers. “Feel free to repeat that for the rest of the day.”
She couldn’t help herself—she laughed. How could a man be so kind and gentle, and yet utterly commanding and impossibly confident at the same time? “Sure,” she said. “But then tomorrow’s my turn.”
Never one to back down from a challenge, he flashed her a sexy grin. “You’re on.”
Oh, boy . . .
They had the lake to themselves. Water sprayed up and hit the windshield in front of them. The wind went over the windshield and brushed her face, blew back her hair, and she braced to hate it, but . . . hold up. She didn’t hate it. In fact, it was kind of a thrill. So much so that she found herself grinning from ear to ear.
Cam caught sight of it, and she expected him to grin right back at her. Instead he went quite serious, reaching out to touch her jaw, his thumb rasping over her bottom lip. “Making you smile like that is the highlight of my day. Hell, my year.”
Her stomach clenched. Or maybe that was her heart. “Same,” she said, so softly she was certain he couldn’t have heard it over the roar of the engine or the wind.
But he smiled as if he’d read her lips, and it made her forget herself for a moment. The wind was in his hair too, and he wore mirrored sunglasses that were sexy as hell. So was his stubble, as was the way the gusts had his clothes plastered to him, showing off that leanly muscled physique to mouthwatering perfection.
When he caught her staring, his smile turned a little hot and a whole lot wicked.
A few minutes later, he turned into a deserted cove on the unpopulated north shore and slowed way down.
“I love it here,” she said. “I don’t often walk this far out to see it, though.” She looked at him. “Thanks for doing this, for taking me out of my own head. I had no idea what I needed. How do you always just know?”
He laughed. “I don’t. When it comes to you, I’m always off balance and guessing, hedging my bets.” Coming close, he ducked his head to see right into her eyes. “But I like doing things for you. You always get this sort of surprised expression, like you never expect anyone to go out of their way for you, or make you feel special.”
She’d never let her thoughts go down that path, but that he had was incredibly . . . well, incredible.
By the time he shut the engine down and moored them, she was ready to jump him. When he took her hand, she stepped eagerly into him. Had she said she wasn’t in the mood? She’d been wrong. “Yes.”
He smiled. He knew. “Hold that thought.” He led her to the front of the boat, but instead of jumping down to the beach, he settled them on the top deck, lying back to stare up at a serene blue sky that stretched as far as the eye could see.
“What do you think that cloud looks like?” he asked, with a jut of his chin toward the sky, hands cradling his head, his long legs stretched out, boots crossed. “I think it looks like a pizza.”
When she didn’t answer, he turned his head and looked at her. “You okay? Do you need to get off the boat?”
“No, I’m okay.” A surprise all on its own. “I’m just”—she had to let out a low laugh—“still processing the fact that I was going to make a move on you and you shut me down.”
He came up on his side and curled an arm around her, tugging her into him. “I didn’t shut you down. For the record, I’d never shut you down.”
“Because you’re a guy?”
He smiled. “Because I’m never going to not want you.”
At that declaration, she felt herself still.
“Okay, don’t read too much into that,” he said, his smile fading at whatever he saw on her face. “I just mean that you’ve got to know I’m extremely attracted to you. Emotionally attached as well. So you don’t need to ever wonder if I want you. I do.” He braced himself over her and kissed her. Soft. Sweet. And then not so sweet, before pulling back. “I just didn’t want you to think I was a sex fiend.”
“But you are, right?” she asked hopefully.
He let out a low laugh. “Well, yeah. But I thought we’d . . . talk.”
“Talk.”
“Yes. It’s a thing, you know,” he said, looking adorably uncertain for the first time ever. “Women like to talk, right?”
She laughed. “Yes, unfortunately. Are you telling me you’re the one man on the planet who actually likes to listen?”
“Well, I like to listen to you,” he said.
That flowed through her, making her feel wanted, cherished, and special. Not quite sure what to do with those emotions, she stared up at the sky. “Definitely looks like pizza,” she said. “A pepperoni pizza with peppers on it, because peppers are a veggie and that makes the pizza healthy.”
He laughed, and God, she loved making him laugh.
“I haven’t done it very much lately,” he said, making her realize she’d spoken out loud. “Not until I came here and met you.” He shook his head. “There’s not been a lot to laugh about.”
Her heart rolled over and exposed its tender underbelly. “You miss Rowan.”
“Yeah.”
She set her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
He pressed his jaw to her hair. “We were still pretty new to the sibling thing, since he was always so much younger than me.” He turned his head to hers. “You didn’t like him.”
She stilled. “Winnie tell you that?”
“No. Just a feeling.”
“Actually,” she said, “I liked him a lot. He was kind and sweet, and was good for your dad, kept him on the straight and narrow. He was Winnie’s BFF. After she left for college, he’d go down to see her sometimes. They didn’t tell me much because they knew I didn’t like how hard they partied. But he was a good guy.”
“But . . . ?”
She met his gaze and knew honesty was the only way to go here. “But . . . I felt he had a lot of growing up to do.”
“He wasn’t a good influence on Winnie.”
She gave a slow shake of her head. “No. But for what it’s worth, I think he was changing. I think he was growing up, and I hate that he’ll never have the chance to become whoever he was meant to be.” She swallowed hard at the look of grief on Cam’s face.
He turned to stare up at the sky.
She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back, but other than that, he didn’t move, didn’t talk for a long moment. When he finally spoke, he did so without opening his eyes, voice low and gruff, filled with emotion.
“You know we didn’t spend a lot of time together, that he was too young for me to really connect with given that there was thousands of miles between us. But in the last few years, we got better at it. We called, texted, and there were a few visits here and there.” He paused. “I left my mom’s when I was sixteen, did I ever tell you that? I did the whole ‘angry at the world’ thing for a while.”
“Where did you go?” she asked, because she knew it hadn’t been here, to his dad’s.
“I stayed with friends,” he said. “I could’ve come here, my dad wanted me to, but I was still pissed off at him for abandoning my mom. It wasn’t until later that I realized it wasn’t like that, that he’d legitimately tried, but she was way worse when he came around. I think it was guilt over not being able to raise Rowan. She . . . she wasn’t well. She got a late-in-life diagnosis of being bipolar, and she preferred to self-medicate with alcohol rather than take her meds. She tried rehab a bunch of times, but it never took. Eventually, she went to live in a halfway house, and stayed there until she died.”
“You were already in the military.”
“Yes.”
Piper had spent a lot of years thinking no one really understood what she’d been up against when her parents had died. But now she knew Cam understood, that he got it in a way she wished he didn’t have to. “I can’t imagine how hard it was for you, growing up like that.”
He shrugged. “She did the best she could. Same with Rowan. And I was st
ill way too hard on him.” He shook his head, eyes tortured. “And now he’s gone, and the last thing I said to him was in anger.”
Her throat tightened at the emotion in his voice. “I’m so sorry, Cam. What happened?”
He let out a long breath. “We fought about his future. It’s hard to forgive myself for that, that his last memory was of me being mad at him.”
“He wouldn’t want you to be holding on to that. You know he never held on to anything negative. That wasn’t his way.”
When he didn’t look at her, she gently turned his face to hers.
“I hear you,” he said. “But it’s hard.”
“I know.”
He met her gaze. “You too?”
“Oh, yeah.” She gave him a grim smile. “When my parents sent us home, I was furious. Even though they’d promised to follow us and arrive as soon as they could, I didn’t understand.” She drew a deep breath because it was always hard to think about, the memories of how awful she’d been. “I just saw it as they were dumping us because we were too much trouble. I told them they were terrible parents who were tired of lugging their children around, so they were sending us away to be selfish.” She let out a long, shaky breath. “They died before I got to talk to them again, to tell them I loved them. That I was sorry.”
“They knew,” he said firmly.
She gave him a small smile. “Because you want it to be true for me?”
“Because you’re an amazing person and they knew that, or they’d never have trusted you with Winnie and Gavin.”
She’d never looked at it that way, but it did soothe something deep inside her. They had trusted her. And now . . . now Gavin was in recovery and Winnie was pregnant at twenty. Yeah, she’d done a bang-up job.
“None of that’s on you,” he murmured, and squeezed her hand again.
Maybe not. But it was going to change her world, in a big way. Because the Mannings were a unit, like it or not.
They remained silent for a long few minutes, no sound except the water lapping at the boat, the squawk of birds, and the occasional buzzing of an insect.
“You’re going to be okay leaving this place that you love?” he asked. “For Colorado?”
She looked around at the gorgeous, lush green rolling hills edging the lake, dotted with ancient oaks and the occasional lost cow from neighboring ranches. “Living here isn’t exactly a hardship. And I love my job. I love helping people. But it’s . . . immediate, so there’s no closure. I want to do more.”
