Cameron (Wild Men Book 7)

by Melissa Belle

  As I look up at the building in front of us, I officially fall further into lust, or like, or love, with Cam. I don’t understand my feelings for him—I just know I’m crushing on him hard.

  Because the place he has picked out for breakfast is called—

  “Beignets?” I squeal like a little girl.

  His eyes light up. “That’s why I’ve been bugging you to come here with me.”

  “But the coffee shop in Climax has beignets.”

  “This place, though—it’s hardcore.” He holds the door open for me, and as we step inside the shop, he points at the menu on the wall.

  The beignets are hand-made, and there are so many varieties that my head is spinning.

  “Salted caramel,” I read aloud. “Pumpkin pie and raspberry.” I turn to Cam, my smile huge. “I want to try all of them.”

  “You’ll get sick if you eat them all,” he says. “But I was prepared for you to say that. So I came up with a plan.”

  An hour later, we leave the café with full stomachs and a gigantic sampler box—one of each type of beignet to bring home.

  “This is literally the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” I say to Cam as we walk back to the truck. “Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He leans closer to me, so close I think he’s going to kiss me. I stop breathing. I stop moving. I go completely stock-still.

  His brow furrows and he steps back.

  “It’s okay,” he says in a gentle tone. “I won’t hurt you.”

  I know he won’t. But I can’t stop freaking out every time he gets close. And I don’t know how to explain that without sounding like I’m too screwed up for him to want to waste his time with me.

  I reach for his arm, and he tucks my hand inside his coat pocket as we keep walking.

  “This place reminds me of the town my cousins grew up in,” he says, gesturing to the small shops along Main Street.

  “In Montana?”

  “Yeah. Except for the mountains, of course.”

  “I’ve always wanted to go there,” I say.

  “Really? You never mentioned that before.”

  That’s because it feels like a pipe dream. I change the subject. “I think we should come here again when the ice has melted a little. It could be our place outside of Climax.”

  That last part just slips out.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  I try to think of a way to rephrase.

  But Cam’s dimple flashes. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  We reach his truck, and he opens the door for me and then walks over to the driver’s side.

  “And about what you asked me back in the hotel room…” he says as soon as he’s inside.

  “Forget about it,” I say quickly as I reach for my purse and pretend to look for something—anything—in it. “You apologized for startling me last night. Well, I didn’t mean to startle you. So, touché I guess.” I laugh.

  I turn away from him to stare out the window, but suddenly a large hand snags my wrist. Cam gently tugs until I’m facing him again.

  “Do you really want that?” he asks me, his expression serious. “For me to be your first?”

  “Of course,” I say. “I wouldn’t ask anybody else.”

  Silence hits the truck, and Cam swallows so hard I can see his throat move. And it’s so damn sexy. Everything about Cam is ridiculously sexy.

  “Why me?” he finally says, shifting so he’s inches away from me.

  I feel like my face must be the color of an actual tomato, but he deserves an honest answer, so I do my best to give it to him.

  “Because I trust you,” I say. “You’re a good person, and you’re kind and genuine. Plus, you’re the only man I’ve ever been attracted to. Like really attracted to, enough for me to…”

  His eyes darken. “For you to go to bed with?”

  I nod and avert my gaze, but Cam reaches for my chin and tips it up with two fingers until we’re staring at each other.

  “Don’t be afraid of me,” he says quietly. “Or this won’t work.”

  I clasp my hands together on my lap. “Look, I don’t want you to feel pressured into doing this for me. Obviously, you could be with any woman you choose, and I’m nothing like what you’re used to, I’m sure.”

  “No,” he says slowly. “You’re not.”

  My heart sinks. “Let’s please just drop this…”

  “Savannah, you’re gorgeous. You’re smart. You’re funny. And you’re the best person I know. You’re so far out of my league I can’t believe you’re asking me to play in the game.”

  “I’m pretty sure you’re out of mine.” I clench my jaw, and Cam’s fingers gently brush along my skin.

  I inhale. “You’ve been with a virgin before, right?”

  “Yes. I was one too at the time.”

  “Right. But you know how to…make someone who’s not experienced feel comfortable. And I’m pretty sure I’ll need a lot of hand-holding.”

  Cam keeps his fingers tucked underneath my chin and looks at me for a long moment. I squirm under his gaze, wondering if he’s going to turn me down quickly or let the rejection drag out like a slow death. I brace myself for either one, so much that I don’t hear what he says next.

  “I’m sorry.” I tilt my head. “What did you say?”

  His dimple cuts into his cheek. “I said yes.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Despite me asking Cam to sleep with me, and despite him agreeing, a week passes without us seeing each other.

  The Cannons leave for a road trip the day after we get back. As is customary, I remain in Climax and keep up with things at the office. When I’m not working, I dance and work on sewing my costume for my performance next week. And, of course, I think of Cam.

  He’s never far from my mind, and I get plenty of face time, even if it’s all one-sided. Like always, Craig has an online live stream set up for the games, and I watch them. Cam stars in every one, and I hungrily take him in. I don’t have the nerve to reach out to him. Instead, I focus on helping the team keep winning.

  I liked the way you spread the offense, I text Craig after game one. The whole team was super aggressive. Cam was on fire tonight.

  The next night, it’s the same thing.

  You killed them, Coach.

  We’ve got a chance at the playoffs, Craig writes back. A real freaking chance. All because of this cocky guy who got demoted to our team. Life’s a bitch, huh?

  The freaking playoffs.

  The very idea of it feels like a dream. The last time the Cannons made the postseason, my father was by my side, and I was just a kid.

  I roll my chair back, kicking something in the process.

  I lean down to look.

  My shoebox of photographs.

  I pick up the box and go to put it away in my drawer. But a photo’s sticking out of the top, and I pull it out.

  It’s from the day we made the finals. Daddy’s being carried on the shoulders of his players. He’s got a huge smile on his face, and he’s in full celebration-mode. A cigarette dangles from his left hand—not exactly legal in the arena, but nobody ever told my father no. He’s holding his right hand up in a fist.

  I smile, remembering the excitement of it all. In that moment, I thought every practice, every drill, every early morning and late night at the rink with Daddy was worth it to see him so happy. But that good mood of his couldn’t last forever. And when the weather turned from sunny to cloudy in his world…nothing felt worth it.

  I place the photo into the trash can, realizing, for maybe the first time in my life, I’m truly having fun on my terms. The Cannons are winning, which is great, but it’s more than that. Between dancing and Cam, I’m taking risks, something I rarely did when my father was around.

  My phone vibrates with a new text message.

  I flick the screen and immediately start to laugh at the photo so blurry I can barely make out anything, but I’m pretty sure it
’s two foreheads. Mine and Cam’s from our night of ice skating in Lovelake. I can just barely see the edge of Cam’s cap and my winter hat.

  Guess my photo skills need a little work. Take two sometime?

  I’m smiling as I write him back. This is why I don’t like selfies. LOL. I hesitate and then add, You’re looking great out there on the ice. We usually suck on the road.

  Can’t wait to come home so you can watch in person.

  My fingers freeze over the keys. What do I say to that?

  Before I have to decide, he sends another text.

  I’ll see you soon, Savannah.

  See you soon.

  The evening the Cannons finally return to Climax, I grab my coat, lock the office door behind me, and head outside. I immediately feel the bone-chilling cold hit me, and I hurry to the arena.

  When I reach the rink, I take off my hat and pause just outside the door to fix my hair. I know Cam must be inside, and staying cold a few seconds longer is worth it if my ponytail isn’t sticking out from the side of my head like a tail.

  As soon as I step inside, the first thing I see is Cam with his dad in the corner of the rink.

  Cam’s wearing his practice jersey and pads. His skates are on, and he’s got his helmet under one arm. His dark eyes flick to meet my gaze, and he raises his hand in a wave. His dad, knee-deep in what looks to be a lecture, doesn’t notice me at all. I wave back and keep walking toward the bench.

  “Savannah!” Craig calls out as I reach him. “About time you joined us! Do you have the plays you drew up while we were away? I want to try one or two in practice.”

  I hand them to him without a word, and he glances at the paper.

  “Now run through this for me again. How will this one work?” he mutters as he glances at the first option.

  I point at the diagram I drew up. “D1 moves for the puck while D2’s keeping watch on the play. D2 calls out to D1, who can then turn up on the strong side and pass to LW. If LW is tied up, D1 could also pass to C. It gives a second option rather than just one if things don’t go our way the first time.”

  “Huh.” Craig stares at the diagram. “Yeah, I get it. The Devils love to cram players around the net, so this play would work perfectly in that situation.”

  “Right.” I look up, right into Cam’s intense gaze.

  “That’s a brilliant play,” he says, gesturing to the paper in Craig’s hands. “You’re amazing at this, Savannah.”

  I think that’s the first time someone’s been so excited about my play design. Craig tends to do a lot of grunting and not much else. And the previous coach didn’t believe anyone could call the right play other than him.

  “Thank you,” I murmur as I turn away and grab the empty water cooler.

  I slowly and methodically start to drag the cooler to the tap. I’ve made it about five feet when, without warning, two strong hands gently grip my hips and move me to the side.

  “I’ve got it.” Cam takes the cooler from me and tilts his head for me to follow him.

  “You don’t have to do that,” I protest as I hustle along next to him.

  “I know. I want to.” As we reach the tap and he starts to fill the cooler, he turns to face me fully.

  And then—there’s really no other word for this—Cam caresses me with his gaze. He’s looked at me before but never with this much focus. He starts at my face, concentrating on my mouth, and when I’m literally squirming with arousal, his eyes lower to my breasts, which are fairly hidden beneath my winter coat. But my nipples don’t care—they’re immediately aware of the attention being given to them. He scans down my torso and my legs before returning his gaze to meet my wide eyes.

  “Wha—” Here I go losing my voice again. “What did you just do?”

  He flashes that ridiculously flirtatious smile of his and leans in close to me. “I haven’t seen you in a week. And right now? I imagined doing what I just did with my eyes with other parts of me.”

  I stumble backward and nearly wipe out. I would have wiped out if Cam hadn’t caught me with his hand.

  “Savannah.” His expression flips from flirty to contrite in an instant.

  “I—I have to go.”

  I turn and walk out onto the ice so I can unhook the nets. My face is so hot I feel like I’ve been sunbathing in Florida, and the butterflies dancing inside my stomach refuse to settle down.

  Holy, holy shit.

  Cameron

  That got way out of hand. I just got back to town and I managed to scare Savannah onto the ice where she’s now sliding around on her shoes like she’s trying to take off and fly, anything to get away from me.

  I know she’s attracted to me, and not just because she asked me to take her virginity. It’s the way she blushes every time we get close to each other and how her pulse throbs in her neck whenever I touch her.

  But I’d promised myself I’d be patient with her, and I blew it just now. I came on too strong, and I’d take it back if I could. I want to follow her out onto the ice and apologize, but I know that will just send her running. And I’ve got a sales call right after practice so my apology will have to wait until tomorrow. I reluctantly turn away and head over to the practice bench with the cooler.

  Savannah

  I slide my way across the ice, enjoying not feeling stuck to the ground as I try to stop thinking about Cam and what just happened. I fled like I was being chased when he flirted with me. Who does that?

  Me, that’s who. A twenty-two year old virgin.

  When I finish with the nets, I stand there numb for a second.

  Time to leave the ice, Savannah. I give the goalposts a quick once-over, and then I take a seat as far away from the players’ bench as possible.

  I spend the next hour going over plays and formations with Eric. Once we’re finished, I return to my office and lock up for the night.

  The next day, Cam sticks his head into the open door of my office. He’s wearing a suit and a sexy black tie to match his jacket. I raise my hand in a little wave.

  “I brought lunch,” he says, his handsome face breaking into a smile. “Are you free?”

  “Sure.” I gesture to the two bags of Chinese food in his hands. “That smells delicious.”

  As he steps further inside my office, he locks eyes with me. “Savannah, I’m sorry about yesterday. I hope you know you can trust me.”

  I stand up from my desk and try to sound casual when I answer him. “I do. And you have nothing to apologize for.”

  “Were you scared?”

  His question hangs in the air.

  “A little,” I admit. “More like nervous.”

  “Care to tell me why?”

  I shift from one foot to the other. “Virgin nerves, I guess.”

  He nods and holds up the bags of food. “Let’s eat.”

  We take seats on the couch, and Cam puts the bags of food on the coffee table. I help him dish out the food.

  “Yum,” I say. “Scallion pancakes?”

  “Two orders of those.” He reaches into the bag for the cardboard boxes, and I lean over to help. “Chicken dumplings. And moo-shoo.”

  “How much?” I reach for my purse to pay him half.

  “I got it.”

  “Oh.” I shove some bills in his hand. “No, I insist.”

  He doesn’t fight me. “Okay, but if you won’t let me treat you for lunch, I’ll have to find another way,” he says as he fills a paper plate with food.

  Before I can ask him what he means, Craig bursts into my office.

  “Good,” he says, “You’re both here. Just the two people I need to talk to.”

  “What’s wrong?” I say.

  Craig heaves a sigh and starts pacing around the room. “Tonight is Climax’s biggest fundraiser party of the year. I was supposed to go—you know, shake hands with the business owners in town and the ones who come in from Minneapolis and St. Paul. It’s vital that the Cannons have someone representing us, especially with our need to increase
fan interest. But my mother’s still in town, and she bought tickets to the opera in the city. Never asked, never mentioned it once, and when I told her I already had plans, she started to cry.”

  “That’s too bad, Craig,” I say, not sure why he’s telling us this. “Maybe she can go with someone else?”

  He shakes his head. “It’s something we do together. Ever since my dad passed, she only has me. They used to go to the opera together—it was how they met.”

  “Oh. Well, I’m really sorry.” I clasp my hands in my lap. “What can I do to help?”

  Craig reaches into his pocket and hands me two tickets. “You and Wild will go to the fundraiser in my place.”

  “What?!” I sit up straight. “I can’t go to a party. I never go to parties. And I suck at schmoozing.”

  “That’s why you’ve got Wild.” Craig nods at him. “He’ll handle the people part of it. Right, Cam?”

  Cam’s gaze is focused solely on me like Craig isn’t even in the room. “Are you okay with this?” he says softly. “I can do all the chatting.”

  “Exactly!” Craig points at Cam and then turns back to me. “You just have to be there to answer any team questions—you know, about tickets, our schedule, our history, things of that nature. You know it even better than I do.”

  I’m already shaking my head. “No. I’m sorry, but I can’t. I have…” I don’t want to mention my dance performance. “I have something tonight until seven.”

  “The fundraiser doesn’t start until nine.” Craig tips his head toward the tickets in my hand, and I see the time of nine o’clock clearly printed on them. “You’ll be fine.”

  “I can pick you up,” Cam says to me.

  But I’m not about to be persuaded. “Have Eric do it. He’s comfortable in big gatherings, and he’s your assistant coach. He’s the better choice.”

  “His wife just went into labor a half hour ago.” Craig grimaces. “He would have done it otherwise. You’re all I’ve got left, Savannah. Don’t let me down.”

  I clutch the tickets so hard that Cam reaches over and gently pries them out of my fist.