by Kendall Ryan
“Cam, you met Mandy a few weeks ago. That time you had to pick me up at the gym? She’s my personal trainer, remember?”
“Oh yeah, of course. Mandy. Good to see you again.” How could I completely space on meeting her? My subconscious helpfully supplies, Because when you’re with Natalie, she’s the only one you have eyes for. Whoa, where the hell did that come from?
Our goalie, a surgeon, approaches to order a drink, and gives Natalie an obvious appraising look. I glare at him and clear my throat. Move along, asshole. I look down again to find Natalie and Mandy both staring at me expectantly.
“Hey, let’s grab this booth over here,” I say. “It’ll be easier to talk.” And in a booth, Natalie’s ass won’t be ogled by half the guys I work with.
I snag a beer from the bartender, walk over, and slide in beside Natalie without thinking. She nudges my ribs and flicks her gaze to Mandy, but I shrug it off. Mandy can probably take care of herself—she lifts weights for a living—but Natalie is way too sweet. And wearing way too little.
I mean, I’ve been looking out for Natalie since high school. No reason to stop just because she’s a grown woman in skintight jeans and a top that shows a hint of cleavage.
I clear my throat and signal a server. “I need sustenance, and you ladies need another round. It’s on me.”
Mandy flashes a blinding wall of white teeth at me and then up at the server, a bearded hipster with dreadlocks in a man bun. “Gin and tonic for me. With diet tonic water and extra lime, please.”
“Irish single malt on the rocks,” Natalie says. When she tucks a strand of shiny golden-brown hair behind her ear, her mouthwatering lilac-and-cotton scent wafts my way.
“Give me another of the seasonal ale on tap,” I say, “and a couple of the appetizers you have on happy-hour special.” The guy blinks, staring between Natalie and then me, like he’s sizing up his chances. Jesus, it’s a meat market in this place tonight. Not even the staff know how to act civilized. “Thanks, man.” I hand over the appetizer menu to hurry him out of here.
Natalie leans away from me and settles her back against the wall of the booth. “Cam is the best pediatrician around, Mandy. You should see him with these kids. They adore him.”
Mandy blinks at me expectantly, but I gulp my beer and try not to be annoyed. Natalie is trying to shove me in Mandy’s pants, and every other dude in the bar is trying to shove me out of the way to get into Natalie’s.
What the fuck is up with tonight?
“She’s exaggerating,” I manage to say. “I do love my work, though.” Ask the lady about herself, dude. “So, uh, Mandy, how long have you been a trainer?”
Mandy beams and launches into a monologue about kinesiology and nutrition science. I try to focus, I really do, but that strand of hair keeps escaping to trail over Natalie’s collarbone. It’s taking every ounce of my being to not reach over and move that strand back to its rightful place. The appetizer comes, and Natalie slides over to grab a mini slider. Her thigh brushes against mine. When her blouse shifts, flashing a glimpse of the valley between her breasts, I swallow. Since I’ve gone mute, Natalie chats with Mandy again, both women stirring their drinks and giving me looks from time to time. Mandy’s flirtatious, and Natalie is perplexed.
At the bar, Greg licks his lips and shakes his head. His eyes fasten on the soft swell of skin that’s currently giving me the cold sweats. He tilts his head in question. Am I going to hook him up with my friend, the one I swore is just a buddy? I glare at him and shove a piece of deep-fried cheese in my mouth. It’s the bet making me feel this way. . . it has to be. Just knowing I’ve taken a celibacy vow has made me about ten times hornier. Nothing else explains the way my best friend is suddenly getting under my skin in the worst—and best—way possible. I’m so damn confused right now, and it’s got me off my game.
“Cam. Paging Dr. Camden Carter. Did you take a puck to the head, dude?” Natalie’s fingers snake through my hair as if she’s checking for head injuries.
I jerk my head away and pretend to be fussy about my hair, but my primitive brain is apparently stuck at age sixteen. That special panic strikes me, the kind you get from a random, poorly timed boner, like on oral presentation day in high school. When she ran her fingers through my hair, my mind immediately went to her doing that while I was fully seated in her as she moaned underneath me. Jesus. How long was this bet for again?
“Hmm? Yeah, everything’s great.” I take a shot at guessing the conversation I was supposed to be having. Mandy’s smile falters, so I assume I’m not even in the arena with that one.
Natalie gives me a concerned look. “Cam, you’re seriously not yourself. What’s wrong? I’m going to feel terrible if you really did get a concussion.”
“No, I’m fine. It’s just been a long week, and it was a tough game. To be honest, I’m beat. Sorry, ladies, I’m poor company tonight.”
Their faces fall and soften with concern, and then Mandy’s gaze wanders over to Greg, who’s still looking in the general direction of our table.
“I knew something was up. You’ve been off since you walked in.” Natalie pats my leg, and I try not to notice how high her hand is on my thigh.
Jesus.
“Nat, do you mind if we head out? I think I’m just worn out from this week.”
Lies. All lies.
“Oh. Yeah, of course.” Natalie glances at Mandy. They exchange one of those enigmatic girl stares, as if questions are silently being asked and answered within a few heartbeats’ time.
“It was nice to see you again, Mandy.”
“It was great to see you too, Cam.” She holds out a hand for me to shake. “I’m sure I’ll see you around. Hope you feel better.”
“Do you want to share a cab?” Natalie asks her friend.
“No, I’m going to go have another at the bar. You guys go ahead.”
“Are you sure?”
Mandy’s perky smile is back, but it isn’t aimed at me this time. I can almost see Greg high-fiving himself. Good. Better her than Natalie to get mixed up with that cocky bastard.
“Yeah. Definitely. See you Monday at five thirty, Nat. I’m going to bring the pain, so be ready.”
As they hug, I settle my tab and pay for another drink for Mandy, feeling bad about totally forgetting who she was earlier.
Then Natalie and I head out, and I wrestle my raging hormones under control yet again. After a quick cab ride, Natalie follows me up to my place.
“All right, old man. You owe me a beer at least for ending the night at . . .” She glances at her phone. “Nine thirty.”
“Local microbrew or the watered-down light crap?”
“Don’t play with me. You know what I like.”
I pour a locally produced pilsner in a tall glass I pull from the freezer. She’s kicked off her shoes, settled on the sofa, and tucked her feet under her. I lean over to hand her the glass just as she rolls her head to the side and back, stretching her neck. Damn. A mental picture of me sucking gently on that spot over her collarbone flashes through my brain.
“Is Jack working tonight?” she asks.
“Yeah, as far as I know.”
“Does he have a rebound chick yet? I wouldn’t be surprised. The bigger the heartbreak, the faster Jack wants to replace her.”
“Nah, I think he’ll take his time. For once. He actually swore off women for a while.” I walk around and snag the TV remote as I sink into the cushions.
Natalie lets out a bark of laughter. “Jack? Yeah, right. That won’t last long.”
I chuckle. “That’s what I told him when he mentioned it the other night. Fucker actually got me to make this pact with him. No hooking up for thirty days. The loser has to do the other’s laundry for a year.”
Her eyebrows dart up. “Wow.”
“Speaking of love lives, how are things with Ben?”
She takes a long sip of beer. The TV flickers on, landing on some manly reality show about gold miners or loggers or something.
Good,” she says. “Yeah, good. Ben’s nice; we’ve been out a couple times. I definitely have fun with him, and we have plenty in common. Nothing serious, but I mean, yeah. Things are good.” She sounds a little like she’s trying to convince herself.
“Well then, good. I guess.”
On TV, a guy weighed down with safety gear starts a chainsaw.
“What about you? Why did you pass on Mandy?” Natalie leans to the side and bumps me gently, then prods my arm. “And believe me, you are seriously tense, my friend.”
I roll my shoulders. “I don’t know. I just wasn’t feeling it with Mandy. But, yeah, I guess I am tense.” I stretch my neck from one side to the other.
“Here, let me. I’ll get some of these knots out.” Natalie shoves at me until I turn around on the sofa and present her with my back.
“Shirt off,” she orders. “Might as well do it the right way.”
Because words fail me, I reach back and pull my T-shirt over my head. Her fingers are tentative at first, and then her palms slide over the tightly corded muscles and tendons in my neck. Her thumbs dig in, tracing firm circles in my flesh. The silence that falls between us is probably just concentration. Yeah, I’m sure that’s all it is.
Her slender fingers work down the ridges on either side of my spine and then up over my delts. Her soft hands rubbing over my skin feels incredible. . . it has definitely been too long since I’ve felt female hands on my bare skin. Her warm breath tickles my neck as she leans closer. Shit. I clench my jaw over a groan as I realize with alarm that Natalie has given me a magnificent hard-on. Fuck! This is not helping any tension that I have in my body; in fact, it’s only ramping it up tenfold. I could very well break in two, I’m wound so damn tight right now.
I try to be subtle about shifting the green throw pillow next to me over my crotch, but her fingers still for a second.
I lick my dry lips. My cock throbs. But then her hands move again, slower. The space between us suddenly feels warmer. The air I’m attempting to breathe in feels thicker. If there were any blood flow to my brain, I might wonder what the hell is happening, but it’s all been diverted to the situation in my pants. The TV goes silent for a second after a commercial, and in that space, I swear she can hear my heart thudding hard and fast in my chest.
And still neither of us speaks.
Natalie’s soft hands drift over my shoulders, her thumbs working into the muscle while my cock continues to throb.
A key rattles in the lock. Jack comes inside, dropping his shoes noisily with a sigh in the front hall. Turning the corner for the living room, he opens his mouth to say something but stops when he sees us. A funny quiver crosses his face, like the face you make when you spot someone making a fool of themselves in public.
“Hey . . . guys. I thought you were going out after your game, Cam?”
“Yeah,” I croak. “We did. But we, ah, bounced. I was tired and the place was lame.”
Natalie’s weight shifts behind me, and she rises to walk over to give Jack a quick hug. “Sorry about your broken heart. Found someone to heal it for you yet?” She smirks, clearly referring to the bet I just told her about.
“No, I think I’m gonna back off, let it ride for a while.” He looks over her shoulder at me putting on my T-shirt, and shifts his weight. I desperately think of baseball stats and my eleventh-grade physics teacher, a slovenly old guy who drank milk of magnesia like it was water. Anything to get the erection in my pants to die down before I stand up.
“Pardon me if I have trouble believing that will stick.” She laughs, but it sounds forced. Something is off. Not since the day we all swore to be friends have we found ourselves standing around without something to say.
She walks over and picks her purse up off the floor by the sofa. “I guess you’re in good hands, the both of you, so I’m going to head home.”
Is it just me, or is her face slightly flushed?
Natalie and Jack share a one-armed side hug, and then he shrugs off his jacket as he heads to the fridge for a beer. I stand, hoping like hell the bulge in my pants is under control. My hand hovers behind the small of Natalie’s back as I walk her to the door, but I let it fall before I touch her.
“’Night. And sorry I ruined your evening,” I say, my voice low.
“You ruined my matchmaking too, you jerk. Mandy probably went home with some other hockey doctor.”
“She’s probably better off,” I say, but I don’t say why. Don’t think it, either. But when we hug good night, and my arms tighten around her waist, I let myself think about how good it feels. How good she feels, with her soft curves and round breasts pressing against my chest. My body wants to stay close to her, but I force myself to let go and take a slow step back, giving her space.
“Good night, Cam,” she says softly, her eyes briefly flickering on mine.
Without a word, I walk her down the stairs and watch as she climbs into her black sedan, waiting until she’s pulled away before I head back inside. When the door closes, I bypass the kitchen where Jack is standing and stalk down the hall to my room. It isn’t just my bet with Jack at stake; it’s potentially the two friendships that mean the most to me in the world. Whether it was that massage, or something different about Natalie, I’ve somehow found myself in dangerous waters. At the age of sixteen, Jack and I swore a blood oath that Natalie was off-limits, and since then, I’ve never even let myself see her that way before. It’s not like we didn’t both know she was gorgeous; otherwise, we wouldn’t have had to make a vow.
I need to get my shit together, and fast. If I don’t, I could ruin everything that’s most important in my life.
Chapter Six
Natalie
“C’mon, Cam. Please?” I rack my brain, going back to high school for something—anything—that I can hang over his head, or some favor I can offer that will convince Cam to be my plus-one to my parents’ soiree tonight.
“I don’t know,” he says. “It’s been years since I’ve been to one of your parents’ famous parties. What kind of event are we talking about?”
“Small, intimate. Fifty people . . . seventy-five at most. Best bartender in Chicago, if that’s any incentive. I just need to make an appearance and we can jet, I swear.”
In the silence that follows, I cross my fingers and fall back onto my bed, holding the phone. Talking to Cam brings out the preteen in me sometimes, the awkward girl who desperately wanted friends my parents didn’t buy for me. If he and Jack hadn’t taken pity on me, I might have never learned to socialize like a normal person.
“It’s not a yes,” he finally says. “But tell me again why your boyfriend isn’t going?”
“Ben isn’t my boyfriend. I mean, we’re just not there yet. If ever.” My cheeks heat, and I wonder why I feel almost embarrassed talking about Ben to Cam. He’s been privy to every dating misadventure of my life. “He’s not ready to run the mother-father gauntlet, and for their part, my parents would read way too much into it. Jack already turned me down on the flimsy excuse of having to work. You’re my only hope!”
“You know, I should be pissed that I’m your second choice.” Cam sighs into the phone, and I picture him staring at the ceiling in the defeated gesture he makes every time he gives in to some scheme of mine. Which is often. “I’ll pick you up at 6:45.”
“Thank you, Cam! You’re a lifesaver.”
He laughs, and a warm, fluttery feeling stirs in my stomach.
“Seriously, you’re the best friend in the entire world.”
“See you tonight, Natalie.” His voice sounds amused, even if he is going for annoyed.
• • •
Because Camden Carter is just that way, he shows up at my condo right on time—wearing a devastatingly well-tailored navy blue suit.
I smile when I see him. “Thank you for this.”
He smirks, mischief in his eyes. “Unfortunately for me, you’re very hard to say no to.”
“I just need to finish getting
ready. Five minutes, tops,” I say, running my fingers through my curls to tame them into loose waves.
“Take your time.” He turns to watch me go.
“Help yourself to a drink,” I call from my bedroom where I begin hunting for a pair of nude heels I haven’t worn in a while. I fish them out from under my bed. A spritz of perfume and my favorite berry-colored shade of lipstick, and then I’m ready. When I emerge a few minutes later, Cam smirks at me.
“I have your favorite beer, bottom shelf,” I say, noting his lack of beverage. He’s just standing by the windows, quiet and contemplative.
His gaze still on mine, he shakes his head. “You’ll need liquid patience tonight more than I will. I’ll be your designated driver.”
“You’re not wrong,” I admit with a smirk. He knows that my relationship with my parents is oftentimes frustrating.
Cam’s gaze moves lazily over the dress I’ve chosen—black with spaghetti straps, in a mid-calf length that’s hugging my curves a little more than I’d like. “You look spectacular, by the way. I almost feel bad for depriving Ben of the view.”
My friendship butterflies wriggle. That’s all these are, right? Because they certainly can’t be actual butterflies. Cam and Jack normally pretend that I’m basically asexual, like they don’t notice I’m a girl. Compliments on my appearance are definitely not the norm from either of them. Looking up at Cam, I just smile and say, “Thanks.” I grab my evening purse as he ushers me out the door with one hand on the small of my back.
Fifteen minutes later, we pull into a gated community and up to the top of the hill where my parents’ mansion sits, brightly lit. Cam stops his car in front of the fountain and angles his head at my parents’ obscenely huge house.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Never.”
“Too bad. Suck it up and get in there.”
“Suck it, Carter.” I resist the urge to stick out my tongue, but just barely.
I don’t have to spell it out that coming from a family with money has major perks. Growing up, when everyone else was put in soccer leagues, I got to take private horseback riding lessons. When I was applying for colleges, I didn’t have to worry about loans or scholarships. And when it comes to family vacations? Let me tell you, the Moores do it up right.
