Unfiltered & Unraveled

by Payge Galvin

  He was a grown man, running from an undergrad because he couldn’t face making eye contact with her over dinner. And now, seeing her ass in those tight jeans and that teeny tiny blue New Beginnings tank top was torture. Her long legs were clenched around Pickle’s back, reminding him exactly how toned and strong they were. And was it wrong to be obsessed with a woman’s shoulders? Because she had the smoothest, tannest shoulders he’d ever seen. And thanks to the “incident,” he knew exactly what was going on under that tank top. She turned in the saddle, her golden hair blowing messily around her face. And it felt like all of the air had been sucked out of Cam’s lungs.

  Yep, straight to hell.

  “What are you doing out here?” she asked, not sounding particularly friendly. He tried not to take that personally.

  Cam led his usual horse, Sunspot, to trot beside Pickles. “It’s my free morning. No group. No office hours.”

  “But what does your group do when you’re not around?” she asked

  “Right now, I think they’re in yoga.”

  She screwed up her face into an adorably speculative expression. “Is that a reward or a punishment?”

  “I don’t really know,” he admitted as the horses plodded along. “So, your first solo trail ride, you must be making progress.”

  “Yes, I am applying myself in some areas of treatment,” she said, her voice just a little too tart.

  “I wasn’t making any judgments,” he assured her. “I’m just glad you’ve found something here that you enjoy. So, let’s talk about something completely unrelated to the center. Tell me something about yourself. What are you studying in school?”

  “Is this an impromptu therapy session?” she asked. “I think you have to read me my rights or something before we start.”

  “I’m not your counselor, Violet. I am not involved in your treatment at all; I made sure of it.”

  Right, his brain railed at him, because that was a totally normal thing to say.

  “I’m a business major,” she said. “Super-exciting.”

  Cam’s dark brows knit together. He didn’t see Violet as a business student. Nursing, maybe, or education, or some field where she’d end up a nurturer, but she was definitely not a PowerPoint and power suit type. “And is that something you enjoy?”

  “Not particularly,” she said with a shake of her head. “I show a talent for the coursework though. And I make good grades. My parents expect nothing less if I’m going to take over the family business.”

  Cam remembered vaguely from Violet’s intake paperwork that her parents ran a funeral home outside of Rio Verde. He couldn’t imagine someone as lively and vibrant as the young woman in front of him dealing with grief all day, every day. The very idea made his chest feel strange and tight.

  “Well, what courses have you enjoyed?”

  Violet shrugged those golden shoulders and he watched, mesmerized, as the sun glistened over her sweat-sheened skin. It was deeply unfair for someone to look that sexy while giving such a non-committal gesture. “Honestly, I took an organic chemistry class for my science requirement that was really interesting. It led to a couple of botany courses. I’m no good at keeping plants alive, but I found that I really liked mixing essential oils and extracts together to make something useful.”

  He adopted a serious, accusatory expression. “You mean for pharmaceuticals?”

  Cam burst out laughing as she swung out to slap at his arm. Fortunately, Sunspot sidestepped at just the right second and he evaded it. She looked like she’d put some power behind it, even though she was giggling. “I am not playing around with peyote, smartass. I meant shampoos and facials, that sort of thing.”

  “The whole ‘respect for the staff’ aspect of our relationship has totally deteriorated, hasn’t it?” he asked, unable to hide the silly grin he got from making Violet laugh. But he noted, much to his chagrin, that her laughter stopped abruptly when he reminded her that he was on staff. He quickly changed subjects. “Have you considered changing majors or taking some extra courses?”

  She was quiet, carefully leading Pickles around a wide curve in the trail. She shook her head, chewing her plump pink bottom lip. “No, my parents would think it’s stupid. Plus it’s a little late to try to change majors now. I only have one year left before my exactly scheduled graduation. Besides, what would I do with it?”

  “Go into research. Work for a company that makes spa products. Do something you enjoy,” he suggested.

  “Thank you. I will give that some thought, and I will also think about offering you an apology for the mean things I said in your office the other day. I shouldn’t have said you could only survive in substance-free Disneyland. That was hateful.”

  He nodded. “Yes, it was.”

  “And I shouldn’t have called you a Ken doll with less personality,” she added.

  “Maybe we should stop reliving it.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  The horses fell in step together, and Violet was quiet. It was easy, far too easy, for him to imagine that they were just a regular couple, on a trail ride, with no ethical reasons keeping them from seeing each other naked. And he had to stop thinking like this, or there would be an express lane installed to Hell.

  Violet cleared her throat. “So are we going to talk about the shower thing or pretend it never happened?”

  He nodded, biting his bottom lip so he wouldn’t smile – because that would be off-putting. “Pretend it never happened.”

  “Cause that always works,” she muttered.

  “I do owe you an apology, Violet. It was completely inappropriate for me to see you like that. I shouldn’t really be out here alone with you now, after … I’m really…”

  And that’s when it occurred to him, that he couldn’t say he was sorry. Total honesty was important to him. It was a vital component in his sobriety. And he just couldn’t tell Violet that he was sorry for walking in on her in the shower, because he wasn’t sorry. He was sorry that he seemed to have made her uncomfortable. He was sorry that he’d added another level of awkwardness to their already complicated dynamic. He was sorry he’d let this pregnant pause last so long, because there didn’t seem to be a way of recovering from it.

  “How much longer is this trail?” she asked

  “About another mile. You should be able to see the barn over the next rise.”

  “Oh, good,” she sighed. “So tell me something about yourself, something that will make up for you seeing me naked. How did you end up here at New Beginnings?”

  Cam cleared his throat. No. He didn’t want to tell her this story. He’d tell her anything else. Embarrassing college anecdotes, first-date horror stories, his middle name. Anything but this.

  “I was naked,” she reminded him. “Completely nude. And not in a figurative emotionally revealing way.”

  Cam's tongue was frozen. He couldn’t seem to produce any words, which was ridiculous, because he’d told this story countless times over the course of his recovery. But somehow, this was different. Telling Violet about what he’d done seemed terrifying. He couldn’t even look at her, imagining those huge spiced chocolate eyes of hers looking at him with judgment, or worse, disgust. He couldn’t tell her what he’d let himself become, what he’d taken from his family.

  “Cam?” Violet was close enough to touch her fingers to his shoulder, her fingertips burning a trail of awareness across the skin of his neck. As much as he wanted it, he shrugged off her touch. He spared a glance toward her and saw a face so confused and lushly beautiful that it made his chest ache.

  “I killed my brother.”

  Chapter 10

  Cam kicked Sunspot hard enough to make him bolt toward the barn.

  I stared after his broad back, mouth hanging open in shock.

  What in the holy fuck?

  He’d killed his brother? Was he kidding? Was it a metaphor? I just couldn’t imagine a world where Cam had hurt anybody with more than sarcasm.

  But Cam
didn’t lie, that was sort of his thing. He said he’d come to the center eight years before. Had he been living with that guilt and pain for all that time? No wonder his anger always seemed so close to the surface. No wonder he seemed so tightly wound.

  I kicked Pickles firmly in his ribs, making him lurch forward into a … leisurely trot. I nudged him again, but he refused to go any faster.

  “Oh, come on, boy,” I groaned. “Get the lead out.”

  Pickles seemed to think he knew better, however, and ambled back to the barn at his own pace. By the time I got back to the barn, Cam had most of Sunspot’s tack off. His posture was angry and stiff, but I couldn’t tell if he was angry with me for prying or with himself for blurting his business out to me that way. Mick was nowhere to be seen.

  I pulled Pickles to a stop just outside the barn, near the slate-finish horse trough, and swung my legs off of the saddle.

  “Cam,” I called, sliding to the ground and hitching Pickles to the post. He was already happily slurping at the filtered horse water. “Cameron?”

  I jogged across the barn on legs that felt jellied and weak from the exercise of the ride. By the time I arrived at Sunspot’s stall, Cam had stripped every last piece of gear off of his horse and was facing me, ready to bolt himself.

  And that was the moment when I realized I had no idea what to say.

  Cam was breathing heavily, and his green eyes were glassy and hot. I lifted my hands, palms up, unsure of whether I was trying to stop him or touch him. Cam shut the stall door behind him, and he bent his head over me, his nose almost brushing my hair. His warm breath feathered across my forehead as I stared up at his mouth. I craned my neck up, barely restraining myself from licking that little divot above his top lip. He crowded me back against the tack room door. He stared down at me, seawater eyes desperate and bottomless, and I felt like I was drowning.

  “Violet, we can’t,” he breathed against my mouth.

  I nodded, even as my legs threatened to give way under me. “I know.”

  He nodded and took a deep breath, then groaned, clutching my face in his hands and attacking my mouth. His lips molded against mine, and his tongue dragged across my bottom lip.

  I moaned, twisting my hands into his shirt and pulling him close. The noise seemed to snap Cam out of his fugue state, and he pulled away from me. His mouth was red and wet, and his chest was heaving.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, shoving my hands out of the way and dragging me against him. His tongue slipped easily into my mouth, making me moan as it tangled with mine. This was not a polite college boy end-of-the-night kiss. My mouth belonged to him, and God help anybody who tried to kiss me later, because I was basically ruined.

  Cam slid his hands around my thighs, pulling my legs around his waist and pinning me to the door with his rock hard cock. I dragged my nails through his hair and he hissed, rolling his hips against me. I made a little whimpering sound, my hand scrabbling against the door so I could get some leverage to grind down on him.

  Cam fumbled for the doorknob and somehow managed to keep me from tumbling back through the tack room door. I threw my arms around his neck, licking and biting at his jaw as he carried me to the high wooden table at the back of the room.

  “Gah!” I grunted as my ass collided with the edge of the table. He might have muttered something like “sorry” against my neck as the grooming tools rattled and slid to the floor. He helped me slide up onto the table. I jerked his shirt out of his pants and tried to pull it over his head, but he grabbed my wrists and pressed them to the table with one hand.

  Growling, Cam pushed my jeans open and panties to the side and teased a single finger along the seam of my wet sex. I shuddered, hands scrabbling against the table as he worked his fingers inside me to find the angle.

  Leaning back against the table, I wrapped my legs around his waist, spreading my thighs wide to give him all the space he needed. He moved his thumb in tight circles around the little nub, making my back arch and my nipples go diamond-hard underneath my tank top; the same tank top he whipped over my head and dropped to the floor. He licked a soft, wet line from my neck to the valley between my breasts. I slid my hand up his chest, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. I popped the top two and my fingertips brushed against strange, raised patterns on the warm skin underneath. But again, he wrapped his free hand around my wrists and trapped them against the rough wood.

  The lights overhead seemed to duck and dance as my eyes rolled back. This was such a bad idea. Anybody could walk in at any minute and find us like this. Cam could get fired. I could get kicked out of New Beginnings and disowned. This was a bad choice, rash, irresponsible, unethical, reckless, and – holy fuck – Cam sucked my nipple through the fabric of my bra just as he slid two slick fingers inside my wet flesh. I cried out and wriggled out of his grip, clutching at his shoulders as he leaned his forehead against mine.

  I pulled at his shirt until the buttons popped loose from their holes, revealing a broad pale chest covered in thick purplish-red scars running in jagged diagonal lines. My eyes went wide and Cam grabbed for his shirt to close it over his damaged flesh. I wrapped my fingers around his wrists and stopped him. He tried to step away from me but was trapped in the circle of my legs. I sat up, and he shied away from me, never looking away, as if he had to keep an eye on my hands to keep me from tricking him or hurting him. I pulled his hands to my chest as I kissed his lips, his chin, his neck and finally, ran my lips down the line of his collarbone to the first raised line of scar tissue.

  He gently pushed me away, bringing my lips up for a kiss before pressing me onto my back. His fingers slipped back between my slippery thighs and eased inside of me. I nodded, rolling my hips. He was watching me, his eyes following the line of my body as I moved for him.

  My brain flashed back to my dream of him watching me bury my own fingers in my pussy on his desk. The physical reality and the images in my brain joined forces against me and my whole body seemed to clench. A ripple of sensation coiled out from center, and I opened my mouth to scream. Cam’s hand clapped over my mouth, muffling the sound, even as he worked his fingers in and out. I threw my head back, bucking my hips and squeezing my still jean-clad legs around his waist. The edges of my vision went white, and I let out a muffled howl.

  For the first time, the corner of his mouth lifted, and he looked calm again. He moved his hand, leaning down so he could kiss me, wet and hot and lingering.

  Outside the tack room door, I heard boot steps.

  “Violet?” Mick called.

  We froze.

  Shit.

  Shitshitshit.

  Cam’s eyes went wide, and I clapped a hand over my own mouth. Cam silently helped me hop down from the table. I yanked up my jeans, hands fumbling and shaking with fear.

  “Vi, are you in there?” Mick knocked gently on the door.

  “Yeah, Mick?” I squeaked.

  Cam violently shook his head and pantomimed shushing me.

  “Are you OK?” Mick asked. “Pickles is tied up outside. Did the trail ride go all right?”

  “Uh, sure, Mick, I, uh, just got a…” I shot Cam a helpless look and he shrugged, throwing up his hands. I searched for an explanation that would both explain why I was hiding in the tack room and make Mick so uncomfortable he would go away. “I got a blister.”

  Cam blinked at me and then shot me a double thumbs-up.

  “I got a blister from the saddle.”

  “Aw, well, that’s nothing, Violet,” Mick assured me as Cam struggled into his shirt. “Happens all the time.”

  “Not where I got the blister, Mick.”

  There was a long pause on the other side of the door. Cam lifted his eyebrows, and I shrugged in response.

  “I’ll get you some ointment and Band-Aids from the first aid kit.”

  “I’ve already got them,” I told him. “And I’ll untack Pickles. I just need a minute of privacy, OK?”

  “Sure thing, hon. Uh, I’m going to – I’m just
going to go check the fences or something. Something, far, far away from here.”

  “Thanks, Mick.”

  I could hear Mick’s boots practically running for the other side of the barn. I sagged against the table and blew out a long breath. I couldn’t believe that had worked. I couldn’t believe I’d almost been caught getting fingerbanged in a barn at rehab. If there was a gold medal for fucking up, I was sure I was in the running.

  But honestly, that was the best I’d felt in weeks, since before the events at the Coffee Cave. I was still feeling a little guilty, but at least it was for something that felt good. I’d broken rules, not laws. And I was jaded enough now to recognize the distinction. And Cam… Cam was staring at me, expression blank and shocked.

  “So, that happened,” I murmured.

  Cam nodded. “Yes, it did.”

  “I’m not sorry,” I told him. “And if you apologize, I will smack you. Really hard.”

  “Noted.” He nodded again.

  “I’m going to go make sure the coast is clear,” I told him. I stuck my head out of the tack room. Mick had high-tailed it to that place far, far away. I retrieved a well-hydrated Pickles from the hitching post, removed his saddle and bridle, then offered the quickest in-stall rubdown any horse had ever received.

  Cam was waiting for me at the barn door when I was finished. Once we were sure Mick was halfway across the fenced-in pasture, we made for the walking path to New Beginnings. Under normal post-fingerbanging circumstances, this would have been sort of romantic – a long, dusty trail over rolling hills with sunset approaching… practically sprinting toward a substance abuse center, where we would pretend that he hadn’t just seen my “O” face in a barn.

  OK, maybe not.

  Cam was quiet; not upset or angry, just quiet. I wanted to say something, but I could not figure what the hell to say. The silence was killing me. I had no idea what he was thinking, or if he was thinking or

  “My family has a lot of money,” Cam said suddenly.

  I stopped in my tracks, searching through my brain for the right response. “Congratulations?”