Blade (Archer's Creek Book 3)

by Gemma Weir

“It’s my pleasure. I brought us a six pack,” he says holding up the beers.

  “He brought us too,” another voice says as Puck, Smoke, Daisy, and Dove, all file into the backyard and take seats around the fire pit.

  “Hey, guys,” I say, jumping up to hug my sister.

  “Hi, Sissy,” she greets. “We decided you needed a housewarming party now that you finally moved in.”

  Before I have a chance to protest, the gate opens again and Cam, K.C., Anders and Grits march in, all carrying bottles of liquor and plates of food. My heart quickens just at the sight of Cam and if I was braver I’d run to him and fling myself into his arms. But I’m not brave, I’m a coward. Everyone else fades into insignificance and all I see is him. I want him. I need him to make everything whole again, but I’m too much of a pussy to tell him how I feel.

  His eyes lock with mine and I imagine he can see all of the ways he affects me. My nipples harden, my breath comes faster, and every inch of me becomes hyper-aware of him. Cam dips his chin at me, the only greeting I get from him anymore, and then he moves to sit next to K.C.

  A wave of desolation crashes down on me. I can’t take it anymore, I need more of him. More than a nod of the head and my nights spent in his arms. I need him to talk to me, to drive me crazy, and take care of me even when I fight him on it.

  I’m dragged out of my Cam induced haze when Anders passes me. He leans down to quickly kiss the top of my head in greeting and I twist my face up to smile fondly at him. “Hi, sweetheart,” he coos and my heart melts at how sweet my pseudo dad is.

  One by one the guys all find a seat around the fire and beers are passed around. “Smoke, K.C., could you go grab the rest of the food from my car please?” Grits says, raising her eyebrow expectantly at the guys before she leans down and gives me a quick hug. Stifling a chuckle, I watch as the two large men get up and disappear through the gate, re-emerging moments later laden down with several platters of food.

  “Grits, what did you do? There’s so much food,” I cry, jumping to my feet and rushing to help. Taking the platter from the top, I quickly arrange the food on the table, noting that Grits even brought paper plates and plastic cutlery.

  “You thought of everything. Thank you,” I say, a slight catch in my voice as I pull her into a hug.

  “Oh, it’s nothing, sweetie, but we needed to celebrate you officially moving back home.” Grits coos, uncovering the food and making herself a plate.

  “Home,” I say quietly under my breath.

  “Dang, I forgot the napkins,” Grits cries. “Nikki, have you got any?”

  I nod, jump up from my seat and head into the kitchen. Opening one of my new cabinets I reach up on my tiptoes to grab the napkins from the top shelf. I feel his presence the moment he enters the room, he steps behind me and his scent surrounds me, intoxicating me. His huge body dwarfs mine and I close my eyes for a second and luxuriate in the feeling of having him this close.

  “Happy new house, Duchess,” Cam growls into my ear.

  His voice makes me shudder and I feel the arousal instantly pool between my legs. It’s been five long weeks since he spoke to me and I want to cry with joy just from hearing the word Duchess from his lips.

  Slowly, I sink back down onto my heels and turn around to face him. Cam’s not touching me, but his body is close enough to mine that I can feel the heat radiating off him. He bites his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes scan my body from head to toe. He surveys me, taking in my pink cotton sundress and oversized white cardigan, all the way down to my bare feet and pale-pink painted toenails. His gaze scorches my skin, sensitizing every inch and making me hum with desire.

  “Cam,” I say, my voice barely a rasp.

  His eyes widen at the sound of my voice and for the first time in weeks he reaches out and touches me. It’s only a fingertip on the side of my cheek, but that feather-light touch is more intense than anything I’ve felt in years. He holds me at night, but it doesn’t feel the same as this. At night I sometimes think he needs me almost more than I need him, but during the waking hours I need him to touch me more than I need my next breath.

  I whimper when he pulls back, and tears well in my eyes. I might not be able to tell him how I feel, but maybe I can show him. Stepping into his chest, I wrap my arms around him and turn my face to rest my cheek against his heart. I wait what feels like an eternity for his arms to hold me back and when they do I exhale a shaky sigh of relief.

  “Cam,” I whisper, hoping that I’m brave enough to finally talk to him.

  “Nik,” Park calls from out on the patio.

  Cam tenses and I know I’ve missed my chance. Why couldn’t I just say the words. “I need you.” It’s only three words and I think if I could get those three words out, I could maybe figure out a way to tell him everything. I could tell him he makes me feel whole and that I’m falling in love with him too.

  But instead the moment is broken, and Cam’s arms fall away from me. My arms feel bereft, and the coldness that surrounds me without his touch, feels like I’m living in eternal shade.

  “Nik, love, did you not hear me? We need ice,” Park calls, suddenly appearing in the doorway.

  My eyes stay fixed on Cam for one, two, three long seconds and then I force myself to look away. “Err, oh errr yeah, I’ll grab it for you,” I say, striding across the kitchen to the freezer and grabbing a bag of ice.

  I feel the moment Cam leaves the room and my stomach drops with disappointment. Did I just miss the only opportunity I’ll have to tell him that I feel something for him too? It’s taken me over a month to build the courage to get this far; will he still feel the same way in another month’s time?

  Park takes the ice from my hands and slings his arm across my shoulders, dropping a kiss to the top of my head as he guides me out of the kitchen. “Come on, love. You look like you need a beer and some food.”

  My eyes roam the patio, but I don’t see Cam anywhere. Fear trickles through me and I suddenly wonder if he’s left. He made the first move, he spoke to me, he touched me. Surely I couldn’t have frightened him off just by touching him back? All the racing thoughts in my mind settle as soon as I see him walk back onto the patio with a scowl on his face and a plate of food in his hands.

  He takes his seat next to K.C. but his emotion-filled eyes never leave me. Feeling pinned to the spot by Cam’s intense gaze, I try to eat the plate of food Grits hands me, but my stomach roils more with each bite I take. Sipping my beer, a wave of nausea washes over me and breathing through my nose I place my beer on the ground and wait for the feeling to pass. When my stomach seems to have settled, I look down at the BBQ ribs on my plate and the nausea returns full force. Dropping my food to the floor, I run for the kitchen, just making it before the vomit rises in my throat and I expel everything into the sink.

  “Nikki,” my sister’s concerned voice calls from behind me.

  I try to speak, but another wave of nausea hits and I retch, vomiting again. The acid burns my throat and brings tears to my eyes.

  Warm fingers pull my hair from around my face and a soothing hand rubs across my back.“It’s okay, sweetie,” Grits says.

  The obvious affection in her tone pushes my emotion-filled body over the edge and more tears pool in my eyes, as another bout of sickness consumes me. Eventually my nausea turns to dry heaves and I finally push myself up and turn on the faucet. Grits hands me some paper towels to wipe my face and Dove shoves a bottle of water toward me.

  “Go lay down, sweetie. I’ll get everything cleaned up. Do you want me to stay with you tonight in case you get sick again?” Grits says, her hand still on my back and concern lacing her voice.

  I shake my head and open the water to take a sip. “No thank you. I’ll be fine, and you don’t need to clean up my puke, I can do it.”

  “Don’t be silly, get your butt upto bed and we’ll lock up after ourselves,” she says with a grin.

  Nodding, I try to smile but another wave of nausea rolls through me and
with a quick reassuring glance at Dove, I head upstairs. I crawl into my bed fully clothed and pull the throw over me. Dragging in a long lungful of air I pray for the nausea to pass. Closing my eyes, I focus on my breathing, in and out, in and out. Before I know what’s happening, a wave of lethargy overtakes me and I fall asleep.

  When I wake up, it’s still dark and my mouth feels dry and tastes disgusting. Twisting my head, I exhale in relief when I see Cam fast asleep in bed next to me. I’d hoped earlier he had understood what I’d been trying to tell him, but with Park interrupting us I was worried that I might have made everything worse.

  Reluctant to move out of the safety of his arms I take a moment to just look at him. His silvering hair and beard are thick and full and the fine lines at the edges of his eyes make him look distinguished, rather than old, like I’d once accused him of being. It’s at that moment I realize I still don’t know how old he is. How is it possible that we seem to have shared so much without exchanging even the most basic of details about each other?

  I swallow and the taste of vomit fills my mouth. Slowly sitting up I test out my stomach and realize that I feel fine, no nausea at all. Maybe it was something I ate, or too much sun? Carefully, I lift Cam’s arm and climb out of bed, quietly tiptoeing to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. Thirsty, I creep downstairs and across the kitchen tiles to the refrigerator. Jock trots over and I bend down to give him a quick fuss. “Hey, baby.”

  I grab a cold bottle of water and open the lid, taking a long gulp of the refreshing liquid. My stomach growls loudly and I suddenly feel incredibly hungry. I reach for a plate of leftover chicken and pull out the fixings for a sandwich.

  “What you doing, Duchess?” Cam asks from behind me.

  I jump, startled, and spin to face him, my hand covering my heart. “God, you scared me,” I exhale loudly, and my eyes widen when I take in an almost naked Cam. Wearing only boxer briefs he’s framed in the doorway and my mouth waters with desire—he’s perfect. Covered in tattoos and with the body of a man in his twenties, my body urges me to go to him, but now that we’re here and talking, I can’t seem to take the first step to him, so instead I say. “I’m hungry. I was just making a sandwich, you want one?”

  Cam looks at me for a moment, his eyes intense and locked on mine. Then he crosses the room, walking straight past me and pulls two plates from the cupboard. “What do you want on yours?” he asks.

  “I can do it,” I say, my voice small.

  He turns earnest eyes on me and I bask in the way he’s looking at me. “I know. But you’ve been sick, let me take care of you.”

  Tears start to burn in my eyes, but I blink them away. “Okay,” I whisper.

  Even though his back is to me, I see the tension melt from his shoulders. “Chicken Salad, okay?” he asks.

  “Perfect,” I whisper.

  A few minutes later Cam carries two plates over to the breakfast bar and we each slide onto a stool. His knee brushes up against mine and I sigh in relief just from the slightest of touches. “Thank you,” I say quietly, looking down at the sandwich in front of me.

  “You’re welcome,” he says, his voice amused.

  We both eat in silence for a moment, then I blurt. “How old are you?”

  Cam slowly turns his head to look at me. “What?” he asks.

  “I don’t know how old you are,” I say, my voice shrill and slightly panicky.

  “Does it matter?”

  “No, not really but I still feel like I should know.”

  He chuckles. “I’m forty-four.”

  “Oh. Wow, okay.” My sandwich is forgotten as I turn to fully face him. “Do you have any family? Any kids, or anything?”

  All the amusement falls from Cam’s face. “What’s all this about, Nikki?”

  My fingers grip onto the edge of the breakfast bar tightly and I lean forward on my stool. “I don’t know any of the basic stuff about you. Like, I have no idea if you have brothers and sisters, or if you’re allergic to anything. I have no idea how you take your coffee, or what kinds of music you like. I don’t know you and it’s freaking me out.”

  Cam’s strong hands lift to cup either side of my cheeks. “Duchess, calm the fuck down.”

  “No, I don’t need to calm down.”

  “Yes, baby you do. To answer your questions: yes, I have family. My parents live out in Florida in a retirement village. I don’t have any siblings or kids. I like my coffee black. I like all kinds of music except crappy pop, and I’m not allergic to anything.”

  My racing heart starts to slow, and I begin to relax.

  “Feel better now?” He asks.

  I nod my head and turn back to my sandwich. Lifting it to my mouth I take a bite and then another, but as my stomach start to churn, I lower it to my plate and make a dash for the sink to bring it all back up.

  Cam is immediately at my side, pulling my hair back and rubbing soothing circles on my back. When the vomiting finally stops, he hands me a bottle of water and I swill my mouth, taking a grateful drink of the cold liquid.

  Strong hands lift me onto one of the stools, and then I watch as he quickly cleans up my kitchen. “You’re sick, Duchess. Let’s get you back to bed,” he says, holding out a hand for me to take.

  I don’t hesitate before I place my hand in his and let him lead me back up the stairs and into bed. He strips my dress over my head and removes my bra and then pulls his soft cotton t-shirt back over my head and lifts me into bed. The moment he carefully cradles me in his arms, I sink into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  The next morning, I wake up alone. A deep painful throb stabs into my soul until I spot a note on the bedside table. I grab for it, my fingers fumbling with the paper as I try to unfold it, desperate to find his words.

  Duchess,

  Sorry I’m not there to see you wake up and make sure you’re alright.

  I have a meeting this morning that I can’t miss and no one else can take my place.

  I hope you feel better, but either way your ass stays in bed today! I mean it, baby, and I’m sending your sister round to keep an eye on you and make sure you’re doing as you’re told.

  I’ll see you later.

  Cam x

  Warmth and hope rockets through me. Last night I’d let him take care of me and it was nice. It was only small things, but he made me feel safe and protected and like it was okay to let someone else help.

  I carefully refold the note and add it to the others he’s written me in the drawer of my bedside table. Then I tentatively climb out of bed. I wait for sickness to rise up, but I feel fine, tired but fine, so I use the bathroom, grab my robe, and head downstairs.

  Switching on the coffee machine, I set it to start, and push open the French doors. Jock wags his tail excitedly as he scurries into the yard to relieve himself. The warm fresh air permeates the room and I pour myself a cup of coffee and head out onto my patio to drink it.

  Grits and the guys must have tidied everything away last night, as my patio is clean, and even the fire pit has been emptied and filled with fresh logs. I choose a seat in the shade and sit down, then I pull up the email app on my cell and scroll through the new messages, flagging the ones I’ll need to reply to urgently.

  My doorbell rings and I pad back into the house to answer it. “Hey, Sissy, how you feeling?” my sister asks, as she pulls me in for a careful hug.

  “I feel fine this morning, must have just been a twenty-four-hour thing.”

  She follows me back to the patio and sinks down next to me on the couch. “Blade told me to make sure you stay in bed today,” she says, scowling at me.

  I groan. “I feel fine. I’m not staying in bed.”

  We spend the rest of the day in the shade of my patio, chatting about her classes, my work, and every other subject, except for me and Cam. I’m grateful that she didn’t grill me about our relationship, or non-relationship, because truthfully I still have no idea what I’d say if she asked.

  As much as I’
ve enjoyed my sister’s company, I’m almost grateful when Daisy picks her up just before dinner. Waving from my doorstep, I watch them ride away on Daisy’s bike and then close the door with a weary sigh. I no longer feel sick, but an overwhelming lethargy hits me the moment I’m alone and I head across the hall and into my beautiful new living room. The couch calls enticingly to my exhausted body and I groan in relief when I sink into the plush fabric cushions.

  Sleep beckons me, but I try to resist. I don’t have time to be ill, but it looks like my body has other ideas. Sliding further into the cushions, I lay my head on the arm of the couch—promising myself that I won’t sleep, I’ll just rest my eyes for a minute—when my cellphone rings.

  I try to pull the cell from my pocket, but my hands are slow and heavy. Eventually I manage to free it and check the caller ID before swiping the screen to answer. “Hi, Grits,” I say.

  “Hey, baby girl, how are you feeling?”

  “I’m okay,” I say, yawning. “I’m just really tired, I think maybe I got too much sun yesterday or something.”

  “Yeah, maybe. Do you need anything?”

  “No, I’m fine. But thank you. I’m just gonna have a quick nap, I can’t seem to keep my eyes open.”

  “Okay, sweetie. Get some rest. I’ll pop round to see you in the morning. But promise you’ll call me if you need me.”

  “I will, I promise,” I say, my eyes closing even while I’m speaking.

  “Bye,” she says.

  “Bye,” I say mid yawn, dropping my cell to the couch. Moments later I’m asleep.

  “Duchess,” Cam calls, gently shaking me.

  “Hi,” I say sleepily, one eye cracking open.

  “You still sick?” he asks, his brows drawn, concern filling his face.

  “No,” I say and then yawn. “Just tired.”

  “Let’s get you to bed then, baby,” he says, as his strong arms wrap around me. He lifts me from the couch, cradling me to his chest and I inhale his uniquely Cam scent as I curl into him and fall back to sleep.

  When I wake up the next morning I’m alone, but there’s a note waiting for me and I smile brightly as I reach for it.