To Get Me to You

by Kait Nolan

  “Never know until you try. You could start by going to rescue her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman look terrified of dancing with Tucker before. That’s a really impressive use of multiple left feet.”

  Seeing his very nosy cousin returning with pitchers and glasses, Cam saluted Tyler and made his escape. The choice at the jukebox was easy. He made his selection and wove his way through the crowd just in time to keep Norah from crashing into another couple, as Tucker’s attempted spin completely got away from him.

  “This is an intervention. You’re turning this poor woman into a weapon. Go get a beer.”

  “I tried…to tell you…I can’t dance. Seriously.”

  Tucker held up his hands in surrender. She started to follow him back to the table, but Cam caught her neatly around the waist and spun her into his arms as the music he’d chosen began to play. “My turn.”

  She angled her head, listening to the music. “The Dance? Really?”

  “Seemed appropriate.”

  “Is this meant to be romantic or a guilt trip?”

  “Neither. It’s nostalgic. Some things really are simple. Come here.” As he had New Year’s Eve, Cam nudged her head toward his shoulder.

  She didn’t fight him. Her body curved toward his as if just as starved for contact as he was. How had it only been a month since he’d held her? It felt like years. As they circled the floor, the tension he’d noted when he’d walked in bled away, leaving her warm and pliant in his arms. He didn’t think of the town, didn’t think of the campaign, or the fact that after tomorrow she could be leaving. He thought only of how right she felt pressed against him and that he’d do almost anything to keep her there.

  When Norah lifted her head, her face was flushed, her eyes over-bright. Cam didn’t want to move, didn’t want to let her go, but the music swung into something upbeat. Around them, patrons formed into lines and launched into a grapevine.

  “Let’s step outside for some air.” There were things he wanted—needed—to give voice to, and the middle of a crowded dance floor wasn’t the place.

  She nodded once and let him guide her with a hand at the small of her back toward the back door. By grace of the frigid temperatures, the porch designated for outdoor dining and smoking was empty. Norah went straight to the railing and leaned against it, lifting her face to the sky. Cam resisted the urge to move in behind her, boxing her in, and instead leaned beside her, his arm brushing hers.

  “I miss simple.” She sighed and tipped her head against his arm. “I miss you.”

  He hadn’t expected the admission and credited lowered inhibitions due to the Three Furies. “You don’t have to. I’ve been right here the whole time. And for all your talk, you haven’t gone anywhere, not yet.”

  “But I will. Not tomorrow. Probably not next week. I don’t know when I’m leaving. But I have to start taking control of my life again. If that conversation with my father did anything, it lit a fire under me to finally start facing the long job search. I can’t keep putting it off.”

  Nothing had changed. After all these weeks, all her involvement in the community, she still didn’t think she belonged here. He was losing her, back to the life she’d come here to escape. Because he was perilously close to begging, Cam kept his mouth shut, fisting both hands around the railing until the wrought iron began to creak.

  She mistook the reason for his silence. “I promise you, I won’t go until Wishful is safe. And I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

  He believed her. And cursed himself for wishing more danger on his town, just so she’d stay.

  If he said nothing now, if he let her walk away, he’d regret it for the rest of his life.

  Cam turned her to face him. “Isn’t it worth grabbing whatever happiness we can, while we can?” He could feel the pull between them, always the pull.

  She leaned toward him, yearning written clearly on her face. But mixed with it was equal parts sadness and resignation. “It isn’t about happiness.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because there are bigger things at stake.”

  “I get that you’ve got this mission, this purpose. I support that. Hell, I asked you to take it on. But that doesn’t mean you can’t take something for yourself. Even Wonder Woman had Steve Trevor.”

  “You’re no Steve Trevor.”

  Before Cam could process the insult of that, she was reaching up, cupping his jaw. “Steve Trevor didn’t recognize what was right in front of him. You actually see me.”

  What he saw was a brilliant, beautiful woman with an inexplicably fast hold on his heart and a mule-headed resistance to taking it. He turned his face into her touch, needing the connection.

  Her thumb traced the arch of his cheek. “Do you know how rare that is?”

  Cam covered her hand with his. “Do you know how rare this is? Don’t you think it’s worth hanging on to?”

  “Campbell.” She swayed toward him. “I…”

  He might’ve said any number of things to try to persuade her, or he might’ve just given in and kissed her, as he’d wanted to do pretty much since the moment he’d stopped. But Fate, cruel bitch that she was, had other plans in the form of his meddling cousin, who came barreling out the door like an overgrown golden retriever.

  Mitch drew up short, his mouth dropping open as he took in their embrace in a glance. “I…uh…just came to say the food’s ready. And Miranda’s here.”

  “Great. I’m starved.” Norah tapped Cam’s cheek gently. “Thanks for the dance, Leonidas.” She stepped away from him with the grace that completely eluded her on the dance floor and made her way to the door with the careful deliberation of the inebriated.

  “You got it okay there, sugar?”

  She gave Mitch a thumbs up and the door swung shut behind her.

  Cam started to follow, to make sure she got through the dancing throng safely—thumbs up be damned—, but Mitch slapped a palm against his chest. “Hold it. What was that?”

  “That was none of your business.” He tried to push past, but for all his general good humor, Mitch was bigger, broader, and when he didn’t want to be moved, he couldn’t be without considerably more force than Cam was prepared to use.

  “You’ve got a thing for Norah.”

  “Congratulations, you have eyes in your head.”

  “Eyes enough to see that was not a casual flirtation.”

  “You got a problem with that, cuz?” Cam knew Mitch found Norah attractive, but he’d assumed the flirtation was the same knee-jerk reaction his cousin had to most women. He wasn’t worried about competition—Norah had made it perfectly clear where she stood—but Mitch didn’t know that.

  “No.” And there was nothing of Mitch’s usual playfulness in his tone. “Are you okay?”

  “Am I—what?”

  “Norah’s a sweetheart, but a shoot down is a shoot down, and I know you haven’t really been interested in anybody in a long time.”

  He thought she wasn’t interested. Cam almost laughed. Lack of interest he could deal with. If this whole thing was legitimately one-sided, he’d just accept and move on. No harm, no foul. But she was balking out of…what? Some principled bullshit that if it couldn’t last, it wasn’t worth pursuing at all? Did she think they could just turn it off like a switch?

  Well, if she had, it wasn’t working. For either of them.

  “Cam?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  And there it was. That Look. That careful, piteous look his entire family had been using since Melody walked away years before. Because they all thought she’d broken something in him and had adopted a standard operating procedure of treating him with kid gloves when it came to women and relationships. It drove Cam batshit crazy.

  As Mitch stared him down, a sick suspicion trickled through Cam’s gut. Had his family infected Norah with that absurdity? It was exactly why Miranda thought they were a bad idea. Had she warned Norah away after he’d blown off her caution at the bonfir
e? Was that at the root of Norah’s reluctance to be with him? Because she thought he was broken, too?

  “I said, I’m fine, Mitch. I don’t need some touchy feely intervention here.”

  This time, when Cam stepped forward, Mitch gave way and let him inside.

  Norah hadn’t made it back to the table. She was, instead, in a line with Piper, Liam, Tucker, and Tyler executing the electric slide with more enthusiasm than skill. At least she didn’t seem in danger of injuring anybody dancing solo.

  From the sidelines, Miranda was staring. “How much has she had to drink?”

  “The Three Furies. Piper’s idea, apparently.” He studied his cousin, wondering if she’d stabbed him in the back in the name of protection.

  “What?”

  Not the time. “C’mon, there’s food.” He gestured toward their booth, then turned and signaled Tucker out on the floor.

  Cam and Miranda slid in on opposite sides of the long table, squeezing to make room for everyone else as they came out of the dancing throng in a pack. As she went to make the single step into the booth, Norah missed and toppled. Cam lunged over, barely catching her before her head cracked against the table. She thumped into his chest, hands clutching at his shoulders.

  “Whoa there. I’ve gotcha.”

  She looked up from her perch, and her eyes were huge. “Sorry. It’s the boots,” she said, very seriously. “Piper wouldn’t let me wear mine.”

  “Pretty sure it’s not just the boots. I think you’re officially cut off.” He righted her so she could crawl into the booth beside him.

  “No.” Norah jabbed a finger into his chest for emphasis. The gesture seemed to distract her a bit, as she flattened her hand over his heart and frowned. “I cut myself off. That’s totally the problem. Being cut off sucks.”

  “Yes, yes it does.”

  She lifted her eyes to his again, resolute and clearly very, very drunk. “I told you. Is the responsible thing to do.”

  “So you did.” Whatever composure she’d managed to cobble together out on the patio was eradicated. Apparently the full force of the shots had hit her somewhere out on the dance floor.

  “Tell you a secret.” She leaned in, bracing herself on Cam’s shoulder as she tried to tuck one foot beneath her on the seat. “I really hate being the responsible one all the time. But I’m really, really good at it. Can’t let anybody else pay for my mistakes. No, sir.” She hiccuped.

  “I’m pretty sure you’ll be paying for this one in the morning.”

  “Jesus, Piper, did you really have her do the Three Furies on an empty stomach?” Miranda demanded. “She never has more than one drink. Ever.”

  “What? She’s totally fine.”

  “No, really, I am.” Norah, finally seated, balanced with one hand on Cam’s thigh—Jesus—as she leaned in to grab a French fry. “Piper was right. I tooootally needed to take a break.”

  “I’m pretty sure you need to be mainlining some water,” Miranda said. “Or you’ll be flirting with the fourth Fury in the form of a massive hangover in the morning.”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  Norah applied herself to the task with the same single-minded focus she applied to everything. She dutifully ate and drank everything pushed on her, staying quiet as conversation flowed around her and the others got up, now and then, to dance some more. Cam assumed her silence had more to do with the topics of conversation—local gossip about people she didn’t know—until he felt a weight heavy against his arm.

  “And that would be the other reason she never has more than one,” Miranda said. “She falls asleep. She almost never stops, so when something does finally knock her on her ass, she stays down.”

  Because no one takes care of her. When she’d cut things off, he’d stopped trying. He regretted it now, seeing the hollows in her cheeks. Had she been sleeping? Eating enough? “She’s been working herself into the ground.”

  “It’s what she does. You give her a war and she’ll fight it, with or without an army. She has more heart and generosity than anyone I know, but it takes a toll on her.” Miranda sighed. “I need to be getting home. I’ve got an early day tomorrow. It’ll take an act of God to wake her up.”

  “Let her sleep. I’ll help you get her home.” Cam reached around and lifted Norah into his arms. She snuggled into him, one arm curling around his neck, the other resting against his chest as she nuzzled into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. It was a childlike motion, trusting and vulnerable. Norah wasn’t a woman who accepted or showed vulnerability, and Cam felt something in him stutter. He needed to take care of this woman. Needed to keep her safe, to make her smile. He just plain needed her. And whether she wanted to or not, she needed him, too.

  Miranda slid out of the booth.

  Resisting the urge to stroke Norah’s hair back or press a kiss to her head, he slid out himself and hoisted Norah up. “Come on, Wonder Woman. Time for you to sleep it off.”

  Chapter 11

  “We officially swept the entire letters to the editor section for the last three days.” Grammy checked a list. “That brings our total to…sixteen.”

  Norah fought to keep her voice level and professional. “Excellent. Are your letter writers prepared to expand the scope? We really want to get the word out regionally. Hit up the papers in Lawley, Oxford, Starkville, all the areas that would be impacted by this change.”

  “I’ll get them started tonight.”

  She paused to guzzle the fresh glass of water Aunt Liz had set out for her. Now if only she had an aspirin the size of Alabama. No one had said a word about the fact that she looked like death—she was good with makeup—but Aunt Liz’s silent solicitude made her wonder if last night’s antics had already spread around town, or at least through the family.

  The front door opened. “Honey, I’m hoooome!”

  Norah held in a groan—something she’d become a champ at since she left the house this morning with one of the worst hangovers of her life—as Mitch strolled, whistling, into the living room. He was one of the last people she wanted to see right now. Along with everyone else who’d been at the Mudcat for her encounter with the Three Furies last night. She was never going drinking with Piper, ever again.

  “Well, hey there, sugar. I didn’t expect you to be up at all today, let alone among the land of the living.”

  “I feel like death warmed over, but I’m not going to shirk my duty because of one supremely bad decision.” She didn’t know for sure what she’d done to embarrass herself beyond that horrific dance with Tucker, but she had dim memories of admitting to Cam that she missed him and then crawling into his lap to sleep. She was really hoping that part was a dream. And then there was the matter of how the hell she’d gotten home. Miranda hadn’t said and Norah hadn’t asked.

  She consulted her notepad. “Next order of business: The coalition’s order of pamphlets and fliers at Poor Richard’s is ready. It needs to be picked up and distributed.”

  Mitch flopped down on the sofa and stretched out his long, long legs. “I should be able to get to that between site visits.”

  “I’ve got the list of who needs to get what,” Aunt Liz said. “If you can bring everything by this evening, I can work on getting that sorted.”

  “Great. The media campaign is going well. I’m scheduled for an interview at the radio station at the end of the week. That, in conjunction with the spot WCBI did with Molly last week about the coalition, is a really great start. We’re getting the word out and, in a lot of cases, are the first side of this many people are hearing. Now we just have to keep it up so we stay at the forefront of people’s minds. I’m still waiting to hear back from WTVA.”

  The front door opened again, and Norah felt her heart leap, knowing it was Cam. A strange mix of emotions swirled through her. Hope that their hard work had paid off, that Wishful was safe. Terror, too, that all this might be over, that her alleged reason for being here was finished, and she would have to make the hard decision about what came
next without the benefit of external factors dictating her actions. That she’d have to walk away from him for real.

  Cam’s face was rigid when he walked into the room.

  Norah was on her feet, across the room to him before she could stop herself. “What?”

  “Read it.” He thrust a wad of papers at her.

  The economic impact report.

  Frowning as he moved off to pace with frenetic irritation, she began to read. Her stomach sank as she hit the second page, but she kept reading, searching for the qualifying argument, the refutation that would’ve signified balanced investigation. It never came.

  “This can’t be right. This contradicts almost everything I’ve read in the literature.

  “The Council voted. I was the lone dissenting voice. GrandGoods’ proposal was approved, and they’re moving forward with the hearing for a special use permit. No one but me is going to vote against it after this.”

  Norah’s mind went immediately to damage control. “That’s a public hearing?”

  Cam’s nod was tight. “Public hearing, but still ultimately a Council vote.”

  “Then we ramp up our efforts to educate the public, get them out to attend the hearing. You need to put in a formal request to the firm who did the evaluation to have them present for the hearing so they can answer questions. We’re going to get a rebuttal by then. We need a second opinion. Someone not hired by Vick.”

  “How? It was a minor miracle this got pushed through in a month. Where the hell do you think you’re going to get a second opinion in a week or two?”

  “I don’t know yet, but I’ll find someone. Have a little—”

  “Faith?” The word was bitter, brittle with lack of belief. “Because that’s gotten us so far up to now.”

  Norah felt the sting of his frustrated dejection. She could see it in the set of his chin, the defeated look in his eyes. God, how could he give up so easily? Was the rest of the town so easily cowed, so devoid of hope? If they were, she was fighting a losing battle, and the enemy wasn’t GrandGoods.