Chapter 14

“I haven’t been on a horse since Girl Scouts.” Camryn sat next to Troy on the four poster bed in their room, towel drying her hair from the family’s after-dinner swim. “If I remember right, I couldn’t walk for a week.”

He set the remote aside. One hundred channels and nothing on. “My concern exactly.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “You’re not mad?”

“Should I be?”

He was kind of expecting it, yeah.

She pulled the sheet up to her chest and leaned against the headboard, opening a book from the bedside table. He looked at the name on the back cover, noting his favorite author. She was holding the last book in the series. He wouldn’t have pegged her as a horror fan.

“Is that one any good?”

She kept reading. “It doesn’t have pictures. You wouldn’t like it.”

“Ouch.”

She grinned, but didn’t glance up.

His chest did some kind of strange constriction. Cam didn’t smile much, especially like this. With no one watching, no one to impress, she seemed almost carefree. He wanted more.

Grabbing the paperback from her, he held it above his head. “I read books without pictures.”

Her eyebrows rose, yet she didn’t make a move to snatch it back. “Comic books don’t count.”

“For your information,” he countered, “I’ve read this whole series. Garrett Croft is supposed to die in this one, after the soul of his wife is freed.”

Those crazy huge hazel eyes of hers widened. “He does read.”

“I’m literate, too.”

She laughed, a rustic low sound born of sheer unbidden fantasy, and his heart all but ruptured.

Through a haze of shock and attraction, he could feel the smirk falling from his face, his arm lowering to the bed, but his gaze stupidly darted to her mouth. The source of the wonderful sound. Small, pink. Her bottom lip was a little fuller than the top. He’d never noticed that before.

“Can I have my book please?” Her candid smile still was in place, throwing off his equilibrium.

Face hot, chest tight, he wracked his brain for something else clever to say just to hear that laugh again, but his mind drew a blank. He handed the book back. “You ever read King?”

“Sometimes. Not often. He goes off on too many tangents.”

This time, he grinned. He felt the same way. “What about fantasy or romance? Might loosen you up a bit. Give you some wild ideas.”

An eye roll. “I don’t do wild ideas.”

She didn’t do public displays of affection either, but she’d kissed him in front of the family. Before he could look at her mouth again, remember that kiss, he reached behind his neck and pulled off his shirt. He clicked off the TV and flopped on his back.

“Do you seriously read romance stories?”

He closed his eyes and smiled. “Good sex scenes.”

“They’re as bad as the movies. So unrealistic.”

He opened one eye and looked at her. “And the demons in horror books are realistic?”

Shifting on the bed to sit facing him, she crossed her legs. “Well, no, but that’s obvious fiction. Romance gives people the impression love like that exists.”

Not even she was that jaded. He leaned on his elbows. “Love like that does exist.”

She whipped him an expression of improbability. “Oh, come on. Happily ever after and one true love you can’t live without?”

She was that jaded. It broke his heart a little. Or a lot.

He slowly sat up. “You don’t believe in love?”

Another eye roll. “Of course, I believe in love. I love my family. I’ve been in love. But soul mates and other nonsense? No.”

He couldn’t believe his ears. What had happened to her that she couldn’t trust in miracles and happiness? “Then you’ve never been in love, Camryn Covic. What a shame.”

She pursed her lips.

He shook his head. “Have you never done anything frivolous in your life? Wished on a star, laughed until it hurt, danced in the rain?” Fallen in love for real?

She issued a blank stare as if his question was asinine.

Rising, he walked to the French doors on her side of the bed. Treetops from the forest stirred in the distance to the left, a black silhouette against a navy sky. To the right, the mountains were an inky mass with no discernable shape. There was no rain to dance in, but there were stars aplenty.

“Come here.”

She sighed. “Okay, Troy. I get it. You’re a romantic. Never mind.”

No, she didn’t get it.

He held out his hand. “Come here, Camryn.”

After an epic stare down, she resigned and stood.

He opened the doors and stepped out onto the small stone balcony, large enough for a couple of chairs but little else. He directed her to the chest-high railing to face the open expanse of the Hortons’ yard. Standing behind her, he locked her in place with his arms and held the railing in front of her, the cement rough against his palms. Resting his chin on the top of her head, he breathed deep.

Crisp, clean air, unmarred by smog or manmade pollutants. Pine and snow. Crickets chirped a story below while fireflies blinked across the grass. Nighttime was significantly cooler than the day by a good fifteen degrees. Still pleasant, nonetheless. Hell of a view.

A breeze wafted, and lemongrass filled his nose to replace that of the atmosphere, reminding him of the moment with her in his house just a few days before.

“What are we doing, Troy?”

Breathing. Being silly. His mouth dropped to her ear. “Pick a star.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

She must’ve sensed he wouldn’t let her go until she cooperated. She huffed and pointed above the mountains in the far distance. “That one. Can I go in now?”

“No.” He smiled against her hair. So soft. “Make a wish. Out loud.”

“This is stupid.”

He grinned. “Make a wish, Camryn. For anything.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, so he dropped his hold to her waist. Her t-shirt skimmed the elastic of her boxers, exposing a trace of skin beneath his thumbs.

“Fine,” she said. “I wish I would find a job right away when we get back to Milwaukee.”

Always work with her. Lemongrass filled his nose again, and it was starting to have an effect on him. He cleared his throat. “Pick another star. Make another wish.”

“Troy…”

“Camryn,” he shot back in the same dry tone.

She pointed to their right, and her hair brushed his collarbone. “That one. I wish my family behaves the rest of this trip.”

None of these wishes were for her. Not for something she wanted deep down in that place even she forgot about. Something crazy and unrealistic. “Find another star. Close your eyes and wish to yourself. Something you’ve always desired, but didn’t think you’d get.”

“Like world peace?”

He bit his tongue and shook his head. “For you, Camryn. Make a wish for you. And don’t tell me what it is.”

She looked up, exposing her neck, making her hair dance over his chest.

His jaw clenched as everything south of his abs responded. To her. To Camryn, of all people. He held his breath while his thumbs absently brushed the soft, warm skin under her shirt.

“Done,” she said after a few moments and turned in his arms. “Can we go in?”

“Camryn.” He’d had to force her name through a coarse layer of gravel in his throat, the thin strand of his control tethering. Her eyes widened as she looked at him. Hazel in a sea of blackness. Ginger hair ruffled in the breeze, scented like lemongrass and distinctly her. Porcelain skin with ethereal hues in the moonlight. She was so damn close he could count the few freckles on her button nose. He made a sound, part whimper, part moan. God, no. This was madness. “I’m going to kiss you again.”

Confusion wrinkled her brows. “But no one’s here to see. It’s not necessary.”

“No,” he whispered. “It isn’t necessary. Not at all.” Somehow, it was, though.

His mouth closed over hers anyway, and the faintness of her lips, the scent of her, had the insane part of him wanting more. More than he could give her. More than she would give him.

Nothing had changed from this afternoon. Like a punch to the gut, the contact shocked him. She shocked him. The sheer pleasure and torture. Gentle and unsure, but brooking no argument. Her lips parted against his, her exhalation warm, and as she deepened the kiss this time, he pressed against her. Curves to edges, yet fitting in place. Her fingers dug into his biceps, riling hunger to a whole new plane as his heart thundered behind his ribs, shifting bone. He spread his fingers over her sides, her tummy, so soft under his calloused palms.

How could anyone think her cold? If he had less sense, he’d take her right now. Right here under the moonlight with nothing but a breeze between them. If she hadn’t been the first person in his life to make him feel worthy of love, back when he was an awkward, scared kid just wanting to be left alone…

Damn it. What was he doing?

He tore his mouth from hers and heaved oxygen. Grabbing the railing behind her, he dropped the top of his head to her collarbone and tried to reason with his body to chill the hell out. Dizzying confusion and anxiety and attraction nearly ripped him in two.

Her hand came down on his hair, threading his strands between her fingers. Comforting. A turn on. And not helping him an iota.

His lids slammed shut.

This was not happening. Not. Happening.

He was not, could not, would not have feelings for Camryn.

Walk away. Walk away from her.

“Shit,” he grated and lifted his head, not daring to look her in the eye. He backed up, right into the door, and turned. “Good night, Camryn.”