Chapter 14
I’ve got her number. She will give in and eat.
And I will figure out what that cryptic conversation was about when she said she was fishing in Alaska.
When we hit the cabina, I push open the door, check for intruders, and when I’m satisfied, I motion her inside. “All clear.”
Camile takes up a spot in the center of the room. Her hands fidget nervously with the strap of her backpack.
She was nervous about her belongings earlier. What’s she got in there?
“Sit.”
“I’m not a dog.”
I drop into a chair and rip open the side of the sack of food. “Fuck, these smell good.”
My mouth waters. My eyes widen as I take in the spread. A violent rumble comes from my stomach. “Now this is a feast.”
As I grab three tamales, I give serious thought to throwing off their corn-husk wrappers and shoving them all in my mouth at once.
Impatient, I motion for her to come to the table. “You like tamales?”
“I guess.”
When I stand up and hold her chair out for her, she looks at me with a suspicious frown.
“You don’t know?”
“I’m not sure. I think I’ve had them before.” I scoot her closer to the table, but she leans away from me.
As I take my seat, the feet of her chair scrape on the painted wooden floor. She scoots as far from me as possible. As if two feet of space could keep me away. I’m six-foot-three with a six-six wingspan. I can practically reach all the way across the cabina.
I chuckle. “What’s wrong?”
She makes a face before she sighs out a tired sound. “I’m just in a snit.”
The old wooden chair frame beneath me creaks loudly when I lean back on two legs. When it doesn’t explode, I go back to wondering about Camile.
Her moods are interesting. “Your blood sugar is low.”
Camile drags a hand through her hair, snagging the band that’s holding her ponytail. Waves of dark red curls tumble around her shoulders as she frowns. “Is that what’s wrong with me?”
I get a case of cottonmouth and my fingers get all twitchy. I can smell her shampoo from where I’m sitting. I love apples.
Now I have a new reason to love them even more.
Trying to sound casual takes work. “Of course. You haven’t eaten for most of the day. That’s part of the problem. The other part is that you hate me. The idea of sitting down to break bread with me repulses you.”
I don’t mention that she’s hiding something. That does all kinds of weird things to people.
Her mouth hinges open. Then closes. “That’s a rather presumptive statement.”
“It’s the truth.”
To hell with manners, I’m too damned hungry. I knock one of the corn wrappers off of dinner and shove a whole tamale in my mouth.
With rounded eyes, she clutches her throat. She makes a little sound.
I chew and watch her watch me. Her disbelief is cute.
Dammit, here I go again with the cute antics.
I push one of the tamales her way. “There. Dive in before they get cold. You don’t have to eat it all in one bite.”
After a wry chuckle, she concedes and pulls it toward her. “Thank god I don’t have to imitate that party trick. You must be part large-mouth bass.”
I tilt my head. “Where are you from?”
“Just somewhere in the country.”
“Where?”
“The very tip of Virginia. Not the northern tip. The tiny one in the Appalachian mountains.”
After she says this, she looks very uncomfortable. Like maybe she let too much slip.
I lean in and rest my forearms on the table, filled with curiosity. “FamFind is based in D.C. So, you’re the country girl that left to go to the city for a job, huh?”
She pics at the tamale with the tip of one finger. “Something like that.”
I grab her hand and wrap it around the damned thing. “Eat, for fuck’s sake. You don’t have to act all dainty around me.”
She instantly blushes.
Awareness hits me as I stare at our combined hands wrapped around the food. Heat burns at the base of my cock.
I almost choke on my own tongue. The air is missing when I try to inhale. What’s left is pulsing with electric tension.
With the food just inches from her mouth, she skewers me with her disapproval. “I wasn’t acting all dainty.”
“Then own that fucking thing.”
And god, does she. She makes a little growly sound and chomps onto it, dangerously close to my fingers.
Shiiiiiit.
I swallow a growl. If she was any hotter, my cargo pants would go up in flames.
But I know I’m in trouble when her eyes close and she moans.
What was I thinking?
Can I fuck myself any harder?
I should have let her eat a damned granola bar. She wouldn’t have been moaning about compressed oat shit with dried twigs and berries.
Nope, I did it. Now I get to watch her eyes drift closed as a little smile curves her lips. Her murmured, “So good,” is husky and sexy as fuck.
When I let go of her hand, the remaining part of her tamale falls onto the table with a thud.
She snatches it up and gobbles it down. Messily devouring the rest.
I almost have a cardiac arrest on the spot.
Cheerily, she announces, “Okay, so I was wrong.”
My eyelids are locked low. My retinas are scorched. All kinds of chemical reactions are going off inside my body.
Explosions. Detonations. Dangerous nuclear reactions.
She grabs another tamale from the stack and as she attacks it, she grins at me.
I clear my throat. “You were wrong about what?”
“I’m starving and you couldn’t pay me to eat that snack bar right now.”
A glow of satisfaction forms in my chest. Why do I feel like a caveman that’s successfully hunted and fed his woman?
I shake my head and scowl at the mountain of food on the table between us.
“What’s wrong with you now?”
“Nothing,” I snap.
I proceed to eat ten more tamales. One at a time. Mostly in a single snapping bite.
It’s almost satisfying. If my balls weren”t trying to override my brain.
At least there’s enough food to put me into hibernation for a few hours.
I owe Justice. If he’d have brought me some skimpy ass sandwich, I’d have knocked down his door at two a.m. when my stomach gnawed a hole in my backbone.
Camile eats three.
Not fast. But not slow.
When I finally look at her, there’s a rosy glow to her cheeks and a little smile on her lips.
I reach for her cheek. “You’ve got some on you…” She goes rigid when my thumb brushes away the crumb.
Her eyes squeeze shut as she scrunches her nose. “Mortifying.”
Color builds to a bright cherry red on her cheeks.
“Why are you embarrassed? It happens.”
She looks sheepish. “I ate like a barbarian.”
I lean back and laugh at her. “Sweetie, you couldn’t be a barbarian if you tried.”
She shrugs and gives me a sexy grin. “I don’t know. You haven’t seen me with a turkey leg.”
“Fuck, I love those things. The smoked ones you get at the fair. What about the roasted corn? All that butter dripping down your arm. Man, now that’s good food.”
She jolts and blinks at me. Confusion flashes in her gaze before it is replaced by worry. “Yeah, it is.”
“Speaking of barbarian antics…” I reach for the bottle on the shelf. “The landlord gave me this tequila for booking so many of her units.”
I pull the cork and turn it up for a taste, drinking right out of the bottle like I’ve got no couth.
I close my eyes as it burns a path across my tongue down to join the tamales. “Damn good. This is made locally.”
When I open my eyes, Camile’s staring unblinking at me.
“Want some?”
She practically skitters out of the chair. “No. That’s all yours.”
She breathes at me like she’s been jogging. But it’s the ghosts in her eyes that have me reaching for her.
“Whoa now. You look like I just shot up heroin. Don’t worry, I’m not getting drunk. I won’t be compromised. You’re safe.”
Every bit of color drains away from her cheeks as she flicks her gaze at the floor. The tension builds in her shoulders. It works its way down her arms until she’s clutching her fingers together.
I place the bottle on the table, toss the cork beside it, and grab her chair. Her eyes go wide when I drag her toward me. I don’t stop until she’s close, sitting with her knees between my knees. As soon as I have her where I want her, I tip her chin up.
“Talk.”
She worries at her bottom lip, twists her finger in her hair, and stares at me for a beat. Her eyes are cool now, shuttered, and I know she’s locking me out.
“Thank you for dinner. I should get ready for bed.”
“Oh no. You don’t get to hide from me.”
She makes a little huffing sound. “Please. You forced me to eat, to stay in your place, but you should stop here. Don’t try to force me to talk about something I don’t want to talk about. This is my issue, and it should stay that way.”
When I catch her face in my both palms, her breath speeds and she grabs my wrists. Her fingers are trembling.
Fucking hell. Is she scared?
“Camile, what’s going on?”
“It’s… I just don’t want to talk about it.”
“The tequila?”
She won’t meet my eyes.
“Sweetheart, look at me.”
I don’t want to let go of her. I know she’ll retreat.
“Are you scared of me?”
Eyes closed tight, she breathes in a slow breath. On the equally long exhale, she says, “I have some baggage.”
“I’ll be right back.” After I brush my teeth and rinse with the bottled water I store in the bathroom, I stride back to the table. She’s miraculously right where I left her, looking small and shell-shocked. Not at all like the vibrant, headstrong woman who sat down at the table with me.
I reach for her hands. “Now. As I was saying…”
She squeaks when I drag her into my lap, but she doesn’t put up much of a fight. I settle her against my chest, getting her comfortable.
“Look at the bottle.”
“What about it?”
“Can you see how much is gone?”
A shiver runs down her body. “Yeah.”
“I took a taste. Do you know how much alcohol it takes to affect a man my size?”
“I’m not sure.”
“A lot. I can assure you. But I also want you to know that I never get drunk. I saw the ugly side of that when I was a kid.”
The color is leeching from her face like she’s got a mortal wound.
“Who scared you, Poppy?”
A little sound sticks in her throat. “Beast, don’t. It was a long time ago, and I’m not going back there, ever.”
My arms tighten around her. “Your father?”
When she goes plank-stiff, I get my answer.
I hold her tighter as my blood starts to burn with a dangerous hunger for revenge. “Where is that fucker?”
Her body sags. “In prison,” she replies softly.
“Which one?”
Her breath catches, but she turns to look at me.
We’re inches apart. Our exhales mingle.
Her pretty hazel eyes flicker. “Why do you want to know?”
When I don’t reply she shivers and pulls back. “You look murderous.”
“I’m glad you see how serious I am about wanting to know where he is.”
“Don’t.” The tip of her tongue skitters across her lower lip. “It’s not worth it. He’s getting his punishment for a life of destruction.”
“Is anything but death a just punishment for a man that beats his child?”
A tornado of emotion surrounds her. When her chin trembles, part of me cracks open.
“How did you know?” she asks in an eerily monotone voice.
I roughly tug her against my chest and bury my face in her hair. I can’t do more than whisper, “I just know.”
Dark anger swirls deep inside me. The horrific memories are never far.
I don’t want them to be.
So, I cling to the feel of her, her warmth. The smell of apples on her hair. She is a tether to the here and now as my insides threaten to go up in flames.
That coal needs to smolder.