Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
CAMILLE
Istare in the bar bathroom’s mirror. The drowned rat look is waning as my hair has mostly air dried, but it’s the cut Nora applied a butterfly stitch bandaid on, the light bruising growing around the wound, and the sunken fear still lingering in my eyes that cause me to pause.
Having dry, warm clothes on helps ground me back to myself. My eyes catch the Ridge Dive Bar sweatshirt sitting on the corner of the sink. It’s his. It smells like him.
I shake my head. He even smells the same.
At sixteen, I had the biggest crush on my brother’s best friend.
At eighteen, I thought myself to be in love with him.
Stupid teenager bullshit we feed ourselves.
He got distant, and I left for college. Looking back, I did care for West Hunter, but it was a mix of familial love and the idea of romantic love.
But watching him grow into the man he is, I knew I’d never settle for less. That was until I grew lonely, and Brian was one hell of an actor. Charming, charismatic. If I’m honest with myself, he reminded me of West.
I stare at my reflection, focused on nothing but the memory of my eighteenth birthday. My parents invited anyone they saw in town all month. The backyard was decked with lights, balloons, so much food, and drinks. Half the Hunters showed, including his parents.
West walked in with my brother, and I’ll never forget the way he paused mid-step and looked at me. For the first time, I felt he saw me, not just his best friend’s little sister, but the woman I was becoming. Then he ignored me all day and stayed away for weeks.
That one look haunted my dreams. His keeping his distance haunted my nightmares. Perhaps, a still emotionally immature Camille was kind of in love with West Hunter.
It’s been eight years. I’ve only had glimpses of him the few times I’ve come home for the holidays since. Ironic how significant events in your life don’t come to mind until years later.
I was a senior in college when I came home for Christmas, and I saw him. In town, with a girl on his arm. He stopped her on the sidewalk and kissed her. My heart and a naive dream broke that day.
I returned to Silver Lake after the New Year and soon after met Brian.
I shake my head at that revelation.
“Stupid, impulsive Camille,” I whisper.
I stare at the hooded sweatshirt, debating. I fear that once I put this on, the teenage girl with the unrealistic crush will rear her delusional head again. Absurd if I say it out loud, but in my head, I believe it.
“I never said I was smart,” I mutter, grabbing the soft, well-worn fabric and putting it on.
Pine, sandalwood, and something earthy, like fresh grass after a morning shower, hit me all at once.
“Damn it. I’m gonna end up stealing this,” I confess to myself.
I brace myself with a fortifying breath before I head back to his office. West is at his desk, typing something into the computer until he sees me and freezes mid-type. Those rare eyes pan down my frame, and it sends an automatic shiver down my spine.
Oh God, please don’t look at me like that, West.
I’m eighteen again. It’s the look. The one that’s haunted me.
He clears his throat and abruptly stands.
“So, here’s the plan,” he starts. “You’re staying with me tonight. Until we know where the MC is, we can’t risk them finding you at your parents.”
I would argue, but he’s right.
“Does Styx even know you were on your way home? Your parents expecting you?” he asks.
“No. It was supposed to be a surprise.”
He nods. “That works in our favor then. Tomorrow, when we wake up, we’ll decide how to move forward. Is that okay?”
“You don’t have to get involved, West. I hadn’t meant to drag you into this.”
He steps from around the desk and stops right in front of me. I crane my neck back to look up at his six-foot-two stature. Even all grown up, this man is tall as hell for my five-foot-three ass.
“Goodness, Nyx. Your ass is still tiny,” he chuckles.
“I was just thinking how your ass is still giant.”
He grins, and there goes my vagina doing a happy dance. Trouble, trouble, trouble.
He gets serious again. “You may not have meant to fall into my arms in my bar—,”
“I didn’t fall into your arms, West.”
There’s that dangerous-to-my-libido grin again. “You practically leaped into my chest, Nyx.”
“I was running for my life, one, and two, what’s with this Nyx business?”
He hesitates for a second, then says, “You’re like a dark little pixie. Feels appropriate.”
“I prefer goddess over pixie.”
His shoulder shrugs. “Why can’t you be both?”
A thrill of goosebumps materializes as the idea of West seeing me as a goddess of the night settles in.
Is he attracted to me? No way. Can’t be. Right?
The longer we stand facing each other in silence, the more charged the air between us feels.
My eyes go to that mouth surrounded by his short beard.
His naturally dark pink-stained lips and that lower lip, specifically, larger, more plump.
I literally had dreams where I sucked and nibbled that lip. Then woke needing my vibrator after.
“Nyx,” his deep voice grumbles.
My eyes stay on that lower lip. “Hmm?”
“I need you to stop looking at my mouth like that.”
I’m slightly panting as my core tightens. Am I getting my period? I get extra horny during the first phase of my period.
“Shit,” he groans, tucking his finger under my chin and forcing my eyes back to his. “Little Pixie, you’re being a brat. You’re my best friend’s sister.”
“Nyx, Little Pixie. Which is it?” I ask, needing this interaction like I need air. Anything to cast out tonight’s darkness.
That finger still holds my head as he includes his thumb at my chin. “Nyx, all the time,” he says quietly, like it’s a sacred secret between just us. “Little Pixie, when my hand itches to redden your ass for tempting me.”
My breath hitches, shock rushing through my body.
Holy shit. We just massively walked over an invisible line I didn’t even know we were anywhere near. His eyes wage war. I see the flickering between heat and worry that he’s said too much.
Desperate to keep us in this existence a while longer, I grow brave.
I take the one step that kept our bodies from touching.
He sucks in a breath when my chest meets his torso.
I rest my hands low on his hips, digging my fingers in slightly, just enough that even through his jeans, he feels the pressure.
“We need to stop,” he says all of a sudden, but I refuse to break this momentary spell.
Looking for anything in my arsenal, I light up inside when I find it. “Remember the summer after my eighteenth birthday, when I wore that light blue bikini at the lake?”
His eyes close, torture edging his features. “You were eighteen, Camille. I wouldn’t look.”
“I was legal, West, it’s okay if you admired my ass in my thong,” I tease.
Something snaps. One second, I’m standing toe to toe with him, the next instant, his arm wraps around my waist, lifts me off my feet, turns us, and sets my ass down on his desk, bringing my face a little higher.
Then, he rests his fists on the desk and leans in so we’re face to face. “Quit it. This isn’t a game, Camille.”
“What happened to Little Pixie?” I challenge.
“That was out of line. Forget I said it.”
“Like hell I will.” I grab the collar of his flannel and pull him closer.
So close, our lips are a touch away. “I’m not a kid, West Hunter.
I’m a woman in her late twenties. Our age difference was stark as children.
Now, we’re equals. So, don’t treat me with kid gloves.
Be honest. Say what you mean or don’t say anything at all. Got it?”
I have no clue what is happening between us right now, but what I do know is, if he feels like flirting and it’s just a fleeting thing, then fine.
I can handle that. Hell, I’ll even flirt back.
But, I’ve had enough of men lying, manipulating, or just filtering what they mean because to them, I’m lesser.
The fists on the desk flatten out. One hand comes to rest on my cheek. His thumb caresses my skin by my temple, where I got banged up. His eyes focus there. The idea that he may revert to babying me sparks my annoyance.
Then he speaks.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Oh. Okay. That’s new. Not from him, but men in general.
“I haven’t seen you, really seen you, in years. I’m processing a lot right now. You, being a woman, a beautiful woman, in front of me. You, still being my best friend’s little sister, who I grew up watching climb trees, snack on string cheese, and cry when her big brother tossed one of her toys.”
Instantly, Drew throwing my Wednesday Adams Lego figure in the lake behind our house comes to mind.
“I told him off for that later, when no one was looking, by the way.”
Another memory hits.
“Wait.” My mind races with different occasions. “I thought my parents fished her out of the lake and left her at my desk.” His expression gives him away. “You,” I whisper.
Even at thirty-six, that boyish manner when he felt shy still comes through.
His mouth twists as he shrugs. “I know how expensive those things are. And you loved your Legos. He was dumb for tossing them.”
We’re back on the other side of the line. The air of flirtation is gone, and I’m suddenly aware of our position. My legs rest at his hips as his body leans in close. We’re practically fused together. Would be too, if other parts were involved.
“It’s been a big night. Big emotions,” he keeps his voice low. “Let’s get to my place, where you can rest. Tomorrow, we figure stuff out.”
I relent and nod. Honestly, I’d like to leave Main Street. I want to be as far from Black Feral as humanly possible.
We slowly peel off the other. I slip off the desk and we quietly and cautiously shut the bar down and leave in his Subaru. Music softly plays in the background as we enter Hunter land and continue up the mountain to West’s place.