20. Cami
Cami
Am I Okay? By Megan Moroney
T he house is quiet by the time I pad out of the bathroom, still drying my hair with a towel and trying not to think about how weird things had gotten at the Black Dog.
We joked. We bantered. Jack almost smiled like he meant it. And then, of course, I went and said something flirty and stupid and walked away before I could face the consequences like a total coward.
It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is totally normal . I roll my eyes at my reflection in the mirror. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”
After I brush my hair and wash off the bar air, I tug on my favorite sleep set—gray cotton shorts and a tank top that doesn’t try to be sexy but absolutely is.
Then I tiptoe down the stairs and out onto the back porch, careful about the creaky floorboards and waking Jack, who’s probably brooding in his sleeping bag upstairs like a sad little cowboy .
Love lifts her head from the couch as soon as I step onto the porch.
“There you are, fuzzball,” I whisper, crouching to scratch behind her ears. She huffs and flops into my lap as I drop onto the wicker couch and pull the faded blanket around us. “You missed all the drama at the bar.”
She blinks up at me with her concerned warm brown eyes.
I sigh. “Fine. I’ll fill you in. Jack was doing this broody stare thing every time Beau opened his mouth.”
Love thumps her tail once, like she knows exactly who I’m talking about.
I look up at the stars, trying to ignore the warm flutter in my chest that always comes with thoughts of Jack. “It’s getting worse, Love. Like, dangerous worse.”
She tilts her head.
“I mean, did you see him in that henley last week? That thing clung to his arms like it was scared of being left behind.”
Another tail thump.
“And tonight at the bar? When he leaned over to take that pool shot? I swear to God, I almost asked him to take me right there on the pool table. He’s going to ruin me.”
Love paws at me. I swear she’s judging me harder than a therapist would.
I lean my head back against the cushion, staring out over the moonlit pasture. “The worst part is, he has no idea. Zero. He looks at me like I’m this walking, talking tornado and still shows up anyway. And I just—” I blow out a breath. “I’m falling for him so hard it’s stupid.”
Behind me, the floor creaks in the kitchen.
I tense. And then… footsteps. Slow. Bare. And then… “Someone used up all the hot water.” Jack’s voice. Low. Sleep-rough.
I turn my head and freeze. There he is. In the doorway. Dripping. Glowing in the moonlight like some kind of vengeful ranch god. And wearing…Only. A. Towel. Just a towel.
My brain shuts down for a full three seconds.
His hair is wet and messy, curling slightly as water drips down his forehead. His chest is all shadows and sculpted heat, and the damn moon reflects off him like it has a personal grudge against my self-control.
“Oh,” I squeak. “Hi.”
His eyes narrow slightly. “Are you talking to the dog about me?”
“No.”
Love barks.
“Love,” I mutter.
Jack crosses his arms over his chest, which did nothing to help the situation. If anything, it made his biceps flex in a way that should’ve required a warning label.
I slap a hand over my face. “God. How long were you standing there?”
“Long enough to hear you compliment my henley.”
“Well,” I say weakly, “it’s a nice shirt.”
He steps forward, the porch board creaking under his foot. The towel shifts slightly, and I nearly choke on my own tongue.
“Cami.”
“Nope.” I huff.
“What?” he murmurs.
“Whatever you’re about to say, I can’t handle it while you’re looking like that and dripping all over my emotional instability,” I tell him, but I’m mortified he heard all of that.
My cheeks feel hot, my palms grow sweaty, and my stomach is full of butterflies.
I wish I could crawl under this blanket and take it back from him hearing that.
And I know he won’t let me run and hide. He’s having this out now. Right now.
“You were also saying something about pool. And taking you right there on the table?” He grins, and something about those words repeated back to me makes me squirm even more under the blanket.
“I didn’t know you had a thing for wet cowboys.”
“Jack, I am one weak moment away from making a really bad decision and blaming it on moonlight and your lack of clothing.”
He smirks. “Noted.”
Love chose that moment to hop off my lap and trot inside, abandoning me to the full wrath of my own thirst.
Jack raises an eyebrow. “You said you were falling for me.”
“I also said you’d ruin my life,” I say, pulling the blanket over my face. “Let’s not forget that gem.”
He takes another step closer. “Is that… a serious offer?”
I peek at him from under the blanket. “Do you want to ruin my life?”
He looks at me, something in his eyes, something soft and unguarded, that makes my heart stutter.
“I don’t want to ruin your life, Cami,” he says softly.
Oh.
He dropped down beside me, still holding the towel in place with one hand like we weren’t in the middle of a scene straight out of my most unhinged fantasies. “I want to be in your life.”
I stare at him. “You’re not wearing pants.”
He smirks. “That’s what you took from that?”
I turn toward him, blanket still clutched to my chest like it might protect me from my own feelings. “I’m distracted. And you’ve been avoiding being near me. You barely look at me. Then you glare like I’ve betrayed you if I even smile at Beau. I have emotional whiplash, Jessop.”
“I glare at everyone,” he says casually. “It’s part of my charm.”
“I thought you were mad at me. ”
“I was mad at myself,” he says. “For not saying something sooner.”
“Well, now I’ve said something. Loudly. To the dog. While you were lurking half-naked like a ghost of shirtless cowboys past.”
He chuckles again. “It was a really nice speech.”
“Oh my God,” I groan.
“And for the record,” he adds, voice dropping just slightly, “I would have made you come so hard on that pool table. All you would have had to do was ask.”
I forget how to breathe.
His eyes flick to my lips. And then…nothing. He stands.
“Goodnight, Cami.”
I blink. “Wait, what? That’s it?”
“I’m not going to kiss you while I’m in a towel. That feels like something out of a spicy romance novel.”
“I love spicy romance novels!”
He grins, all smug and maddeningly confident. “Then you’ll love what happens next.”
He snaps off the towel and drops it on my chest. And with that, he turns and walks back inside. And the view does not disappoint.
I stare after him, heart hammering, face on fire, and brain completely offline.
Love trots back out, glances up at me, and drops her head back onto my lap with a sigh.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I mutter. “I blacked out. That wasn’t my fault. And you ratted me out. Don’t think I forgot that.”
Upstairs, Jack’s bedroom door creaks shut, and the thud hits me in my core.
I smell the damn soap on his towel .
I roll my eyes at the way my body reacts to that man. He’s so infuriating… and so damn sexy.
“Goodnight, Love,” I say to my Judas of a dog and make my way to my bedroom. Flopping down onto the bed, I turn my head and stare at the nightstand, and I swear the silicone inside has turned on by itself. Stupid phantom buzzing.
“I can’t,” I whisper into the quiet room. “Can I?”
Reaching over, I slide the drawer open and feel around blindly until my hand wraps around the only cock I’ve had in a very long time.
Looking at it with a mixture of contempt because it isn’t Jack and hunger because it’s something , I shrug and burrow under the blanket.
“Fuck it,” I say as I push the button and close my eyes.
The bonfire crackles in the field behind the barn, sending sparks spiraling into the air like tiny fireflies.
It’s a “casual night” for filming, which means the contestants had been told to dress casually and pretend they knew how to roast marshmallows. There are hay bales, throw blankets, and lanterns hung from fence posts, and a full camera crew lurks just out of the frame.
I stand near the edge of it all, clutching a mug of hot cider like it might save me from my bad thoughts.
Those of which are currently parading around in tight jeans and perfectly curled hair, trying to get Jack’s attention while he leans up against a fence post and looks like that .
He’s wearing faded jeans, dusty boots, and a flannel shirt that I might plot to steal later.
One of the contestants leans in, laughing and brushing invisible lint off his arm.I bite my tongue so hard I taste copper.
He doesn’t pull away. But he does glance past her.At me.And it isn’t a casual glance. It’s a loaded one.
The kind that says “I see you. Get me out of here.I feel like I can't breathe.”
Love nudges my leg, sensing my complete inner collapse. I kneel to pet her and whisper, “He’s going to kill me with that face.”
She licks my hand as if she agrees.
“Hey,” Poppy says, appearing at my side with her own cider. “You okay?”
“Define okay,” I reply.
“You’re watching Jack like he’s on a dessert cart, and you’re on a juice cleanse.”
I groan. “Do I look that obvious?”
“Yes. But in a cute, slow-burn-rom-com way.” She shrugs. “You can make it work.”
“He’s doing it on purpose,” I complain.
“He absolutely is," Poppy agrees.
I glance back over, which is a mistake because now he's laughing at something one woman says, but his eyes are still locked on me .Like he doesn’t care who’s standing next to him.Like he only cares about me.
Poppy grins. “Oh yeah. He’s one step away from body-checking someone into the fire pit to get to you.”
I harumph.
“Why don’t you just go over there?”
“Because I’m trying to be chill," I say.
“You’re about one eyebrow raise away from setting the barn ablaze. There is nothing chill about you right now. Absolutely nothing."
I sigh and take another sip. The cider isn't helping. It's not even distracting me.