The One That Got Away (3 page)

She
stopped again, turned her head, but didn’t look him in the
eyes. Her gaze hovered just above his chest. Will wanted so
desperately to put his finger under her chin and make her look up at
him. Ah, God, he just wanted to see her smile at him as she used to.
His Cammy had always smiled when he was near. She never avoided
looking at him—like now.

“
Am
I supposed to say hi?” Her voice was a whisper, a scarred sound
that sent a shock of dread into his chest. “Is that right,
Will?” She looked up now, but there was no smile in her eyes,
no sparkle or twinkle that he longed to see. Her gaze was cold, hard,
and no longer innocent.

“
Where
did you go? Why didn’t you come back?” Then she shook her
head and looked at the floor. “Don’t answer that. I’m
sorry. You just caught me off guard.”

Will
watched Cammy as she caught her lips between her teeth. Tension
rolled from her in waves. Her shoulders stiff, but her head bent, the
sight tugged at Will’s heart. Something was distinctly off,
absolutely not right. Will swallowed the ball of panic before it
clawed into his mind.

A
lot can happen in ten years…

“
Look,
maybe we could get a drink—” He stopped talking when
Cammy looked up. Sadness glared back from inside her hazel eyes. Will
stopped breathing.

“
No,
Will. I can’t.” And then she pushed through the pub door
and left his sight.

Chapter
Two

Cammy
staggered through the pub door, closed it with her foot and fell
backwards against it. The force with which her legs shook and her
chest hurt made the idea of walking across the room seem impossible.

He’s
back?

He’s
back
.

How
many times had she dreamed of the moment she would see Will again?
How many times had she envisioned running into his arms and kissing
him with abandon, as she always had?

Millions.

Never—not
once—in all of her imaginings did she think anger would surge
inside her, so strong she almost choked on it. Cammy allowed the
cardboard box to drop to the floor; the peanuts could stay there
while she found her breath—her mind. She closed her eyes and
took a deep cleansing breath. Why had she got so mad? Why had seeing
him made her feel so utterly cross?

Because
you are not what you used to be. Because he reminds you of better
times.

Cammy’s
heart fluttered under her miserable thoughts. She opened her eyes and
scooped up the box. Yeah, that was why. He looked gorgeous, unchanged
from years ago, except for being bigger—bulkier, and definitely
more handsome. Though how he got more handsome was beyond her, he had
always been—and still was, apparently—the best-looking
man she had ever seen. His dark eyes but light hair were still the
same. He looked shaggy and unkempt, so like the teenager she used to
know—and love.

She,
on the other hand, was no longer anything like the girl he had known.

“
Not
a good start to the day.” Cammy lifted the box onto the counter
top and caught her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. God, she
looked a mess. Scruffy hair, no makeup, and… Her eyes dropped
to her scarf. She unraveled it and winced as her scars became
visible. Pink and white against her slightly tanned skin tone—Cammy
hated them, hated what they looked like, hated what they did to her
personality. Hated what they reminded her of.

Thank
God I had my scarf on.

How
would she explain them to Will? Her mind flashed the image of his
surprised smile. He still had the same twinkle in his eyes, the
playful expression that he had reserved solely for her. He had been
such a quiet boy, shy from the way his father had brought him up, but
with her he had always sparkled and laughed.

She
could tell he was happy now, and she couldn’t help but
wonder—with a painful, heavy feeling—if that was due to a
woman. Was he married? Cammy took a deep breath to ward off the ache
that bit the back of her throat at that thought. It had been ten
years, and looking like he did, he was bound to be settled.

Stupid
Cammy…

The
full force of what her life was hit her like a freight train, right
in the heart. She was alone, with not many friends. Her parents had
passed away a few years back. All she had now was the country pub,
and a healthy bank account. Not what she had dreamed of—that
was for sure.

Had
she been waiting for him? The idea seemed ridiculous now: waiting for
ten years—ten whole years—for someone to come back into
her life and sweep her off her feet.

She
looked back up into the mirror and grimaced at what she saw. A woman
alone, scarred and bitter, because she had given her heart to someone
at the age of eighteen—and had never got it back.

Pathetic…

*
* * *

Will
stepped out of his car and looked up at the gold-lettered pub sign.
The old Peacock was just the same as every English pub, with its
large bay windows, pretty brickwork and heavy oak doors—except
for one thing. Cammy.

When
Will had gone back to his bed-and-breakfast hotel he had asked about
the bar, hoping to get some information on Cammy and why she had the
keys to the place. It turned out Cammy was the owner, and had been
for six years.

To
say this surprised Will was an understatement. She had always been a
dreamer, a person Hell-bent on escaping this small village, not
buying the heart of it and setting down roots. Buying a pub was for
chatty, nosy people, not timid women who struggle in social
situations.

Who
was Cammy these days? The things he had learned about her didn’t
fit the image he had held in his mind all these years.

The
woman from the B-and-B had said Cammy was quiet, and always working.
She had laughed when he had asked if she were married, as if it was
an in-joke Will was not privy to. “No. No, Camilia isn’t
married—and I don’t think she’s the sort,”
she had said.

Not
the sort?

She
had been ten years ago; she had talked about her wedding day, and
kids. Why had all that changed?

The
woman in the B-and-B had been a hub of information, about Cammy and
just about every other business owner. She had bleated for hours over
everyone, and it had been a struggle to steer her towards more talk
of Cammy. Will had to admit he was desperate to know more—a man
starved.

And
now he had seen her once, he wasn’t sure he could go for
another ten years without doing so again.

He
had to admit, it was a cold wash of relief to know she was as
unattached as he was. His mind had instantly sent out a whoop of
sound that rattled around his brain, and a buzz of adrenaline to
shoot down his spine.

She
was unattached and still in their old village. With this knowledge,
Will had found no reason not to seek her out again.

He
took one last look up to the sign before he trotted up the step and
through the door. The heat washed over his face, at the same time the
smell of hops and beer stroked his nose. Will loved a good English
pub; especially on a cool winter day. There was no place better to
hole up and relax, and this pub—Cammy’s pub—was
perfect. He didn’t really remember what it had been like all
those years ago when his father used to frequent the place. He had
always imagined it was dark and seedy. This place was nothing of the
sort, and Will imagined Cammy had made it so nice, so lush inside.

He
sauntered up to the bar where a tall man stood chatting to a
local-looking older man. He glanced at Will, finished his joke and
made his way to this new customer, still smiling.

“
What
can I get ya?” he asked. Will noted the man was a similar age
to himself, and he was clearly comfortable behind the bar. Will
couldn’t help the jealous ripple of energy that fizzed down his
spine at the thought of this man being close to Cammy—daily.

She
isn’t married
…

Will
ordered a pint, sat in a stool and took a look around. Dark-colored
wood and traditional colors filled the open space and created a great
atmosphere. There was no juke-box, but there were modern speakers
that played a collection of up-to-date songs. The pub didn’t
smell musty or old; it was clean and well cared for.

The
barman set the beer down and took Will’s money.

“
I-uh-is
Cammy in tonight?” Will asked, still shocked at how strange it
was to finally be saying her name again. Adrenaline surged inside
him, and he had to school his features into something resembling
indifference.

The
barman raised an eyebrow, looked at Will closely and shook his head.
“And you might be?”

Who
was this dick? Her fucking keeper?
Will
scowled as jealousy burned the back of his throat. He took an instant
disliking for the man standing behind Cammy’s bar.

“
An
old friend,” he replied, gripping the cool pint instead of the
guy’s throat, though it took a lot of control. Will absently
wondered if maybe he shouldn’t drink tonight, but his nerves
were running high—and what could one pint hurt?

The
barman got a strange look in his eye, one Will didn’t like; it
said the barman was contemplating lying. And just when Will thought
he might have to jump over the bar and look for her himself, the
barman turned and picked up the phone. Will tried to listen, but the
heavy din of the patrons and the low music playing in the background
made it impossible to hear anything that was said. The barman covered
the receiver and leaned towards Will.

“
Name?”
he barked and Will saw jealousy in his eyes
.
Ah, so Cammy has an admirer. Or maybe a lover?
Something akin to pain jabbed inside Will’s chest and he had to
fight to keep his reaction to his thoughts muzzled. He pushed the
half-finished pint aside and took a deep breath. He had no claim on
her anymore, and it wasn’t as if he had starved himself of
attention in the bedroom department, but still… He was here
now, and the familiar feeling of
mine
had risen the moment he had seen Cammy again. Will was nothing if not
proprietary.

“
Will,”
he said. Cammy would need no more.

The
barman scowled and turned. Will stared at his back, and began to
wonder just what the barman was to Cammy. The scowl had spoken of
jealousy, and the way he turned his back also said the man was
protecting her.
It
looks like I have some competition…

And
when exactly had he decided to rekindle his interest with Cammy?

The
moment he found out she wasn’t married? No. He had never really
thought he wouldn’t come back to get her—had he?

Will
stifled the wince at the knowledge he had never moved on, never once
even tried to. Not one woman had compared to Cammy, not one.

*
* * *

Cammy
put the phone down and stared at the door leading to the pub. She sat
at her large oak desk, the accounts suddenly forgotten, and chewed on
her bottom lip. She knew he would come in tonight; she had known
their meeting in the car-park wouldn’t be the end. If not for
her rude behavior, he might have just followed her then.

It
seemed that in all the years he hadn’t changed. He was as
stubborn as ever—and as gorgeous, and sexy, and…oh what
did it matter? Guilt struck her with a bolt of pain in her chest for
the way she had behaved. It wasn’t his fault her life was a
skeleton of what she had hoped. It wasn’t his fault she was
bitter and lonely…well, at least, not directly.