The One That Got Away (4 page)

Cammy
took a deep breath and stood up, her insides swimming around and her
heart throbbing wildly against her breast bone. He was back.

Still
she couldn’t believe it. For the last six hours she had gone
from being numb and in total shock to actually feeling happy—to
then disappointing herself with the idea he might be married, might
even have kids. She caught the edge of the desk as she stumbled over
some badly placed files on the floor.

She
was a mess; no longer the confident girl he used to know, no longer
the happy-go-lucky person she once was, scarred and damaged in more
ways than physical. Would Will even like her now? Not many did. She
was often called surly and sulky.

She
was neither.

Cammy
was scared and pessimistic. It was not something she had learned to
get over. Could anyone get over what she had endured?

She
lifted her gaze just as her office door handle tilted and the door
opened. Cammy’s heart gave a heavy thud inside her chest and
her mind screamed—Will! But when Chris stepped through the
doorway and into her small, scruffy office, she had to tug her face
into an expression that didn’t show her disappointment.

It
wasn’t Will.

But
he was here, in her bar…

“
Yes,
Chris?” she asked, doing her best to smile. Surly and sulky;
the words hurt, especially because inside she was bright and
friendly. Or, at least, she used to be.

Chris
tilted his head to duck under the hanging light. He was tall and well
built and he made her office feel cramped. He gave her a winning
smile and ran his bar rag through his hands. Chris was lovely, a
couple of years younger than Cammy, but he was a farmer’s lad
and a bloody good barman to boot. He had often showed interest in
Cammy, and if she had been anything like she used to be, she would
have taken him up on his offer many a time. But she was no longer
that Cammy, and therefore she had never accepted his offer.

“
The
barrels need changing, so I could use your help on the bar,” he
hedged. Cammy saw he was hanging back to ask something, and she knew
it was about Will waiting in the bar. She nodded and tried to walk
past him, but Chris took her arm gently. “Do you want me to
send him away?” His voice was low and calm, but Cammy sensed
something akin to aggression in her friend’s face.

No
!

Cammy
tugged her arm free and shot Chris a scowl. “Why would you do
that?” she asked, definitely feeling a ruffling of her feathers
at his dictatorial tone.

“
You
don’t have people—men—asking for you often.”
Chris tilted his head towards the bar. “And I don’t like
the look he has in his eye.”

What
look in his eye
?
Cammy suddenly remembered what her friends used to say about Will and
the way he used to look at her. They used to say he looked at her
like a ‘starved tiger.’ Secretly she had been proud of
that look, but she’d always brushed their taunts away with a
shake of the head and a vehement denial. And somewhere deep inside,
in a long-forgotten place, Cammy felt a bud of hope…

Until
she took a deep breath and shook her head at Chris. “No, don’t
send him away. Tell him I’ll be out in a moment.”

Cammy
swallowed hard as she watched Chris leave her office. The idea she
was going to see Will again had her insides churning—boiling.
She clutched her stomach as her mind began to jitter with panic.

I
look a mess. My hair looks terrible
…
Although it looked better than it had in years. She raised her hand
and stroked over it. She turned her head and caught her reflection in
the mirror. The pink puckered scar on her neck glared back at her and
all of her bravado slipped away. She sagged inside like a hot
water-bottle being opened.

How
could she explain?

With
fast steps she backtracked to her desk, she picked up the phone and
waited for Chris to answer.

“
Tell
him I’m busy,” she snapped, not able to breathe. She
caught sight of her unpainted fingernails and remembered, with a deep
pain, that she used to paint them every day. She used to preen and
spoil herself, and now…she just lived.

“
Sure
thing,” Chris answered, sounding far too happy to comply. Cammy
bristled a little at Chris and his jealousy for her. She wasn’t
his, hadn’t ever been his—and never would be.

Tears
burned at Cammy’s eyes and adrenaline coursed through her
blood. For ten years she had pined for the man currently waiting in
the bar. For ten years she had dreamed of his face; the image had
haunted her through life, like a constant reminder of how good things
used to be. And now she was sending him away like an uninvited guest,
like a vagrant whom she cared nothing for.

She
turned and looked out the small window and stared at the gardens. She
chewed nervously on her thumbnail and wondered just what the next ten
years—hell, what the rest of her life—would be like,
knowing she had sent him away. Again.

Male
shouts outside her office door made Cammy turn around. The door flew
open, making her jump out of her skin. When she looked up she was
snared by the angriest looking eyes she had ever recalled seeing—dark
and stormy and intent on her. Cammy flushed and heated all over.

“
What-what
are you doing?” she spluttered out, even as she tugged her
sweater neck higher to cover her scars. Chris fell through the door
behind Will and glared fiercely at him.

“
He
fucking jumped the bar and pushed past me!” Chris barked,
sounding out of breath and pissed off. Cammy jerked her gaze away
from Will and frowned.

“
Go
back to the bar—”

“
What?
I’m not going to leave you with this—this prick!”
Chris seethed. He grabbed at Will’s shirt and made to pull him
back. Will didn’t move, not a muscle, he just kept Cammy snared
with his dark, angry eyes.

“
Did
you tell him to send me away?”

His
voice—oh God, his voice, so quiet but so clearly a threat,
echoed in her office, around her ears and deep into her soul. Breath
fell from Cammy’s lungs as her chest restricted under the
surging emotions.

She
nodded. “Yes. Yes, I did.” She coughed, ashamed and
embarrassed by her actions.

Will’s
eyes darkened further, and his jaw bulged out the sides. He seemed to
take a calming breath before he reached up and gripped Chris’s
hand. Chris eyes went wide as Will squeezed, and after a tense moment
where Cammy wondered what to do, Chris let go of Will’s shirt.

“
Fucking
bastard,” Chris growled, even as he shook out his hand. “Shall
I call the police, Cam?”

“
No,”
she replied without even a second’s delay. “No.”
She looked at Chris and forced a friendly smile. ”You can go
back to the bar now.”

Chris
looked baffled, but he shook his head. “No, I’ll stay.”
He crossed his arms and Cammy had to bite back a huff of breath. She
heard Will laugh dryly and her blood surged with a fizzle of
electricity at the sound.

“
Please,
Chris.” She smiled again, but this time raised her brows, then
allowed the smile to drop from her face. “You’re just my
barman, Chris—not my bodyguard.” Chris looked at Will and
then back at her. Something dark crossed his expression, and Cammy
winced at how cutting her words might have actually been. Mean and
surly—well, he had called her both those things and now she had
just proved him right.

“
If
you need me, just scream,” he conceded. “I’ll turn
down the music in the bar.”

Cammy
nearly rolled her eyes.
When
did Chris become my protector?
she thought irritably.

“
Just
go,” she snapped, feeling the hot weight of Will’s stare
on her once more. When Chris turned to leave, Will watched him. The
pair held glares until Chris left the room. The scene reminded Cammy
of two dogs readying to fight, and her chest tightened at the
thought. Her heart fluttered and, God damn it, hope flared once
again. She savagely shoved back the lightening emotion and reminded
herself Will might even be married, have kids. And she could probably
guarantee he didn’t have a fetish for heavily scarred and
bitter women.

She
moved around her desk and kept her head low. Her heart pounded and
her breath felt tight. She was finally in the same room with the man
she had thought about constantly for ten years, and she couldn’t
even look at him. She couldn’t bring herself to lift her head.
So many emotions swirled like a vortex inside her chest, so many
pent-up needs and wants were bursting to get out—even as
bitterness and pain burned inside her mind.

What
would he think of me now…

Chapter
Three

Will
stood opposite Cammy and his hackles rose. Why wouldn’t she
look at him? Why had she told that lump to send him away? The
sickeningly superior look that barman—Chris—had given him
had nearly earned the man a black eye. But when he’d seen the
startled look in Cammy’s eyes he’d been able to control
his temper.

He
watched with increasing unease as her hands fluttered all over her
desk as if looking for something. Her once always-immaculate nails
looked pretty and clean, but certainly not polished. Will tried to
tell himself he had caught her unaware, she hadn’t known he was
coming, but something told him Cammy no longer polished herself as
she once had.

Why?

She
fussed and busied, never once looking up. Not even once did she
acknowledge his presence. The longer this awkward charade went on,
the more annoyed Will became. He couldn’t watch her fumble
around anymore; it was painful to see.

“
Cammy?”
He spoke, and broke the brittle air with his deep voice. Cammy
stilled, her hand-fluttering stopped, but still she didn’t look
up.

Dammit!

Where
was the fire from earlier? Where was the anger she had shown to him?
Even that was better than this.

“
Cammy—”

“
What
do you want, Will?” she asked, halting his words. Then she
looked up, but she didn’t look at him for more than three
seconds before she turned and stared out of her window. She had given
him her back—and fuck, if that didn’t just make Will’s
blood boil.

“
What
the fuck!” he snapped. Her slim shoulders tensed under her
heavy woolen sweater, but she still didn’t look at him. “Why
are you treating me like this?” he asked feeling exasperated
and quite frankly hurt. His chest pulled tight, as if pushed by a
solid hand. Rejection from Cammy did strange things to him. It
stirred his temper and tugged at his heart. If he was completely
honest, he’d never imagined she would be so cold. He had not
for a second imagined than she would welcome him with anything but
open arms. And he couldn’t for the life of him imagine why not.

After
all, ten years had flowed since the day she had allowed him to walk
away – the day she had said no.

She
shook her head, but still bloody didn’t look at him. Will had
had enough, he stalked around her desk and tugged at her shoulder,
probably too roughly, but he had to see the expression in her hazel
eyes. She kept her face tipped down and Will almost growled in anger.
He gripped her cheeks with both hands and bent her head back.

Pain,
hurt and fear shone back at him and Will almost staggered under the
emotional attack her gaze gave to his senses. Her eyes glittered with
unshed tears and Will burned to remove that look from her eyes. But
as he held her, he couldn’t help but allow his gaze to wander
over her much-missed features, to remember what he once considered
his.

So
long he had dreamed of touching her, holding her again—and here
he was, gripping her face once again. She had the most wonderful
cheekbones, so stark and pronounced, and he remembered quite clearly
now all the times he ran his lips and tongue all over them. Her
beautiful naturally sun-kissed skin felt soft under his unyielding
hands. Dimly he thought he was being too rough, holding her with too
much strength. He was just about to loosen his grip when his hungry
eyes fell upon a scar that ran along her jaw line and under that
ridiculously high sweater neckline.