The One That Got Away (8 page)

Because
this couldn’t happen—it wasn’t possible to even
think about. She would die from the lost hope alone. Why had she come
here? Why had she thought kissing him was a good idea? She had not
once thought past the act, and the obvious rejection.

Will
looked affronted, as if she had slapped him. He stood stock still and
glared down at her.

“
Is
that what
you
do?” he asked with an odd sneer. His tone stung and the
implication she slept around and fucked often bloody hurt. It felt
like an electric bolt to her soul. Cammy looked away, too hurt to
speak. She climbed off the bed and snatched up her jeans again. This
time she didn’t fumble or tremble—she was pissed off—and
the adrenaline from that helped her to get dressed fast. Just as she
dropped her hand on the door handle she turned.

Will
stood as he had before, fully naked and glaring at her with
cold…hurt? She watched as he bent down and picked up his
jeans. He stabbed his legs into them and stood tall. He crossed his
arms and Cammy stared as his jaw bulged from the strain he put on it.

“
Tomorrow
I’ll go to my father’s grave, and then I will leave.”
He uncrossed his arms and took a couple of steps closer to her. She
stood stock still as her heart throbbed wildly; he lifted his hand
and touched her cheek. She wanted to lean into his hand, his warm
touch, but the dark emotion that shone from his stare stopped her. He
turned away and left her standing gripping the door as if she would
collapse without it. “Thanks for the…” She watched
his shoulders tense and his hands clench; with his back to her she
could not see his expression. “Thanks for the fuck, Cammy. It
was well worth the trip home,” he sneered before he walked into
the small bathroom and closed the door.

Cammy
stared woodenly at the closed door and wondered if she could die from
the pain that welled inside her chest. She fought for breath as the
wind was sucked from her lungs.

She
didn’t understand what had just happened, but she knew she had
hurt Will’s feelings. God knew, he had hurt hers.

Chapter
Seven

Will
stood at his father’s grave and stared down at the simple cross
that sat on the ground marking his father’s final resting
place. There was a cold chill to the air that nipped at his skin and
whispered through his hair. Will stood and glared at the grave and
wondered why the fuck he cared.

The
old man had been the bane of his life until he left—and even
after that, Will had often found himself worried about his father. He
had sometimes wondered who was taking care of the old drunk. So much
so, sometimes he had picked up the phone and dialed his number and
waited for the drunken, “What?”

Over
the years the worry had abated; over time Will had thought less and
less of him. But now, standing at his grave, Will couldn’t help
but feel guilty for leaving the old man to die drunk and alone.

“
I’m
sorry,” he whispered into the cold air. The words were snatched
by the wind and Will allowed himself to imagine they had been taken
to his Dad.

He
looked up and over the small village, and let out a strained sigh.
His gaze wandered over the mostly green view, until his eyes fell
upon the pub—Cammy’s pub—and his heart suddenly
hung heavy.

What
happened last night?
he wondered, not for the first time. Last night had been perfect,
everything Will had ever dreamed, until Cammy had gone cold and
almost ran from the hotel room.

He
dropped his gaze to his father’s grave, and he realized he
hadn’t really returned to say goodbye to his father—although
now he had, he felt better. No, he had returned to see Cammy again.
In his heart he had hoped she hadn’t moved away. In his heart
he had hoped she was single and available.

He
had never imagined it could be true. He especially had never imagined
he would get a night like last night with her. His mind played back
the image of her sexy tattoo, and his pulse kicked. She had been wild
and wanton. A perfect amount of kitten for his sex and she had driven
him crazy—just as she had when he was eighteen. She had been a
raging inferno in his veins and he wasn’t sure he could walk
away.

He
stared down at the pub, and his chest suddenly drew tight. He
remembered her harsh, crude words about what they had enjoyed. Will
had never once thought of their love-making as a mere fuck.

He
cringed again as he remembered when she had spoken those words to
him. Anger burned inside his head, aggression flashed into his blood
and his gut clenched tightly. His gaze fell to his father’s
grave and suddenly the anger dissolved.

I
am not like him.

With
a sigh of disgust Will turned and headed for his car. The sooner he
got away, the faster he could try to forget Cammy again.

He
let out a cold laugh, knowing he had just thought the impossible. If
he had never forgotten her after all these years, now, after knowing
what it was like to make love to her—and that’s what it
had been—he would never get over her. No, she was stamped well
and truly onto his heart.

*
* * *

Cammy
stood behind the bar. The pub was empty except for one lunchtime
drinker and Chris who was restacking the glasses noisily. She stared
dumbly at the flashing lights of the slot machine as her mind
replayed the happenings of last night.

“
Earth
to Cammy,” Chris joked as he placed another glass on the shelf.
Cammy turned her head and tried for a smile, the feeling almost
uncomfortable in the mood she was in. “What’s up?”
he asked even as he bent down for another glass.

Cammy
shook her head and took in a deep breath to sigh. “Nothing,”
she lied.

“
I
know you’re normally surly, but this is more than usual.”
He smiled as if his words were funny. They weren’t; they stung,
and Cammy didn’t have the energy to lie about it.

“
Have
you ever thought that when you call me that you’re hurting my
feelings?” she asked, turning a cold glare Chris’s way.
He stood tall and frowned as if the thought had never crossed his
mind, and that annoyed her further. With a huff of exasperation she
walked out of the bar and headed for her office. Once inside she fell
against the door and closed her eyes.

Will
had been in here.

She
opened her eyes and immediately remembered him standing inside her
small office. He had been so demanding in wanting to see her, so
utterly strong and confident. Her heart ached and her head spun.

Was
she really going to allow him to leave again, without so much as an
address to send a Christmas card to?

Was
she really going to allow Will to disappear from her life again?

“
No!”
she barked into the small room. Her pulse kicked and her heart
lurched. “No, I will not,” she said with more certainty.
It wasn’t as if she was going to ask him to marry her, but she
couldn’t allow him to leave without knowing how much she cared
for him—loved him. Her life so far had been a mess, made by one
missed opportunity, and there was no way she was going to live the
rest of her life angry because she allowed it to happen again.

She
turned, grabbed her coat and sprinted to her car.

Oh
God, please don’t be gone yet!

Chapter
Eight

Will
stepped into his small modern apartment and threw his keys onto his
coffee table. He dropped onto his sofa and sighed. The red flashing
light on his answering machine caught his eyes briefly, but he
couldn’t be bothered to answer any calls. He didn’t have
the energy to fake being happy, or even civil. The idea of talking to
anyone just made him sick.

He
stood up and plodded into his kitchen, tugged open his fridge and
pulled out a cool beer. He thanked himself silently for getting these
in; he didn’t normally have beer in the house due to his
tenuous hold on his temper, but he’d had some friends around
before he had left and, quite shockingly, they hadn’t drunk it
all. He noted with some relief there were a good ten or so more
bottles before he closed the fridge door and wandered to his shower.

The
hot spray battered over his shoulders and pounded into his skin, but
he still couldn’t wipe away the memory of Cammy’s hands
as they gripped his arms and slid over his back. The way she arched
into his touch like a cat was the sexiest damn thing he had ever
seen—felt—loved, and he couldn’t believe he would
never experience that amount of pleasure again. She had been wicked
and receptive to his touch, such a perfect match to his rough needs.
Not once had she seemed to be put off by his hard-gripping hands or
his savage growls. Will had let go completely, unable to temper his
needs when she had given so gladly.

Was
that why she ran? Had he been too rough?

In
his mind, he had been conjuring visions of them being together.
Whilst they’d been making love he had begun building his plans,
to somehow return to her and his old village. When he had gone to the
bathroom after they’d finished, he had grinned like a fool at
the knowledge that Cammy was his again.

Fucking
fool.

When
he’d seen her hastily getting dressed, his heart had dropped
from his chest and splattered on the floor.

Fuck!

When
she’d belittled their joining as just a fuck, Will had almost
flown into a rage his father would have been proud of. In his mind he
had imagined Cammy fucking Chris from her bar, and all sense had left
his head. God, to think he’d been building a life in his mind,
when she was just playing him. Him and many others, probably.

He
fisted his hands, leaned against the cool tile wall of the shower and
ground his teeth together. It shouldn’t hurt this much. Damn,
he’d had many a one-night-stand, many a free fuck he could
happily walk away from. So why was this so fucking hard?

Because
it was Cammy.

Rage
pulsed inside his head and anger burned at his lungs, a roar of
aggression and pain tore from his mouth and before he knew it he was
punching out at the tiled wall. The shower suddenly became too hot;
the pelting water irritated his nerves. Will wrenched the faucet off,
spun, shoved open the door and stepped from the enclosure. The door
slammed back and hit on the edge of the towel rail, and the quiet
apartment air was suddenly broken by the sound of the glass panel as
it shattered and rained down on his floor.

Will
looked down at the destruction, and dimly he thought,
That’s
something my Dad would have done,
before he grabbed a towel, took up his beer and left the bathroom.

*
* * *

Cammy
stared up at the modern city apartment block and tugged her coat
higher around her neck. She took a deep, shaky breath and then pushed
the posh glass doors open. She stepped into the lift and pressed the
right floor number, and sent up another prayer that this was the
right address.

Please,
please, please.

Agnes,
the cute old owner of the bed-and–breakfast, had said this was
the address Will had given when he’d booked his room. She had
passed it over to Cammy with a whisper of, “This can get me
into trouble.” Cammy had snatched it up and promised not to
tell anyone where she got the address.

Shit,
please don’t be annoyed.

She
felt like a stalker, a stupid woman chasing down a crush, and the
closer she got the sillier she felt. Her nerves jangled, her hands
trembled and her chest fluttered continually with butterflies.

What
if he tells me to get lost?
Cammy
closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.
You’ll
never know if you never try.