When You Are Mine (13 page)

T
he dreams are getting worse, Cam.” Kerris poured fabric softener into the washing machine, pointing to the basket behind Cam on the dryer. “Could you pass that to me?”

“I told you I’ve got it under control, babe.” He passed her the basket, a stiff smile on his face and a frown on his forehead.

“Sweetie, you were screaming last night.” She reached for his hand. “And crying.”

“I wasn’t crying.” Cam jerked his hand away like she was a hot stove.

“Okay, maybe you weren’t crying.” Kerris turned away to open the dryer, giving him the privacy he needed to compose himself. “But you were definitely upset.”

“Did I…” Cam leaned his hip against the washing machine, training his eyes on his scuffed boots. “Did I say anything?”

“I couldn’t make it out.” Kerris frowned, reaching again to hold his hand. He let her. “Maybe you should talk to someone.”

“Pffft. What, like a therapist?” Exasperation twisted Cam’s handsome face. “I’m not some circus freak.”

“I didn’t say you were. Just talk to someone. If not a therapist, or me, maybe Jo.”

“Or Walsh.”

His name fell like a tree into the washroom.

“Oh, I didn’t think about Walsh since he hasn’t been around much.”

Her voice was even, right? She sounded normal?

“He’s coming to the party tonight.”

Kerris forced her face into submission, not allowing it to show surprise or concern.

“You didn’t tell me Walsh was coming.”

Kerris leaned into the dryer, retrieving warm towels and giving her face time to recover from the shock that she’d be seeing Walsh for the first time after so long.

“That’s not a problem, is it?”

Did Cam watch her closer? Was she paranoid?

“No, of course not. I hope I have enough food.”

Cam laughed, grabbing her from behind and pulling her out of the dryer.

“Walsh is a big guy, but he doesn’t eat
that
much.”

“No, of course not.” She tried to laugh, too, and must have come close enough. “I thought maybe he wouldn’t be coming alone?”

Cam hoisted her onto the dryer, making her squeal. He nudged her denim-clad thighs open to stand between them, leaning in to nuzzle her neck.

“Only him, I think.” Cam freed the buttons of her blouse, slipping in to caress her breast with a possessive hand. Kerris leaned into his palm, begging her body to respond the way it had with Walsh. Guilt and shame clenched her muscles tight, ruining any chance of arousal.

It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy sex with her husband. It was fine. Better than she’d ever hoped after what had happened with TJ. And on good days, she could set her guilt aside long enough to enjoy the closeness between her and Cam. If she’d never experienced the lava rush of liquid fire that invaded her body at the mere brush of Walsh’s mouth, it would have been…fine. She wouldn’t have known it could be like that. That compulsive wanting, needing, longing, that connection of soul through a thin layer of skin.

Sitting on the dryer, she closed her eyes against the remembered sensations, shamed that her body was melting from the inside, not because of Cam’s touch, but from the memory of Walsh’s kiss. She knew that would be an unconscionable betrayal, to make love to her husband with the fire stoked by her memory of another man. She pushed Cam away, gentling the rejection with a smile before sliding down from the dryer.

“Baby, not now.” She gave him a quick kiss on his perfect mouth. “I have a million things to do for the party tonight.”

“Sorry, babe.” Cam kissed her neck, drawing the skin into his mouth, sucking hard.

Kerris pulled back, her hand flying to her neck.

“What are you doing? Did you just give me a hickey?”

“Probably.” He watched her, mouth smug and eyes satisfied. “I’ve marked you, babe. Everyone will know you’re mine.”

“This isn’t high school.” She stepped past him and down the hall to the bathroom, inspecting the already-forming bruise on her neck. “How embarrassing.”

“Why? We’re married. People know we fuck.”

“Language, Cam.” She rolled her eyes at his crudity. “You have the worst potty mouth.”

“Potty mouth?” He barked his amusement, leaning over her shoulder and catching her eyes in the mirror. “When we have kids you can get on me for cussing.”

Kerris’s irritation dissolved when he mentioned children. She’d made her choice. She was Cam’s “only.” She belonged to someone, and he belonged to her. And one day, they would have a family. It was her greatest desire. They both wanted to start a little tribe of people they’d do better by than their parents had done by them. She was carving out the life she’d always wanted.

She walked through the cottage door a few hours later, juggling grocery bags and reaching for keys. Hearing steps behind her, she glanced over her shoulder.

“Jo, you’re just in time. Could you grab this bag before it falls?”

“Sure thing.” Jo smiled, grabbing the tottering recyclable bag. “Is all this food for tonight?”

“Yeah. Of all things, Cam wanted Mexican for his birthday. So I’m making tamales, quesadillas, enchiladas, and my soon-to-be-famous guac.”

“Sounds delish.”

Kerris noticed Jo had let her dark hair grow out some, the angles of the bob softening and settling on her shoulders. She followed Kerris through to the kitchen, admiration clear in her silvery gray eyes.

“Kerris, you have really transformed this place.”

“Thank you.”

Kerris ran pleased eyes over the warm tones of the kitchen. The granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, and colorful backsplash seamlessly integrated modernity into the cottage’s old-fashioned charm.

She and Meredith had pillaged every peddler’s market, antique shop, and high-end thrift store in the greater Triangle area and beyond. They’d had the best time redecorating the lovely cottage, updating it without destroying its character.

Kristeene had given her and Cam the cottage as a wedding present, making it the first home she had ever owned. That’s what she loved most.

Kerris put the groceries away, leaving out the things she needed to start Cam’s birthday dinner.

“Your aunt Kris couldn’t have given us a better wedding gift.”

Jo’s face clouded, her smile slipping. She lowered her lashes, running her fingernail along the newly installed granite countertop.

“Is everything okay, Jo?”

Kerris’s heartbeat seemed to pause along with her hand, which was poised over a jar of chiles. She’d grown up waiting for something bad to happen. Maybe she had overactive Spidey senses, but Jo’s expression made them tingle.

“I’m a little worried about Aunt Kris.” Jo’s fingers drummed an anxious cadence on the counter.

“Is she sick or something?” Kerris’s heart resumed its regular beat. She opened the chiles, keeping her face as deliberately blank as Jo’s had become.

“She’s probably tired. I’ll make sure she gets some rest. The fall is such a busy season for her, gearing up for all her holiday projects.”

“You’d let us know if there was anything wrong, though, right?”

“Sure.” Jo looked back at her, the usually clear eyes opaqued with something Kerris couldn’t quite identify. “I think, more than anything, she wants to see Walsh. I could kick his ass for staying away so much this year.”

Kerris turned to the sink, washing her hands before she started cooking. She acknowledged Jo’s remark with only a grunt.

“I know Uncle Martin has him learning the ropes, but damn.” Jo leaned a slim hip against the sink, and Kerris felt the weight of the searching look Jo settled on her profile. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was avoiding Rivermont.”

“I’m sure he’s just busy.” Scrubbing the corn required all of Kerris’s attention. “Okay, I’ll need cilantro from my herb garden. Excuse me while I run out and grab some.”

“No, I’ll get going.” Kerris still felt Jo’s close regard. “I was hoping to see the birthday boy before the party tonight, but we’ll catch up later.”

Kerris grimaced at the thought of a roomful of people she barely knew and with whom she would have little in common. They would all spill out into the backyard to the picnic tables and benches she’d borrowed from the rec center. She’d already strung lights through the trees. People could play horseshoes, Xbox, poker—whatever they wanted. Cam hadn’t wanted much, just to be surrounded by his friends. That was the least she could do. It would be a pleasure.

She tried to remind herself what a pleasure it was a few hours later when her peaceful cottage had been invaded by Cam’s sophomoric friends, mostly male. There were a few women mixed in other than Kerris, Meredith, and Jo, but not many. The testosterone in the air was thick enough to choke a lady. Kerris replenished the beers in the coolers outside, offering a grim smile to a Neanderthal or two along the way.

She dashed back inside to whip up another batch of guacamole. They’d run out twice. She’d asked Cam to grab a couple of tomatoes from the garden for her when he got the chance, but he’d probably gotten caught up in the festivities. She should go get them herself, or snag Meredith when she surfaced from under a pile of men. Her friend loved being a single bee in this male-dominated honeycomb.

Two ripe tomatoes plopped down on the counter beside her. She barely took her eyes off the cilantro she was dicing.

“Thanks, baby.” She glanced over her shoulder, almost cutting a finger when she faced Walsh instead of Cam.

Walsh grinned with his arms outstretched. She stumbled toward him, experiencing a shiver and a shock when he pulled her close. The scent that was so distinctly his insinuated itself into her nostrils. The knot of tension she’d been carrying in her stomach ever since she’d heard he was coming liquefied, pureeing her insides until she could barely stand.

“You’re welcome…baby.” She felt his wide grin in the curve joining her neck and shoulder. “Meredith asked me to bring these in to you.”

“I didn’t know you were here.”

She pulled back, needing some distance to stand the ground she’d gained in the last year. They had not spoken to each other since that night at the gazebo. Hadn’t exchanged even a glance since the toast he’d offered at the wedding reception. She’d dreaded this moment for the last year, while perversely looking forward to seeing him again. Now she didn’t know what to say. Pretending with him never came easy, and certainly not now. Not after so long. Not when he was here, siphoning all the air from the room.

The skin on Walsh’s face tightened, his smile becoming harder to hold. There was still something just beneath her honeyed skin that he could never ignore. All the defenses he’d built up in the last year and had hoped would hold against her appeal gave way. The familiar scent of vanilla and brown sugar reached his nostrils and made his mouth water.

“Yeah, I’ve been busy.” He adopted a casual tone. No need for her to know he wanted to crush her against him and never let go. “It was impossible to get home.”

The quick glance she threw up at him, her fingers pausing in their chopping, told him she might know he was lying. He couldn’t care. They had become experts at lying to each other, and consequently to those they loved. He wasn’t sure he could stop now, or ever. The truth could destroy them.

“I was disappointed you couldn’t come with Cam to Kenya,” he said.

“Disappointed?” Confusion pleated her forehead. The chopping stopped altogether. “I thought…”

Her voice trailed off and her frown deepened for a second before clearing. She bit her lip and crossed over to grab an avocado from the windowsill over the sink.

“You thought what?”

“Nothing.” She said it too quickly to convince him, offering her own tight smile. “I thought I might be able to get away, but there was too much going on. I couldn’t leave Mer.”

Something wasn’t right.

“Cam and I have never gone that long without seeing each other.” Walsh still searched her closed expression for what he was missing. “I was glad he could come. He’d never seen our Kenyan operation. You’d have loved it, too.”

“I’m sure I would have,” she said, her smile now honest and wistful. “Maybe next time.”

“Well, did you at least like the gift I sent?” He was eager to hear what she’d thought of it. He’d seen it and known she would love it.

“Gift?”

“The gift I sent back with Cam?”

The feeling that something wasn’t right persisted, squeezing around the muscles of his chest like a giant rubber band.

“Oh, the…the gift.” Kerris crossed to the refrigerator, staring at the food packing each shelf. “I loved it, of course.”

Silence filled every corner of the small kitchen. Even the refrigerator seemed to hum more quietly as the truth sank in for both of them. Cam had not told her she was invited to Kenya. Cam had not given her the gift Walsh sent. Walsh knew they were reaching the same conclusion.

Cam knew something.

Or suspected.

They had been above board in all of their interactions. Cam would have nothing to point to. Maybe just a sixth sense. It was too much to consider, the possibility that the person they had done so much to protect might end up hurt and disillusioned anyway.

“It was a dashiki.”

Walsh’s voice was hushed, not with secrets, but with regret. The African dress had been breathtaking and unique, and had immediately reminded him of her. It was probably too extravagant a gift, but Cam seemed fine with it at the time.

“I’m sure it was beautiful.” Kerris still faced the refrigerator, one hand braced against the door, head hung toward the floor.

“I thought so.” He needed to change the subject. The kitchen was too crowded with unspoken impossibilities. “So how’s the vintage business treating you and Meredith?”

They spent a few minutes discussing the ups and downs of starting such a unique venture. She regaled him with a few of her funnier stories about their first year in business, easing the tension, but the truth stayed in the room with them like a chaperone. Cam might not be oblivious to the bond they shared; he might have even lied to keep them apart.

“Here ya go.” Kerris passed him an onion. “Make yourself useful if you’re gonna invade my kitchen. Speaking of good use, what’s this ridiculous nickname you’ve earned yourself?”