I pause when she remains in the doorway, looking me up and down.
“What?” I ask, glancing down at my jeans and T-shirt to make sure I don’t have a huge stain anywhere.
“You’re not going to wear that, are you? I’m sure Stratford is going to want us to demonstrate some of these things. Especially you and Everett, since he wants to see the happy couple in action. Put on those tiny little gray shorts that make your ass look fantastic, with the matching teal and gray sports bra that shows off your abs and makes your boobs look bigger. You can show Everett how bendy you are in your yoga poses. Go Team Everett!”
I glare at her when she gives me a cheeky wink, turns, and walks out of the room.
“I’m not heating things up, Amelia! What I’m wearing is just fine!” I shout after her.
I hear her laughter echo down the hall.
“What I’m wearing is just fine,” I repeat, muttering to myself as I look back down at my Camp Rylan T-shirt that is two sizes too big and does indeed have some kind of mystery stain over the stomach.
Glancing over at the corner of the room where I keep a stack of clean workout clothes in case I’m here at the main house and need to quickly change for an activity, I see the gray shorts and sports bra Amelia just mentioned at the bottom of the pile. And picture myself bending over in front of Everett while I do Downward Facing Dog. There’s no way I’m even contemplating falling for the guy again, but who says we can’t have a little fun? We’re both attractive, single people and he seems to get a huge thrill out of making me uncomfortable with his shirt off and his little teasing comments about how I can’t stop looking at him.
Plus, it’s his fault I no longer have a tension reliever in the form of Grady.
“Son of a bitch,” I whisper, rushing over to the clothing and yanking what I need out of the stack.
Chapter 22
Everett
Hi, Jason!”
I watch as my brother turns around, his elbow hitting the box of nails he left on the windowsill and sending them crashing to the ground, scattering everywhere. The spilled nails cause a chain of events that has Jason juggling the wrench and hammer he has in his hands, until he drops both of those as well.
“Oh, hey, Amelia!” Jason replies a little too loudly.
His eyes never leave hers when he bends over to start picking up what he dropped, gravity making another hammer and two screwdrivers fall out of the utility belt around his waist, everything clamoring to the hardwood floor and echoing around the huge dance studio.
Biting down on my bottom lip, I keep my laughter locked up tight, nodding a greeting to Amelia as she waves and then turns to walk over to the other side of the room with a few other workers. When she’s out of earshot, I bend down to help Jason, letting my laughter burst out of me.
“You are so pathetic,” I chuckle, lifting up one of the hammers as Jason mutters curses under his breath while he scoops up nails and puts them back into the box.
“Fuck off,” he grumbles.
Jason has always come out to the camp to help Cameron with things that need to be fixed, but I found out recently that he’s been stopping by a lot more frequently since Amelia started working here. When Cameron told him yesterday the new window they had installed in the dance studio had started leaking when it rained, and informed him Amelia would be using the studio for most of the day and he could stop by another time so they wouldn’t be a distraction, he quickly told her it was no trouble and he’d be there first thing in the morning.
“I think it’s kind of cute you’re all shy and nervous around a girl. You could probably put an end to your misery by actually talking to her and asking her out,” I tell him with another laugh.
“I don’t need dating advice, especially from you,” he informs me, snatching the hammer out of my hand as I pick up a screwdriver.
“What the hell does that mean?”
Jason looks up at me and opens his mouth, but he’s cut off when Cameron walks in and we hear her call a greeting from behind us. As I turn my head to look back over my shoulder and give her a wave, my jaw drops open and the screwdriver slips from my hand, thumping to the floor.
Jesus Christ, what is she wearing?
I don’t know whether I should run in search of the nearest blanket and cover her up, or drag her out of here and toss her into another room where we can be alone and I can stare at her without anyone else noticing.
My head moves with her, following her as she walks down the middle of the room to the front, where Amelia and a few other workers have gathered for the demonstration. The minuscule gray shorts she’s wearing hug her perfect ass and that half-tank-top-looking thing shows off every inch of her tightly toned stomach. It’s been years since I’ve seen Cameron in something this revealing, the last time being when she was in her early twenties and we went swimming out at one of the lakes. She looked good in a bathing suit then, so good I had fantasies about her in it for months after. But this…sweet Christ, she’s so fucking hot it takes my breath away and fills my head with much dirtier thoughts than when we were younger.
“Who’s the pathetic one now, asshole?” Jason chuckles, making me turn my head away from her guiltily and scowl at him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mutter, shoving the screwdriver in his hand as we both stand up.
“You’re so transparent you’re practically clear. How’s that hard-on you’ve got hiding in your pants? Also, you’ve got a little drool on your chin,” he laughs again.
“So she looks good? Whatever. She’s my best friend. I don’t get hard-ons for my best friend,” I lie, shoving my hands into the front pockets of my pants and pulling them away from my body to hide the fucking hard-on I do, in fact, have for my best friend right now.
“I think it’s kind of cute you’re all shy and nervous around your best friend. You could probably put an end to your misery by actually talking to her and asking her out,” Jason states, repeating the words I said to him, but with a huge smile on his face. “Carrying a torch for her all these years must be exhausting.”
Jesus, am I really that obvious? I’ve never told anyone how I felt about Cameron, especially not my brother. He never would have let me live it down, and he most definitely would have kicked my ass for being such a chicken shit all these years.
“Shut the hell up and go fix your window,” I grumble, turning and walking away from him to go stand in the back of the room, where I put Stratford in a chair, and as far away from Cameron as possible.
Chapter 23
Cameron
And those are just a few of the more advanced poses we’ll teach once the beginners get the hang of things,” I finish explaining to Stratford, helping Amelia and a few of the other workers up from their mats on the floor where we did a quick yoga demonstration.
For years, this dance studio has only been used for fun, hip-hop dance classes for campers. Amelia had the idea a few months ago that we should start offering a few classes geared just toward the parents whose children attend the camp. For the weekend sessions, to give them something to do if they want to give their kids some alone time with other children, and during the summer months when they come out for visits if their kids are staying for several weeks. After e-mailing all of our parents with a survey to see what they would most be interested in, we’d decided on yoga, kickboxing, and meditation. We had a certified trainer for each of these classes, but she’s on vacation, and since I’ve taken all of these types of classes for years at the local gym, I felt confident enough to lead our demonstration.
Clearing my throat, I wipe my sweaty palms on my gray shorts and give Stratford a nervous smile. He hasn’t said one word since Everett brought him in here and pulled up a chair for him in the back of the room. I think I’d much rather he tell us it’s a stupid idea than just sit there not saying anything. At least give me some sort of indication this was a good idea and something that would convince him to give his money to this camp.
It’s also not helping that Everett has done nothing but stand at the back of the room a few feet away from Stratford, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of him. He wouldn’t even make eye contact with me each time I looked over at him for silent encouragement, or even some sort of hint that he appreciated the way I looked. So much for Amelia’s bright idea that I wear this dumb outfit to get a rise out of him. I just feel stupid and practically naked with all this skin showing. He leans against the wall looking almost bored. And in a pair of black track pants and a tight white T-shirt stretched across the muscles of his chest and arms, with a backward black baseball cap on his head, he looks bored and hot.
“I’m assuming you have more to offer the parents than just exercise classes,” Stratford finally says, not looking up from the phone that he’s furiously typing away on.
“I, um, we actually—”
“You’ve done a nice job today, Cameron, but I’d like to hear from your husband this time. He’s been unusually quiet today,” Stratford says, interrupting my stuttering as he looks up from his phone and over to Everett.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
Out of all the things Everett and I have discussed over the last week, we never talked much about future plans for the camp. It didn’t seem necessary. Like I told Amelia earlier, he fit back into this place perfectly. He remembered everything from when he used to work here, he knew the history of the place and everything about the back office, and there wasn’t much of a point.
Everett’s eyes finally meet my panicked ones, and he pushes away from the wall with a nod.
“Actually, sir, I’ve been contemplating the idea of adding a self-defense class to the list. It’s not only something I think adults need to learn, but even the older kids who attend the camp. It would be a great way to build their confidence. Make them feel like warriors, when most of them are feeling so scared and weak,” Everett explains, walking across the room to stand next to me.
“Hmmm, I like the sound of this. Show me a few things,” Stratford orders, waving his hand between Everett and me.
Without a word, Everett moves behind me, the front of his body pressed against my back. I can feel his heat and smell his skin and my heart stutters in my chest when he reaches around me and grabs my arms, pulling them up until they’re pressed in close to my chest.
He leans his head down until his mouth is right by my ear.
“Just follow my lead and do what I say. Keep your arms up where they are,” he whispers, his warm breath floating over my ear and making goose bumps break out over my skin even though I’m still hot and sweaty from the yoga demonstration.
I can’t speak. I can’t even nod that I understand. Before I can take my next breath, Everett’s strong arms band around me and he yanks me back against his chest, squeezing me tightly to him.
“This is called the Bear Hug. A very common strategy for an attacker sneaking up on someone from behind,” Everett explains. “Hard to get out of if your attacker is larger than you, but not impossible.”
Blah, blah, blah. That’s all I hear right now. I can’t pay attention to anything when I can feel every inch of Everett’s body against mine. I can feel the muscles of his chest against my back and the beat of his heart. My ass is nestled into his groin and it takes every ounce of control I have not to wiggle against him.
“Now, raise your hands, keeping your elbows bent at a ninety-degree angle, with your palms straight up.”
My eyes start to close, when I suddenly hear my name.
“Cam. Raise your hands,” Everett whispers in my ear.
I shake my head to clear it, trying to remember the instructions he just gave without asking him to repeat himself, and I admit I have no idea what’s going on right now because he’s distracting me with all this touching and breathing in my ear.
“This won’t break you free, but it will allow you some freedom of movement,” Everett states as I raise my hands, making sure to keep my elbows bent like he instructed.
“Next, take your right foot, and move it back until it’s between my legs and behind my right foot.”
I do as he says, pushing my ass even farther into his groin as I move my leg into position, and that’s when I feel it, and I have to swallow back a groan. He’s hard. And there is no way he can hide it in those track pants he’s wearing. I want to smile and let out a whoop, but he just goes right on with his instruction. No stuttering of his words, no labored breathing, no shaking hands or arms, no forgetting where he is or what he’s doing—all things I’ve been struggling with. Nothing to indicate this has any effect on him whatsoever. Here I am, a ball of nervous, lust-filled, can barely remember my own name ridiculousness, and he’s calm as a cucumber. He’s a guy. I’m a woman. Replace me with any damn woman and he’d probably have the same reaction.
“You’ll then lift your leg that’s behind mine, jamming it into my knee and making it give out, throwing your attacker off balance and loosening his hold on you so you can get away.”
I’m so ticked off by his calmness that he’s already moved away before I can do what he says, slam my knee into his, and then maybe even turn and bring it up into his crotch for good measure. He crosses his arms in front of him, his face showing no emotion at all as he starts to tell Stratford about a few other moves. He clearly thinks I’m out of my element because I’ve been letting him take the lead
Little does Everett know, I’ve been taking self-defense classes with Amelia for two years.
Game on.
Chapter 24
Everett
She did all this to torture me. I swear to God, every time she bent over, I could almost hear her laughing under her breath, knowing I was standing in the back of the room, barely holding on to my sanity. I’d been clenching my jaw so hard, watching her bend into every yoga pose known to man, that before I knew it, my temples were pounding with a headache and my dick hurt from being hard for so long that I’d need an ice pack soon.
For a week, I’ve been helping out here at the camp, doing all of the things I used to do back before I joined Doctors Without Borders, fitting back into the fold seamlessly and helping out wherever I’m needed. It felt good that Cameron would leave me alone from time to time to go back up to the main house and get things ready for the charity dinner, trusting me enough to know I wouldn’t screw anything up for her, letting me take care of Stratford on my own, and having faith in me to do right by her and the camp and make up for lost time.
She’s asked me on more than one occasion if I’m going to apply for a position at a local hospital and I brushed off her questions with a joke about being too busy helping her in her time of need. I’ve received several requests from some of the most well-renowned hospitals in the area, in desperate need of a doctor to run their trauma department, and they know I’m one of the best because of my experience overseas. I’ve ignored all of them, tossing the letters in the trash can and deleting e-mails as soon as I scan through them. I can’t tell Cameron the truth right now. That I’m scared to death to be a doctor again. That I’m petrified to be alone with a patient, making split-second decisions about them that could save their life or end it.
It’s been easy to push aside all these lingering feelings for her with both of us being so busy, and just concentrate on being a good friend and helping her however she needs it. It also helps that she’s never given me any indication that there could be something more. I’m always the one instigating the hand-holding, the touches, and the cutesy little pet names when Stratford is around, and she always just goes along with whatever I do, even though I can feel her nerves and tension every time I touch her. And last night doesn’t count. Waking up with her in my arms this morning and how right it felt had nothing to do with trying to make this into something more and everything to do with just needing not to be alone after that damn dream I had. If she gave me any kind of a sign that what I was doing affected her, there would be no way I could stick to my guns and focus only on being her friend.
Until now.
Until she waltzed in here in that outfit, bent over, and stuck her ass up in the air, or sat on the ground with her legs spread and leaned all the way forward until her chest was pressed to the ground.
It suddenly got really fucking hot in this room, and I could feel beads of sweat gathering under the baseball hat I’d thrown on this morning.
When Stratford looked at me, inquiring about other plans we have aside from exercise classes, I saw the panic written all over Cameron’s face, and I pushed away from the wall to come to her rescue, coming up with the first thing that popped into my head.
When I got behind her and wrapped my arms around her body, I realized self-defense wasn’t the brightest idea of activities to demonstrate. As soon as I pulled her against me and her ass nestled into my groin, my dick roared to life inside my pants. It took all the control I had to continue speaking in a calm and clear voice. It took every ounce of willpower I possessed to pretend like holding her in my arms, smelling her skin, and feeling the heat of her body didn’t make me want to throw her to the floor, slide between her legs, and ease some of the pain between mine. When she pushed her leg back between mine and hooked it around my foot, her ass rubbed right up against my cock and my eyes almost rolled into the back of my head.
As soon as I finish demonstrating the Bear Hug, I drop my hold on her and move away as quickly as possible before I come in my pants like a damn teenager. I continue explaining different moves to Stratford to try and clear my head of everything Cameron.
“We could even pair up teenagers with their parents to give them some time together for certain classes,” I finish, letting out a slow breath as I mentally count to ten and will my dick to forget all about the half-dressed woman I just had in my arms.