Deep in the Heart: An Austin After Dark Book Page 18

  “Jenna?”

  “What?” I called as I leaned against the cool wooden door. I shivered as my bare back came in to contact with the cool wood.

  “Would you be madder at me if I said you have a mighty fine ass? I’ve always enjoyed cupping those sweet cheeks while I kiss you silly.”

  I chuckled before the sorrow once again slammed its fist into my gut.

  “Sugar?”

  He was closer—just outside the door.

  “No. I wouldn’t be mad. I’m not mad. Cam?”

  “Jenna?”

  “Thanks for trying to cheer me up.”

  “Is it working?”

  “Sort of. But I feel a bit strange flirting right now.”

  Silence stretched for a long moment and I held my breath. Had he left?

  “How about I make you some coffee and rustle up a bite? That-a-way, you’re ready for whatever you need to do next.”

  Before I lost my courage, I opened the door and flung my arms around his neck, pressing my lips to his. The comforter slid down, catching between us at my belly button. Just as his hands came up to cup my hips, I pulled back, out of his embrace.

  “Thank you.” He might leave—he probably would—but he was here now. That was more than I could say for my own family. That meant something.

  He raised a brow. “Don’t mention it. Just kiss me with that much enthusiasm next time I do something to please you. And, Jenna?”

  I met his gaze. He touched my cheek with the pad of his thumb.

  “I’d take this pain from you if I could.”

  I shut the door again, unable to speak past the lump of emotion boiling up my throat. Not for my grandfather as much as knowing Cam had become my go-to person. And…I feared I loved him.

  His leaving would hurt more than I already did.

  22

  Cam

  Jenna’s kitchen had surprised me that first morning I stayed over—the coffee was in the same place I put mine on the counter. Her creamer in the same door compartment. Mugs in the cabinet above, to the right side. Whole wheat English muffins instead of the bagels I preferred, but she couldn’t be perfect.

  That would be too weird. As if the similarities in our thinking and organization strategy didn’t freak me out enough.

  Jenna walked into the main room, her steps hesitant and her eyes darting about, ten minutes later. Her face was clean and a bit damp, her eyes still puffy and her cheeks red. Her golden hair pulled up into a high ponytail that swished with each step. She’d paired her faded, soft jeans with an embroidered sleeveless top and some low-heeled brown boots. She rocked those boots better any woman I’d ever met—same went for the jeans, which cupped the flare of her hips and her sassy flanks almost as well as my hands would.

  I blinked my mind clear of the image of those sweet, naked globes with just the right amount of jiggle. I liked her rump—wanted to squeeze that flesh as I pulled her flush to my body. But she didn’t need the distraction of sex.

  And it seemed like most of the men in Jenna’s life used her for sex then dropped her. Maybe not so much with the ball player ex-boyfriend, Robbie, but for sure his asshole friend Ben. My lips set in a firm line as I considered my newest round of options for that little punk. My lawyer said we could get him years in prison, which was something he probably deserved. But, after living in some of the worst hellholes on this dusty earth, I wasn’t sure the kid would straighten up his act through punishment. Problem was, he wasn’t a first-time offender, which would be the best chance to nip violent behaviors and poor decision making before it had the chance to bloom into full-blown felonies.

  His record as a minor related to the incident with Jenna at that concert—I just knew it. Ben was dangerous, especially after he loosed those women on us.

  Didn’t sit right to let Ben off easy—not after what he’d put Jenna through. My lawyer promised to come up with a list of options. Hopefully they taught humility and empathy, something I’d needed to learn myself—the hard way—during one of the bleakest nights of my life.

  Only reason to explain my continued presence—my normal MO, at least since Kim, seemed to be cut and run when emotions passed the surface. But the mere whiff of Jenna hurting, seeing the ravages of grief on her face, ripped at my composure, aching to hold her through this storm. Hell if I knew what to do with those feelings.

  So, I handed her a cup of coffee and smacked a kiss on her surprised lips before turning back to the stove, trying to look busy and give my heart and hands a chance to settle.

  “What are you making?” she asked as she leaned against the counter, peering over my shoulder.

  “Hash. My secret recipe, so don’t go getting any ideas, hear?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Hash? Like that old-timey dish of mashed up meat and potatoes?”

  “And other bits that’ll stick to those ribs.” I poked her in her side and then wiggled my finger, eliciting a small, grunting laugh from her. “You need to eat, sugar.”

  “You calling me too skinny?” She turned away and opened one of the cabinets, pulling down plates before moving to my other side to get flatware. Still surprised me that her stuff was set up just like my kitchen. I shook my head.

  “Not calling you any name but sugar. Just pointing out we all need calories.” I slid some of the food onto her plate before loading up mine. I added orange sections and half of an English muffin to each plate. “And seeing as how it’s after midnight, this seemed like the best option.”

  “It’s that late?” Jenna asked, startled.

  “Yep.” I put a plate in front of her as she sat at the table and carried mine to the other side where I settled in. “Eat up, then we’ll discuss how best to tackle the rest of this.”

  Jenna picked up her fork but simply moved a potato around. “I’m not good company, Cam. I have to go to the hospital.” Her throat seemed to close on the word.

  “And I told you I was here for you till we decided we didn’t click.” I cupped her listless hand in my larger, warmer one.

  “Much as I liked the way you looked at me earlier, sex just isn’t on my radar right now.”

  I leaned forward so she had to look me in the eyes. “This may come as a bit of a shocker. One, I don’t need to have sex every minute of the day. Two, I happen to like you even without sex. Though I like sex, too. But you’re hurting right now, sugar, so let me do that—be here for you.”

  She nodded, her eyes still too somber, as she finally forked up a bite. Her eyes widened as she chewed and her stomach gurgled.

  “This is really good.”

  I sat back, pleased. “Thanks.”

  She took another bite and moaned a little as she tipped her head back, exposing her long neck. I shifted, trying to find a more comfortable fit of my jeans. I settled into my meal, and we ate in companionable silence.

  A solid relationship—from my family to my comrades-in-arms to my wife and every other romantic relationship—was built on the ability to be with each other. To remain silent and comfortable. To trust in those breaks in conversation that once we each regrouped, we’d have more to say—more to share.

  I scowled down at my plate. Jenna’s grandfather approved of me, actively helping me win over his granddaughter when Jenna got all stubborn and I got scared. I’d popped in to see him after we returned to Seattle to explain what a dick I’d been, and he’d forgiven me that, too. Not sure his faith in me was justified—that’s why I’d wanted to lay my feelings out there, let the whole family know what I was thinking long-term.

  I’d missed that opportunity.

  The driver of the other car that hit Mr. Olsen ran a red light at full speed. I didn’t like the direction of my thoughts, but I’d already put in a call to Chuck and another to my lawyer to get me the driver’s name.

  I had a gut reaction the identity was going to further rip Jenna apart. Which was why Jenna needed me to be strong—the emotional rock I’d struggled to be since Kim and my uncle’s deaths.

  Once Je
nna cleared her plate and finished off her coffee, wiped her hands on the dishrag after washing the dishes she insisted on cleaning, that trickle of unease I’d ignored since I heard the news welled back up.

  Her grandfather had been her stability, the one she turned to when she needed comfort or wisdom. Now that she’d mentioned it, I worried what would happen to the guitar store. Because it gave Jenna purpose and a passion, both of which she’d need in the coming weeks as she toiled through the painful work of grieving.

  I’d been in her spot too many times.

  She turned toward me. The tip of her nose was still red, but the puffiness and redness of her eyes cleared enough for her to look her normal gorgeous self.

  Jenna twisted the dishtowel in her hands, tightening it to the point it must by pinching the skin of her palms.

  “I don’t do well in hospitals. The smell, the sounds…reminds me of bad times there.”

  “We don’t have to go.”

  Jenna turned an incredulous face toward me. “I do.” Her voice turned sharp, and I understood.

  She sucked in a big breath and let it trickle out slowly. “I should be there already. My family’s there, dealing with this, while I huddled in my bed. I have to go, Cam.” The last words turned pleading.

  I’d left her once without letting her explain. Now, she needed me as she never had before—or probably would again. Instead of shying away from the emotion, I stood and went to her, pulling her into my arms.

  “I’ll be with you the whole time. I’ll hold your hand. Whatever you need.”

  She nuzzled her cheek against my shoulder, her arms coming up to span my waist. “You sure you don’t mind? I mean, I know you just did this with your own family.”

  I blew out a breath. “I’m not going to lie. This isn’t easy for me either.”

  She pulled back enough to search my eyes, hers softening when she found whatever it was she was looking for. “Thank you. For being the man I need even though this isn’t what you want either. Just let me get my phone and purse.”

  She darted off.

  I finished off the last of the coffee and put my mug and the empty pot in the dishwasher, mulling over her words—and what she hadn’t said.

  My finger searched my pocket and wrapped around the hard candy there. I pulled it out, unwrapped it and popped it in my mouth.

  “Why do you eat those?” she asked.

  “They help to calm me.”

  She sighed, an exasperated sound. “How’d you figure out they kept you calm?”

  “In the sandbox. My team was pinned down by enemy fire. Sounds better than the reality. Between us, we had two bags of Werther’s candies sent by Chuck’s grandma, twenty granola bars and ten bananas. And our water that we carried on us.”

  “How long were you out there?” Jenna’s eyes flared wide.

  “Three days. We saved the Werther’s for last. Nothing’s ever tasted so damn good, especially when two Black Hawk helos sped over us and took out the insurgents.” I shrugged. “Good connotations for me and caramels.”

  Jenna wrinkled her nose as I opened the back door of the SUV for her. “Better than me and hospitals. Thanks for driving, Chuck.”

  When we arrived, none of Jenna’s family was there. Her grandfather had already been moved to the funeral home.

  “You want to call your folks?” I asked.

  Jenna shook her head, wrapping her arms around her mid-section.

  Something was going on—something she hadn’t shared with me. Her face paled further though her cheeks remained red from the earlier bout of tears. Her dulled eyes worried me most. Jenna’s curiosity—her sharp wit and incisive responses—faded as she eased back inside. Her grandfather told me this retreat was how Jenna behaved whenever she was hurt or overwhelmed, and they’d spent months pulling her back out of the shell she’d encased herself in after the GHB overdose in Seattle.

  In fact, according to Mr. Olsen, Jenna had only been like her old self for mere weeks before I stepped into her shop. Now I had to wonder how she’d handle this huge loss. More than I’d ever had to deal with, and I’d dealt with plenty.

  I began rearranging my day and the following one so I could be with Jenna, taking care of her as she worked through the initial grief.

  I popped another candy as I sent off a final text. I slammed my car door and waited for Jenna to buckle up.

  Chuck started the car and eased out of the lot and into the traffic. Jenna paid little attention, eyes on her knees and arms once again crossed over her middle the entire ride back to my place.

  Something in Jenna’s expression remained off—the grief settled there, as it would for many months to come. Jenna watched me as if waiting for…something. Something I feared I couldn’t provide.

  “Let’s go.” I grabbed her hand.

  “Where?”

  “Down to the river.”

  “I don’t have a swimsuit.”

  I smiled in a way that must have told Jenna I didn’t care—didn’t want her in a suit—and she balked, digging her heels into my bricked patio.

  “I am not skinny dipping with you!”

  I raised my eyebrow. “Who asked you to? I bought you a swimsuit. Rather, my assistant did. It’s in my bedroom.”

  “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “And you’re not going to sleep till you relax some. So, get a move on.”

  Jenna walked into my bedroom without another word, head still bowed. I wanted her to turn back and give me a snarky Jenna-type response. She shut the door.

  Jenna stepped out on the porch in the tankini Erika purchased earlier. It wasn’t overly revealing. Erika didn’t approve of the parade of women I’d led through my life these past few years and this was her conservative statement to think with something other than my dick. That’s what I deserved when I hired one of my mother’s old chums to help me clean up my image and get more organized.

  Still, the cornflower blue material clung to Jenna’s breasts and slid over her smooth belly. The small bottoms showed off her long, toned legs. I’d never seen a shapelier pair of calves or drooled over trim ankles before. Even her feet in those wedged flip flips turned me on.

  “Let me get changed and we can head out.”

  Jenna’s face softened with gratitude. I made the call before I did something stupid—like pull her into my arms and take advantage of her grief and worry.

  “If it’s all right, I’ll need to check in with my mother and sister in the morning. See how they’re getting along. Wouldn’t mind you meeting my brother now that I’m sure he won’t try to steal you away.”

  “I’m not a pet kitty,” she said, voice sharp. “I am more than capable of making my own decisions as far as who I date.”

  I brushed her hair back from her forehead and cupped her cheek. Before I realized it, I’d leaned down and taken her lips in a kiss. I managed to keep it soft, gentle, but my body raged with need for more.

  “I know it. The warning was more for my brother. And how much I’d whup his ass if he laid even a finger on you.”

  She sighed and shook her head, exasperation radiating from her every pore. Jenna turned back to go through the door and my breath caught. The back was held together by a bow at the neck and another in the middle of her back. One little tug and I’d get the top to drop down to show me those lovely pink-tipped breasts. I loved her breasts. One more tug and I’d have the top off, able to feast on all that lustrous skin.

  Damn Erika for letting me think the suit was conservative. It was hot as hell, and I wanted to see the color darken with water, then see Jenna’s eyes darken with need as I pulled the bow out.

  But now wasn’t that moment. I needed to help Jenna relax. Soothe out some of the grief at least enough for her to sleep. Because if Jenna grieved like I did, sleep would be difficult to capture.

  23

  Jenna

  I fidgeted on the rock seat carved into the little pool. The night noises were soothing, as Cam predicted. I wondered how
to ask Cam for what I needed. Him, touching me, bringing me pleasure so that I could focus on life, on feeling good, not the fear and blackness that tugged at my consciousness.

  I half-expected the phone to ring any moment with news of my dismissal from the family.

  Unable to take the self-doubt spinning through my head any longer, I slid from Cam’s side and straddled his hips. He tilted his head back and met my gaze with a patient understanding.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and slid my wet hands into the short hairs at his nape. “Cam.”

  “Sweet Jenna Marie.”

  “I want…”

  “To feel good?”

  I nodded. Instead, of saying the words, I pressed my breasts against his chest. Cam released a breath and a curse.

  “I’m not going to tell you no. You sure about this?”

  “Yes. Please, Cam. I need you.”

  His lips quirked up but his eyes remained watchful.

  “I love the feel of your hands on me. How you make me feel when you touch me,” I tried to explain again. I slid my palms down his neck, over those broad shoulders and onto his pecs.

  “I’ll give you what you need,” he said against the sensitive skin of my neck. He nipped that warmed flesh. “I’m desperate to be inside you.”

  I reached up and pulled at the bow on my suit. Cam’s eyes burned with appreciation as the suit tumbled down, baring my breasts to his intense gaze. My nipples puckered into painful peaks and a deep throb settled between my thighs.

  He raised his hands and palmed my right breast, keeping his other hand on my hip. His eyes fixed on mine, he leaned forward and took the nipple into the warm, wet heat of his mouth. I whimpered as my hips undulated against his, seeking the much-needed friction.

  He switched to my other breast, sucking hard enough to hollow out his cheeks, his eyes never leaving mine. The sensation was too great and I threw my head back.

  “We’re just getting started, sugar.” His voice held promises no one else could ever match. Cam proved more sensitive to my needs than any of my previous lovers. My passion seemed to stoke his.