CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Adalyn
I woke up with a jolt.
The first thing I became aware of was how comfortable and warm I was. How good the linen around my body smelled and how plush the comforter was.
I rolled onto my side, eyelids blinking and trying to make sense of where I was. My legs bumped against something solid and warm.
“What…” I murmured, looking down and finding a ball of bicolored fur. “Willow? Why—”
Everything came back. Glimpse after glimpse of the last twenty-four hours, toppling right into my mind.
The guy with the hoodie. My panic. The pain emanating from my ankle and traveling up my calf. The irresponsible intake of painkillers. Willow curling up on my lap. Cameron’s arms. The feeling of his chest underneath my cheek. His palm against my hair. The soothing hum of his voice.
Cameron’s arms.
He’d brought me to his cabin. With him. I couldn’t exactly remember why. But if what I’d just recalled was right, he’d gone as far as… soothing me back to sleep. The image was too clear, too sharp, for me to think I’d imagined it. He’d sat by my side and stroked my hair until I’d fallen asleep.
A wave of heat climbed all the way up to my face. God, I must have been in really bad shape.
With more effort than I should have needed, I sat back on the bed, obtaining a skeptical glance from the cat as she stretched her paws by my side. “Sorry, friend,” I told her, and she yawned at me. “Is that okay? That I called you friend?” She jumped over my legs and settled herself against my hip. I took her staying as a yes. “Thanks. I also think we are friends after last night.”
Her head fell back on the comforter again, and I wasn’t going to lie, the cat liking me back felt like a win I’d take. Especially considering the likely awkward conversation I had ahead of me today.
With a sigh, I rolled out of the bed, feeling the sharp bite of pain when I rested my right foot on the floor. I pushed through it. I had more pressing concerns to deal with. I limped my way out of the room and into a hallway, carefully stopping every few feet to make sure where I was going. The last thing I needed right now was to find Cameron in some inappropriate situation like, I don’t know, changing or slipping out of the shower or getting undressed…
Or maybe you should simply stop thinking of Cameron naked, a voice screamed in my head.
I discarded all thoughts involving Cameron and continued my hopping. There was music coming from the far end of the hallway, so I veered that way and encountered the kitchen and living area.
Catching my breath, I braced myself on the white marble island and took a break to let my gaze roam. A cream-colored chaise longue laid right in the middle of the space, rustic and minimalistic décor scattered on shelves, timber beams crossed the ceiling, gorgeous windowpanes let the sunlight in, a half-naked man did a handstand, the table—
My eyes retraced their trajectory a step, snapping into focus.
Whoa.
There were very few instances in life that I’d been as shocked, as wholly and completely befuddled as I was in that instant. Was I imagining this? No, there was no way my mind could summon such perfection. My imagination really sucked. So Cameron had to be there, at the very end of the living room. Gloriously shirtless.
And he hadn’t lied.
Cameron Caldani wasn’t just good at yoga. He excelled at it.
And I apparently excelled at getting hot and bothered watching him.
Because all of my blood was rushing to my face at the sight of him shirtless. With his elbows on the mat, legs up. In a pair of loose workout shorts that gravity was pulling down his beautiful quads. My eyes got lost in there for a second, in that muscled section of his thighs shining with sweat. I could make out the edge of a design there. A thigh tattoo? Oh God, I didn’t think I could take that. It was bad enough that the arm he had covered in ink was now flexed. That his pecs—one of which was also covered in beautiful designs—were bunched up like I’d never seen muscles bunch in real life. It was…
“Ouch,” I yelped, the moment the foot I’d kept up in the air unconsciously touched the ground.
Cameron’s eyes blinked open. And before I could prepare to say anything, to do anything but gawk, his large, glistening, and ridiculously flexible body was toppling to the floor. Sideways. Landing on the mat with a loud thud.
I gasped, starting for him.
But he grunted from the floor, “Don’t move.” And I froze on the spot.
“Are you… okay?”
“Jesus fuck,” he half growled, half sighed as a response. “I was unprepared.”
I opened my mouth to ask unprepared for what, but a dash of orange shot past me, distracting me from my words.
“She’s going to give me shit for that,” Cameron said when I glanced back at him. He sat up with a groan. “That was Pierogi. She likes to lie down at the end of my mat when I work out.”
Pierogi. His other cat. Yeah, I think I’d like to do the same thing, considering the views. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
His jaw clenched and when he looked up, his eyes fell on my chest. Shoulders. Legs. His gaze was all over the place, as if he couldn’t decide where to look next. He swallowed. “No point in denying that seeing you in my jersey sent me tumbling to the floor.”
My eyes widened. His jersey. “I didn’t mean to sleep in this. Matthew sent it so you would—” I stopped myself. “I didn’t tell him about you. He found out accidentally. With a picture I took. He’s such a huge soccer fan, he recognized you from your profile. I—”
“I’ll give him a signed jersey,” Cameron offered. Simply. Curtly.
“He will appreciate it. No, he will love you for that.” And I had no idea why, but I remembered in that exact moment that I was wearing no underwear underneath. I tugged at the hem. “I… think we should probably talk? Last night was kind of a mess, and you must have questions.”
“Will you?”
I frowned in question.
“Appreciate it,” he said, standing up in a swift motion. He crossed the distance to where I stood in long determined strides and stopped right in front of me. Our eyes met. “Because I’m only offering for you.”
I honestly didn’t know what to do with that information. “Yes,” I heard myself say. “I would appreciate it.” I already did. More than he knew.
Cameron nodded. “What do you want to talk about, then?”
Everything, I should have said. But he was standing so close, with all that beautiful inked and glistening skin on display, looking at me so… intently, that I just babbled the first thing I could. “I owe you an apology. For last night.”
Cameron’s head tilted to the side. “You don’t, not really.” His arm rose and the back of his hand brushed my forehead. “How’s the pain, darling?”
My lips parted at the touch. The question. “It’s… I’m okay,” I mumbled. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
A hum climbed up his throat. “I wonder who made you believe you don’t deserve to be fussed over,” he said so simply and honestly that I could only blink. “I was worried last night and I am worried now.” His brows knotted. “In fact, I might be a little mad, too.”
“You might?”
The pad of his thumb moved, grazing my jaw very briefly. I felt myself melt under that featherlight touch. “You should have called me.”
The word left me in a whisper. “Why?”
“Because you needed me, and I wasn’t there with you, and I hated that.” His lips bent down, and my heart resumed at double pace from the weight of his words. “Then I get a trail of messages and I go to you and find you in my shirt. That some other guy sent you.” He dropped his hand. “And I was never a jealous man.”
A jealous man.
“I think I need to sit down,” I said, hopping back a step.
Cameron’s body followed behind mine. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To sit—” I was lifted up. “Oh my God.” I snapped my legs closed, helpless to do anything else as Cameron whirled around with me in his arms. “You really need to stop picking me up like that.”
“I’d rather not,” he countered in a serious voice before planting me on a stool at the kitchen island. He turned around and produced a small pillow.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “What do you mean, you’d rather not?”
He wrapped a hand around my legs—one single hand—lifted them up and placed them on the pillow he had set on a second stool.
“Cameron,” I hissed. “You really have to stop that.”
“Go ahead and tell me why,” he said, ignoring me and coming to my back. I sensed his head closing in, his chin touching my shoulder. “I’m sure there’s some elaborate reason why I can’t help you to a chair,” his words fell on my cheek. Goosebumps erupted. “Feminism? A Taylor Swift song? Your twelve-step plan to drive me to insanity?”
“What—” The stool moved, with me in it, as I was pushed closer to the island. I felt the hem of the jersey ride up with the change. “Because I’m not wearing any underwear,” I blurted out.
Cameron froze.
He did so for a very loud and boisterous instant, if a moment could ever feel like that. “Oh,” he breathed out, the word falling on my neck. “How I wish you wouldn’t have told me that.”
“You asked the reason,” I countered, because he had.
“I’ll bring you a pair of shorts or sweats.” A long exhale left him, moving away. “After.”
“After what?”
“Breakfast.” He went around the island, threw open the fridge, and looked at me over his shoulder. “Sweet or savory?”
I hesitated for just an instant.
An instant long enough for Cameron to start pulling all sorts of things out. An assortment of fruits, milk, juice, butter, eggs, a few jars of jam, something that looked a lot like overnight oats, cheese, and even ham. Prosciutto, if I wasn’t wrong. And once everything was out, he moved along the cabinets and plucked a pack of sliced bread off a shelf and threw it on the now overflowing island.
I blinked at the display. “Are you like a human squirrel or something?”
“I might also have frozen croissants,” he said, nonchalantly, like he wasn’t confirming that he, in fact, had squirrel tendencies. He went to the freezer, giving me a panoramic view of his almost naked backside in those rather tiny shorts as he leaned down, and pulled out what had to be the frozen croissants.
I gawked at everything before me, including him, brain still fuzzy from looking at his ass in those shorts. I shook my head. “Is this… what you usually have?”
I watched him toggle with the oven controls. “I already ate.”
“Are you expecting anyone for breakfast?” The reminder I was in a soccer jersey and commando underneath slammed right back into me. “If someone is coming, I have to change.” I tried to pull myself off the stool, but my legs were up and he’d pushed me too close. “I need to shower. Get dressed. I should probably go see a doctor to get— Oh God, my car. Is it still at the Vasquez farm? Maybe I could call someone to go pick it up. I don’t know where my phone is. I—”
Cameron was suddenly there, by my side. “Ada, darling,” he said with a smile. A big and soft smile. I was dazed silly. “What you need to do is stay where you are. In my kitchen. Hydrate. Eat breakfast. Then, couch or bed, your pick. The doctor will come see you here. I’ve already called.”
I— What? “Don’t—”
“Tell you what to do? Treat you like someone who had a horrible day yesterday and deserves a fucking break?” He gave me a shrug and placed a plate I hadn’t seen him grab in front of me. “First, food. Then, shower. Then, doctor. Then, whatever else you want. Netflix and chill, or nap until lunchtime.” A mug was produced and set in front of me, too. “I left you towels and a bathrobe in your room.”
Towels. A bathrobe.
My room.
My chest felt funny. “Do you even know what ‘Netflix and chill’ means?”
“No.” The smile returned. “But I don’t really care,” he said, returning to the other side of the island. “You didn’t say if you preferred sweet or savory so here’s all I have.”
“Unless you’re planning on feeding the whole town, I’d say that’s a little too much.”
Cameron glanced at everything he’d set on the island. His hand went to his chest, and he absently patted a spot right above a rose that spanned part of his tattooed pec. I decided it was my second-favorite tattoo. His fingers moved, and I wondered how the skin of his chest would feel to the touch with all that ink. Would it have texture? Would it be as soft and smooth as the arm I’d touched what felt like an eternity ago? I wanted to place my hands on him and—
“You need to stop looking at me like that, love.”
My eyes snapped right back to his face.
Ada darling. Love. That smile on his face again.
I couldn’t keep up.
“I was not looking,” I whispered, cheeks flaming.
“You were, and my ego fucking loved it.” He braced his hands on the island and leaned forward. “Other parts of me, too.”
I thought I choked on my own breath. My gaze started to dip but I stopped myself. No more gawking. Specifically, not under his waist.
A chuckle left him, the sound as distracting as the rest of him. “I’ll grab a quick shower while the oven preheats. Then I’ll get breakfast ready for you before I leave.”
And without so much as a nod from my side, he turned around and walked out of the kitchen, leaving me to my thoughts and a set of wildly inappropriate images of him under the water stream.
Sunday came and went in another blur of naps. And Monday wasn’t all that different. So when Cameron returned he found me exactly in the place he’d moved me to before running out to do some errands: on his larger-than-life couch, clad in an indigo blue bathrobe, with my bad ankle up on a pillow and Willow curled by my side.
He appeared in front of me, his arms full of bags. “What did the doctor say?”
Leave it to him to cut straight to the chase. “You shouldn’t have called and asked them to come. I can move just fine. A house call for a sprained ankle is a stretch.”
Cameron carefully placed everything on the coffee table and ignored my complaint. His gaze returned to my face, his expression waiting, patient. Unbothered. He arched his brows.
I sighed. “It’s a low-grade sprain. I should stay off it for a few days, and I’ll be fine in a week.”
He shot me a skeptical look.
I rolled my eyes. “From one to three weeks. It depends.”
“That’s what I thought.” A slow nod. “Are you hungry?”
“I’m still stuffed from breakfast,” I answered honestly. He’d pulled out so much food—again—that I’d had as much as I could just so he wouldn’t have to throw anything away. And that included a new bag of mini croissants. I averted my eyes, summoning the will to say everything I’d thought about while he’d been away. “Listen, I appreciate you raiding your pantry, feeding me, and… helping me out, but I think I should go now.”
“Why?”
This man and his questions. “Because.”
“Because what?”
I glanced up. He was looking at me with a focused expression. “Because this is your home, Cameron. Because I don’t have my clothes or my things or…” Any dignity left after this weekend, frankly. “You’re an excellent host and even a better neighbor. If I were to leave you a Yelp review I’d call it high-quality grandmotherly care, but I can take care of myself and we can go back to normal now.”
“Grandmotherly.” He let out with a low chuckle. Ugh, those stupidly low chuckles he went throwing around. “Did not expect to be compared to a nan. What about me is grandmotherly?”
“Well, look at me.” I waved my arms in the air. “You fed me, put me in the coziest bathrobe, and found me all the pillows in the house.”
“Are you not comfortable?”
I shook my head. “I am. I don’t think I’ve ever been this comfortable in my life.”
The corners of his lips twitched, and I couldn’t believe it, but he had the audacity to look smug. He pointed in the vicinity of my lap. “Willow doesn’t like people. She hates everyone, and after dragging her here, that also included me.” He tilted his head. “I don’t think she’s that bothered anymore.”
I looked down at the cat, recalling that first time I’d seen her. She’d scratched Cameron’s arm. “Maybe she senses something’s off and feels bad for me.”
“Maybe she can’t stay away anymore.”
Anymore? Our gazes met. And his was so intense, different, that I flushed. Were we talking about Willow? “Maybe I… like that she likes me. It makes me feel special. Is that lame?”
“It’s not,” he said, Adam’s apple bobbing. “But if you keep being that sweet, she’ll stick to your side and never look back. And that…” Something crossed his face. “It would complicate things.”
My heart pounded in my chest. “I’m not stealing your cat,” I croaked, feeling my skin heat up under the bathrobe. “And I should really go.”
Cameron’s eyes were on me for one more instant and then, his focus shifted to the bags. He pulled out the contents. Sweaters, short- and long-sleeved shirts, wool-lined fleeces, pants, socks. Every item in shades of greens, burgundies, and grays. Every item just like the ones he owned, all very functional-looking and… small. Much smaller than what I expected his size to be.
“Cameron?” I asked, my voice coming out rocky, because he couldn’t have, could he? “What’s all of this?”
He grabbed a mustard beanie and inspected it up close. “These are clothes. You know, they’re meant to keep your body warm and protected. And yes, they are appropriate for the area and season even if they’re not up to Vogue’s standards.”
“You’ve lived in L.A., you should know that I’m the furthest thing from a fashionista or whatever you’re implying. You’ve dated—”
“Your ankle begs to differ.”
“My heels—”
“You don’t need them now.” He moved to a new bag and pulled out a pair of outdoor boots. “You’ll look just as beautifully imposing in these.” My lips bobbed silently. Beautifully imposing? “Once your ankle swelling comes down, of course. Until then,” he paused, his eyes traveling down my robe and his face doing a strange thing. “You stay right where you are. I need to run back to town for practice, so Josie will come check on you. She insisted after she heard what shape you’re in.” A pause. “She also mentioned something about helping you move in to Lazy Elk, so be prepared.”
My body sprung up. “I’m not moving in.”
Cameron shrugged, but there was a smirk underneath the feigned indifference.
“Absolutely not,” I croaked, pushing up. “I don’t need—”
“We’re going to hit pause on the independent routine, okay?” His voice lowered, all amusement gone. “You’re staying here until you can walk. And I’m taking care of you, hear me? You’re going to let me. And I hope to God you don’t make me fight you over this, Adalyn, because I promise you, I will. I’ll burn that goddamn shack down if I must.”
Adalyn. It felt so odd to hear him say my name. So… ordinary after knowing what being called Ada darling or love felt like.
God. I was a mess.
“Okay,” I said, and I must have been acting like a handful because Cameron looked shocked for a moment. I felt horrible. I settled down on the couch with a sigh. “Thank you for taking care of all these things.” Thanks for taking care of me. “But please, don’t burn down the cabin. I’d hate to have to bail you out after they charge you with arson.”
He gave me one of those lopsided smirks.
I averted my eyes. The effect of him actively taking care of me was so loud and clear in my head that I feared Cameron saw it written all over my face. Saw how good it made me feel. Saw how sweet I thought him buying clothes for me was. Even if they were ugly.
The truth was that I didn’t have much experience being in this position.
When I’d dated David, we’d spent most of our time busy with our own individual lives. He had never gone out of his way to do things for me, and I hadn’t, either. Thinking back to it, we’d started seeing each other because it had been suggested by our respective fathers. Maybe even expected. It made sense for the son and daughter of business partners to date. So we… had. It hadn’t been perfect or romantic, but I’d settled. I’d convinced myself I was content, that every relationship was different. I wasn’t the loving, affectionate type so, naturally, I shouldn’t expect the same from a man.
And now this one man who had been crystal clear about not liking me was doing all these things for me. He was rescuing me and feeding me breakfast and getting me clothes and telling me he was going to take care of me. I didn’t understand how we’d gotten here. And I didn’t know what to do with all these emotions rioting in my chest, making it feel tight.
“Darling?” Cameron’s voice brought me back to his living room, to the couch I had been carefully settled on by his arms, and all the plush pillows he’d placed around me. “What happened yesterday? What made you so frightened?”
Frightened. I had been scared, hadn’t I?
I let out a shaky breath, and I was suddenly so tired of wondering why he even cared, or asked, that I didn’t bother fighting him anymore. I answered with the truth.
“Someone reminded me why I am here. That I messed up back home. And I don’t know how to fix it other than to do what I’m told. For a moment yesterday, I almost fooled myself into thinking that I’m fine and this is all okay and not a complete and utter mess.” I shrugged, and perhaps it was the way Cameron was looking at me, not a trace of judgment in his eyes, or perhaps it was something else, but I added, “You were looking at me the way you are now. Just like that. I didn’t want it to end.”
His words were soft, barely a whisper. “Like what?”
“Like I’m something precious. Worth looking at.”
His face fell. “Why would you think otherwise?”
“Because no one ever looks at me that way.”