Cam felt like a double agent, texting Jane updates as the bachelor party wore on. Most of them consisted of variations on “Still no strippers,” but he kept sending them anyway, mostly because she always replied with pithy, amusing reports on what she was up to.
He could see why she was such a successful writer. She managed to retain a kind of critical distance from her surroundings that allowed her to comment on them objectively. It’s like she was at the party but not at the party. Which was pretty much how Jane operated all the time, he realized. Which, in turn, was actually kind of sad. She was a bit of an outsider, a position he identified with, but it was no way to live all the time.
Maybe that’s why she’d been so gorgeous and exhilarated at the CN Tower and at the falls—she’d been utterly immersed, so fully present that she wasn’t able to stand outside the experience in order to comment on it. Maybe that’s what the “goddess mode” phrase that had popped into his head to describe her in those scenarios had meant.
The thing was, he liked her both ways. He liked the goddess; he liked the wry commentator. But he needed to shut that shit down because whoever she was, she deserved better than him.
She’d even sent him a picture of her painted toes along with a frowny face emoticon. “You’re the only person who’s ever going to see these besides the girls,” she’d texted. When he’d asked why, she’d replied, “The wedding shoes are close-toed, as are all of my own. Elise would never allow green for the ceremony, anyway, so they’re gonna be short-lived.”
If you’d asked him, he would have said, objectively, that bright green was not a sexy color for toenails. It should have brought to mind fungus. Gangrene.
It turned out he had been wrong. Which was why he kept going back and looking at the damned picture.
“Whose foot is that?”
Cam fumbled the phone. He hadn’t realized that Jay had slid into the big semicircular booth that was otherwise empty. Though the beer was still flowing, the party had diffused as the night wore on. Some of the guys were playing darts, and a couple were daring each other to try to pick up women. Small groups formed and reformed. Everyone was making Cam feel welcome—Jay’s friends were good guys—but he was enjoying a bit of a breather. Well, he was enjoying Jane’s toes, truth be told.
“Come on,” Jay said, trying to grab the phone. “Who is that?”
“Cut it out!” Cam laughed as he rolled away farther down the booth, the maneuver reminding him of when they used to play-wrestle when he was a kid and Jay was home from university on visits. Jay would swarm him and then teach him how to escape his holds.
“Ah, the patented Jay Smith rollaway!” his brother said. “I’ve taught you well, young Jedi.”
Maybe it was the shooters Jay’s friends kept bringing around, but Cam hadn’t felt this at ease with his brother since…well, since those days when he was little. “You did,” he agreed. “You taught me a lot of good stuff.”
Jay looked startled for a moment. “Was that Christie?” he asked, handing the phone back without snooping into it any further. “Are you guys back together?”
He shook his head. “Nah.” He waited for the forthcoming lecture, but it didn’t come. Hell, he would blame it on the booze later, but damned if he wasn’t going to tell the truth. Well, not about the green toes. One thing at a time.
“Christie dumped me, actually.”
Jay’s eyes widened. Yeah, that was so not the role Jay had cast his brother in. “Oh, man, I didn’t realize. I’m sorry.”
Cameron shrugged. “It was for the best, probably.”
“When did this all go down?”
“Well, I was…back unexpectedly early, as you know. So I went to her place to surprise her.”
“Wasn’t it your place, too? You guys were going to move in together.”
Cam nodded. He’d given up his apartment before the last deployment, which was what most reservists did before a tour, but he hadn’t bothered worrying about post-tour accommodations because they’d decided he’d move in with Christie when he got back.
“What happened?”
The humiliation was still fresh. He’d been imagining one of those emotional “soldier surprises loved one” reunions like you saw on YouTube. “Well, she wasn’t expecting me just then. Neither was her…friend.” God. He couldn’t even say it.
But Jay must have understood because he said, “Jesus Christ. I’m sorry.” Then his eyes narrowed and he added, “You know what? Fuck her.”
Cam barked a startled laugh. His brother was pretty straitlaced. He didn’t swear much. “Well, I can’t, see. That role is already taken.” It was Jay’s turn to laugh, and it was gratifying. Cam couldn’t think when was the last time he’d made his big brother laugh. “I honestly think it was for the best, though.”
Because, really, it had set him straight. He’d gotten comfortable enough with Christie that he’d been starting to write off Alicia as an aberration. But the universe had bitch-slapped him back to reality. What do they say? Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. So, yeah, lesson learned: no more relationships for him.
“Did you love Christie?” Jay asked.
Whoa. How had they gotten from laughing to this heavy shit so quickly? Cam’s normal MO would be to make a joke at this point. He opened his mouth to do just that but then closed it. Maybe if he said nothing, his brother would back off. But no, Jay wasn’t letting him off the hook, was gazing at him evenly with those bright aqua eyes that were the only trait the brothers shared. Well, shit. He’d started this whole truth thing, hadn’t he? “I thought I did. I wanted to.” He made a strangled noise of frustration. It was hard to explain, both because he was having trouble finding the words but also because he didn’t do shit like share his feelings. “I was trying to grow the fuck up. To commit to something. To someone. To her.”
Jay nodded. “It’s an admirable impulse, but I don’t think you can decide to love someone, no matter how good your intentions. It’s more…oh, forget it. Who am I? Dr. Phil?”
“Nah, you’re the Jedi Master, remember?” Cam knocked his shoulder against Jay’s. “So go ahead, dispense your wisdom, Oh Wise One.” He was kidding, but he really did want to hear what his brother had to say.
“I don’t really have any wisdom. It’s just that it probably wasn’t fair to either you or Christie to try to force things. I mean, I’m sorry it ended like it did, and cheating on your deployed boyfriend is pretty much the worst thing I can imagine a person doing, so I still think she’s a grade-A asshole…” Cam smiled as Jay trailed off and steepled his fingers, which was something he did when he was thinking hard. “You can be open to love, I guess, but I don’t even think that really matters. I think love is more something that happens to you. Hits you. A ‘ready or not’ kind of thing.” He smirked. “So there’s your Dr. Phil sound bite.”
“Is that what happened to you?”
Jay’s thoughtful expression was replaced by a sheepish grin. “Yeah.”
Cam slapped him on the back. “Well, that’s awesome.”
“I know Elise has gone a little bit crazy with this wedding. You’re not seeing her in her best light…”
“Don’t worry about it, man.” Elise wasn’t seeing Cam in his, either. The problem was he feared he’d lost the version of himself that Jay could be proud to introduce to his wife-to-be. Like when he flew home from his trial to find some other dude in what was supposed to be his home, he had become untethered from the man he was becoming. And it didn’t feel like something you got a second chance at, certainly not after having failed as spectacularly as he had—on both the home and career fronts.
A commotion drew his attention to the far end of the bar, which was just as well, because he was getting maudlin. “Well, speak of the devil.”
Jay looked up. Cam wouldn’t have thought it possible, but his brother grinned and groaned at the same time. “Hey, don’t call my lovely bride the devil.”
He hadn’t been. He’d been thinking of another devil. One with green toenails.
“Whoa. My lovely, extremely drunk bride.” Jay stood up. “Excuse me.”
The pub where they’d spent the evening had definitely been humming, but it was a chill sort of hum as beer flowed and groups of friends—Jay’s party included—enjoyed their evening. The arrival of Elise’s posse turned everything up to eleven. There must have been fifteen of them, their pink cheeks and flushed eyes heralding their inebriation. They were dressed up, most of them in skirts and heels. Elise was wearing a sparkly silver skirt, a tight T-shirt that said, “Pop the bubbly, I’m getting a hubby,” and a veil.
Gia made a beeline for him. She was wearing a skirt, too, a tight black one, and her pink T-shirt said, “I Do Crew.” He picked out another woman in the same shirt, one he remembered from drinks the other night—that would be Wendy.
“Who’ya looking for?” Gia asked, plopping down next to him.
“I’m just taking in the sight of all you lovely ladies.”
Gia rolled her eyes, picked up his beer, and took a long swig. He liked Gia. She had balls.
She slammed the beer down. “Listen, you asshole. I don’t know what kind of whammy you’re putting on Jane, but—”
“Whoa. I’m not putting any ‘whammy’ on Jane.”
“Oh, shut up. I know you.”
“Uh, you actually don’t.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “I know your type.”
“And what type is that?” he asked, not bothering to try to keep the annoyance out of his voice.
“The player type.” She leaned in and looked him right in the eye. “Now listen. Jane could use some fun. I’m all for that.” She poked him in the chest. “But you manage her expectations, you hear me?”
“I’m not really sure what expectations you—”
“Oh, shut up, Cameron. The bottom line is this: you hurt Jane, and not only do you have me to answer to, you’ll have Elise and Wendy all up in your face. We’re a goddamned sisterhood, so don’t fuck with us.” She picked up his beer and chugged the rest of it. “Understood?”
“Understood,” he said. Because it was. He could bluster and pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about, but she saw through him. From the sounds of things, Jane’s last boyfriend had been a dick. It was understandable that her friends wanted to prevent her from repeating the same mistake. He and Gia were totally on the same page there. He and Jane had had the one crazy kiss, but it stopped there.
Without a word, Gia slid out of the booth. He watched her return to a cluster of women, and as if to illustrate her earlier point, she slung her arms around two of them—Wendy and Jane, clad in matching “I Do Crew” T-shirts. Wendy continued the skirt theme, but not his Jane. Nope, she had on her usual jeans—dark, dressy ones, and a pair of pink flats that matched the shirt. She would say that the shirt was too small for her. He would say that the shirt fit just right. Damn. Gia was a model. She was beautiful, objectively. She was also about six feet tall and built like a beanpole. Jane, on the other hand…you could grab on to Jane.
“Cameron!”
His dirty thoughts were interrupted by the fourth member of Gia’s self-proclaimed sisterhood and his future sister-in-law. Elise slid right up next to him and kissed him on the cheek. “Jay says I have to be nicer to you.”
Jay, sliding in on her other side, said “Lise, give it a rest.”
“What?” She batted her eyes with faux innocence. “You know I always do what you say, Jay.”
Whoa. That last bit was delivered in a sultry tone that made Cam flick his gaze to his brother. If Cam wasn’t mistaken, there was a bit of heat in them as he looked at his bride-to-be. Well, damn. Apparently his mild-mannered accountant brother had a bit of the bad boy in him, too.
His other conclusion: everyone in the world was getting laid except him. Because it wasn’t only the sparks flying between the bridal couple as Jay leaned over and whispered something into Elise’s ear that made her suck in a sharp breath, it was the scene around him. The bachelorettes had dispersed themselves among the bachelors, and the air was charged. He started to slide out of the booth, figuring a trip to the bar to replenish the drink that Gia had stolen would be an excuse to give the lovebirds a little privacy. He’d only just made it to his feet when he heard a quiet voice from behind.
“I want you to make me eggs Benedict tomorrow.”
He jumped about a foot even though the voice was low-pitched so only he could hear it. How had she managed to sneak up on him? He’d barely had his eyes off her since she arrived. And, more importantly: holy fuck, was she propositioning him?
“Jane,” he said, trying to buy some time to get his bearings—and possibly also to get his dick to calm down. He looked at her feet, which was dumb because he already knew her toes were going to be covered by her shoes. “How are you?”
“I am hungry. For eggs Benedict. In the morning.”
Jesus Christ, she was propositioning him. “What happened to pregnancy scares? Ax murderers? What happened to efficiency?”
“Cameron, I’ve just come from a gay club. It was full of hot, shirtless men writhing against each other. The girls have been talking about sex all evening. I’m starting to think you might be onto something with that whole human touch theory of yours.”
“Aha!” He couldn’t help gloating. “You’re horny.” And so was he. She was right; there were pheromones in the air tonight, and that shit was contagious.
“You are correct.”
“You’re also drunk.” And thank God for it. He needed an out, an excuse to do the honorable thing. “I don’t do drunk hookups.”
She tilted her head at him. “Why not?”
“Because there’s this little thing called consent? Give me a little credit, Jane.”
She smiled, a slow, knowing Cheshire cat sort of smile, and lifted a glass that appeared to be full of cola. “I am stone-cold sober, my friend. Which is another reason this party is wearing on me.”
His dick twitched. “Yeah, you don’t realize how stupid drunk people are until you’re the only sober one in a group of them.”
She hitched her head toward the exit. “So let’s get out of here.”
He sighed. “I can’t.”
“You’re turning me down.”
He winced, and though she hadn’t phrased it as a question, he nodded, trying to think how to say some variation on “it’s not you, it’s me,” and not sound like an asshole. “It’s not a good idea, Jane. I can’t be the kind of guy you—”
“It’s just sex, Cameron. That’s all.”
Her declaration gave him pause. Was it possible that he and Jane really could enjoy a fallout-free hookup? Because, damn, he could get into that idea. But no. He thought of Gia all up in his face a little while ago. It was too slippery a slope.
“Are you, who have been talking about nothing but getting laid since you got to town, trying to tell me that I’m not allowed to have meaningless sex?” Jane went on.
“That’s not what I’m saying…” I’m saying I like you too much to have sex with you. I’m saying you deserve someone better. I’m saying I’m not sure it would be just sex, and it’s not just your reaction I’m worried about.
He wished she would interrupt him again, but she did not. She simply stared at him with that single damned eyebrow raised. He started again. “Of course you can have meaningless sex. I just don’t…”
“You don’t want to,” she said, and the hurt that flared momentarily in her eyes might as well have been an inferno engulfing him.
“No!” God, could he dig a bigger hole for himself here? He was trying to protect her from him, but was it possible he was hurting her more by turning her down?
The answer to this late-breaking question was irrelevant though, because the hurt disappeared from her eyes, replaced by steel, as she said, “That’s okay. I’ll find someone who does.”
And eff him if she didn’t then turn on her heel and march up to a group of guys at the bar. And they weren’t even bachelor party guys. No, they were, to use her term, “randoms.”
* * *
Ten minutes later, Cam was accosted again, this time by two of Jay’s groomsmen, a fellow accountant named Kent, and Andy, who was Elise’s brother.
“She’s cute, eh?” said Kent, a quiet guy who hadn’t made much of an impression on Cam.
“Who?”
“Jane,” he said, nodding to where Jane was clinking her glass against the beer bottle of some pretty, overgrown frat boy type. “You know, the one you’ve been staring at?”
Andy snickered.
“I haven’t been staring at her,” Cameron said, staring at her. Shit. She leaned in to let Captain America whisper something in her ear, and then she threw her head back with laughter that seemed irritatingly genuine.
“I’m just checking because I’ve been thinking of asking her out,” Kent went on. “Wanted to make sure that you guys weren’t…you know.”
Cam shook his head as Jane put her hand on the Ralph Lauren model’s forearm. For someone who claimed to not date and not hook up, she was pretty good at flirting. He had to make a conscious effort to unlock his jaw to say, “Jane doesn’t date.”
“What do you mean, she doesn’t date? She’s single, isn’t she?” It was true, but even if it wasn’t, this unassuming Kent dude was not the guy for her.
“Yeah, but she’s not in the market for a guy,” Cam said. Except tonight, apparently, she was. Kent, however, did not need to know that.
“I have to say, I’m afraid he’s right,” Andy said to Kent, nodding in Jane’s direction. “I’ve known Jane since she and Elise were freshmen in university. She’s had one boyfriend in all that time. She doesn’t seem interested.”
Cam refrained, but only just, from turning to Kent and saying neener, neener, neener.
“So what is that, then?” Kent asked, nodding as Jane went on her tiptoes to say something into the prepster’s ear that made him drop his drink like a hot potato, grab her hand, and start towing her out of the pub.
“That is…”
…not happening.
Cam was up, propelled across the room by pure unadulterated jealousy that was as shocking as it was strong. He had never been jealous before, not even when he’d walked in on Christie with his replacement, not really. He’d been angry, yes, but more at the loss of the life he’d thought he was coming back to. And even that had rapidly been replaced by resignation.
But right now he could murder both Kent the Accountant and Captain America without blinking. And he’d do it, too, before either of them touched Jane.
Goddammit. If Jane was bound and determined to pick up a guy tonight, he was the least problematic one here. Which was ironic as hell, because the whole point of rejecting her had been to protect her from him. But despite his many faults, Cam appreciated Jane—her quirks, her insecurities, her humor. He knew how to make her loosen up.
He would regret this later, but not as much as he would regret watching her leave with one of the other assholes here.
When he came up behind Jane and Captain America, the dickhead had his hand on her lower back as he propelled her toward the door. Cam reached out and took hold of the guy’s cuff between his thumb and forefinger and lifted his arm away from Jane like it was a bag of stinky garbage. He was wearing a long-sleeved pinstriped button-down, for fuck’s sake. Even if she was only in it for a hookup, this banker-wanker was not the right guy for the job.
“Excuse me?” The dude turned with a kind of amused superiority that drove home Cam’s point.
“Time to go, Janie,” he said, placing his hand firmly against her lower back, aiming for exactly the spot where Captain America’s hand had been. She raised her eyebrows and opened her mouth. Before she could issue the protest he knew was coming, he closed his mouth over hers, a quick kiss, but a deep, decisive one. One that made his point to her admirer. To her, too. Then he pulled away and said, “Your eggs Benedict awaits.”