Jesus, she’s beautiful.

That thought is the only thing running through my head right now as Cameron lifts her chin and walks around me. The four-and-a-half years I spent away from her suddenly feel like fifty, and I want to grab on to her and never let go, make up for all the time I stayed away from her, but I know she’d probably smack my face again if I did that.

Judging by the look in her eyes and how quickly she moved away from me when I tried to hug her, I’m thinking I would get a closed fist to my nose instead of her palm. When Jason got a phone call from Cameron earlier while I was in the shower, he decided it was the perfect opportunity for me to come out to the camp and talk to her. My first thought was excitement. I just wanted to see her face and finally hear her voice again. With each mile I drove toward the camp, my trepidation grew, knowing she wasn’t going to take me just showing up back in her life like this very well.

I’m realizing I should have thought things through a little more, knowing how pissed off she’d be at me.

My eyes immediately go to her ass as she walks away, and I wonder how it’s possible for this woman to have gotten even hotter in four years than I ever imagined. Her skinny jeans cling to her curves and the knee-high boots she wears over them makes her long legs look like they go on for days. The green tank top she has on with the Camp Rylan logo printed over her chest was like a neon sign, flashing in front of my eyes and begging me to stare at how well she filled out the top of that flimsy piece of cotton. Even with a few random pieces of hay stuck in her long, thick blond hair, I still have to fight the urge to reach up and run my fingers through the soft tangles that fall down over her shoulders and halfway down her back.

Cameron James at twenty-six was a woman who didn’t even know the power of her own beauty. Cameron James at thirty is full of hurt, anger, and piss and vinegar, and the sway of her hips as she walks is determined and the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.

“I needed you and you weren’t here. I mourned him alone. I buried him alone. I fucking buried our best friend alone!”

Her words had me wishing I’d never quit drinking, but the tears in her eyes almost made me drop to my knees and cry like a fucking baby. I knew staying away had hurt her, but I never realized just how much until I was confronted with her pain. Until I saw her swallow back those tears and show me her anger instead. She has every right to be pissed at me. Every right to throw it in my face how much of a shitty person I’d been to her. I wanted to tell her why I stayed away. I wanted to explain to her about the drinking and the depression and the guilt and how I couldn’t let her see me like that. I couldn’t let her see me as anything other than the sober man that stood in front of her today.

She spent most of our lives trying to fix me and make things better and I can’t let her do that anymore. It’s my turn now. The camp still looks as amazing as it always has, and I know from Jason that Cameron is running it now. I don’t know how she could possibly need me for anything, but there’s no way in hell I’m walking away like she told me to. She’s hurting without Aiden, still, after nine months. I don’t blame her for that either. He was my best friend and I don’t think I’ll ever stop hurting. He was the love of her life. That’s something you don’t get over after nine months, or maybe ever. I wasn’t here to help her bury him, but I will be here to do whatever I can to make her hurt a little less.

“Who could that be?”

I look up to see that Cameron has stopped a few feet in front of me, staring down the driveway at a slowly approaching black stretch limo.

“CAMERON! EMERGENCY!”

We both turn toward the direction of the main house, and I see a woman about Cameron’s age running toward us at full speed, waving her arms above her head.

“BRAXTON STRATFORD IS COMING! BRAXTON STRATFORD IS COMING!” the woman screams with her arms still flailing around her head.

I watch Cameron slowly turn her head to the approaching limo, wondering what’s going on and who the hell Braxton Stratford is.

“Oh, shit. No, no, no. This is not happening right now. Son of a bitch,” Cameron whispers, her hands flying up to her hair, picking out pieces of hay and smoothing it down around her shoulders.

She’s nervously straightening her tank top, pulling the hem down and brushing dirt off of it as I walk up next to her and the limo stops a few hundred yards away.

“Who is that?”

Her head jerks toward me and she looks at me in shock, like she forgot I was here, before the shock is quickly replaced with anger.

“I thought I told you to leave. Why are you still here?” she growls.

“Who’s Braxton Stratford and why are you freaking out?” I try again.

“He’s the guy who’s going to save Camp Rylan.”

The young kid I saw standing next to Cameron when I pulled in a little bit ago walks up next to me.

“Shut up, Seth,” Cameron mutters.

“What do you mean, he’s going to save the camp?” I ask Seth, since Cameron obviously isn’t going to answer me and Seth doesn’t seem to care that his boss just told him to shut up.

“We don’t have any money. Our main benefactor kicked the bucket and we’re out of funds. This guy is our only hope if we want to stay open after this summer session,” Seth explains.

“You’re fired,” Cameron tells him through clenched teeth.

Seth just shrugs and smiles at her. “You don’t pay me. I’m a volunteer, so you can’t fire me.”

Cameron fires off a trail of muttered curses, and I hold back my laughter since I’m standing so close to her and I know she wouldn’t hesitate to use that right hook on me again.

The screaming woman running across the yard finally makes it to our group and stops on the other side of Cameron, bending over at the waist with her hand on her chest, trying to catch her breath.

“You…turned…off…radio,” she pants. “Stratford…is…here…early.”

We turn as a group toward the limo when the front door opens and a man in a black suit gets out, moving to the back door and opening it.

“I can see that,” Cameron replies dryly.

“I still don’t understand why we’re freaking out. This is an amazing camp. You have nothing to be nervous about,” I reassure Cameron as we wait for this Braxton guy to get out of the limo.

“We are not freaking out. I’m freaking out because this is my camp, and you can go fuck yourself, Everett,” Cameron informs me.

Seth laughs, but I’m too busy thinking about how good my name sounded coming from her lips, even if the sound of it was filled with venom, to pay him any attention.

“Holy shit, you’re Everett,” the woman on the other side of Cameron says, finally catching her breath and standing upright, grabbing on to Cameron’s arm and shaking it. “That’s Everett.”

“Shut up, Amelia.”

“Why are we freaking out if Everett’s here? This will work perfectly!” she exclaims, ignoring Cameron’s demand to be quiet just like Seth did, clapping her hands together in glee.

I’m not even sad I’ve been gone so long that Cameron has hired new employees I’ve never met. I’m too busy liking them a whole hell of a lot even though I just met them.

“What will work perfectly?” I ask, turning to face Seth since I know he’ll answer me.

“Braxton Stratford is…um, well, he’s kind of an eccentric, weird dude. Totally old school. He only gives his money to family-run businesses, and they have to be run by happily married couples,” Seth explains.

“So what’s the problem? Eli and Shelby are definitely happily married.”

Cameron’s parents are the type of couple that fairytales are made of. Every woman in the city of Charleston wanted a love like Shelby James had, and every man cursed the ground Eli James walked on for setting the bar so high.

“The problem is that Cameron convinced them to finally take a vacation, so they aren’t here to show him how disgustingly in love they are. They left for Outer Banks a few weeks ago, and she didn’t want to worry them about how bad the money problems were and that we only have, like, a month, maybe two left before we run out of funds. Stratford is literally our last hope. He’s the only guy that responded to any of her requests so far, but he wasn’t supposed to come out to the camp until the charity dinner in a few weeks when Shelby and Eli will be back home,” Seth finishes.

“Then, we just tell him that. I’m sure it’s not going to be a big deal. Everyone at camp and in this town can vouch for Shelby and Eli, and how perfectly they’ve run this place for thirty years. You don’t have anything to worry about,” I tell Cameron softly, wrapping my arm around her shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

“You don’t understand, man,” Seth sighs. “This guy has a really tight schedule. He’s most likely here because of a last-minute cancellation or something. He’s not gonna stick around for more than five minutes if he doesn’t get to meet the happily married couple who runs this place. I’m telling you, the dude is weird.”

Cameron jerks out of my hold and shoots me and Seth a look that could kill, just as Braxton exits the vehicle and starts walking toward us.

Seth was right. The guy is definitely eccentric, judging by his outfit alone. Wearing a purple suit with a bright yellow button-down underneath, he makes his way toward us using a cane sparkling with rhinestones.

“Jesus. He looks like Liberace on crack,” I mutter.

Seth snorts and Amelia laughs, which earns her a smack in the arm from Cameron, before she squares her shoulders and pastes a huge smile on her face when Braxton stops a few feet in front of her.

“Shelby James?” he questions.

Cameron steps forward and holds out her hand. “No, but I’m her daughter, Cameron James. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stratford. We weren’t expecting you until the charity dinner.”

He doesn’t even glance at her outstretched hand, just pulls a yellow pocket square out of the breast pocket of his suit coat and dabs his forehead and cheeks with it.

“I don’t shake hands. Too many germs,” Stratford states.

Cameron’s hand slowly falls back down to her side, and I have to resist the urge to walk around her and punch this asshole in the face, money or no money.

“I was under the impression I’d be meeting with the married owners of this camp. Are they not here?” he asks with a sigh, looking around the plantation instead of at Cameron when he speaks.

I can practically hear the panic swirling through Cameron as she clears her throat and tries to come up with something to say. Amelia’s happy proclamation a few minutes ago about me being here and how it will work perfectly suddenly makes sense. The idea takes root before I even have a chance to let it fully form and think about the repercussions, only thinking about the fact that this is it. This is the moment where Cameron needs me. I quickly wrap my arm around Cameron’s waist, turn her to face me, and yank her roughly against my body. The only thought in my head right now is Seth’s explanation that this guy will only give his money to happily married couples, and not about how good it feels to have Cameron pressed up against me.

Cameron’s body is molded to mine from chest to thigh and I tighten my arm around her when she tries to pull away, sliding my hand down to cup her ass and pull her lower body closer to mine. My brain momentarily forgets everything I’ve stored there for thirty-three years, even my own fucking name, as she looks up at me with those gorgeous green eyes and her teeth bite down on her full bottom lip. All I can think about is how long I’ve wanted to have her pressed this close to me. How long I’ve wanted to feel her breasts flattened against my chest, have my hand on her ass and have the freedom to do all of this without consequences. I quickly push those thoughts away because they have no business being in my head. I gave up on those desires a long time ago, and the only thing I want right now is to be her friend again.

“Well, you’re in luck, Mr. Braxton!” Amelia announces, her voice pulling me out of my lust-filled thoughts.

I give Cameron a look that hopefully tells her it wouldn’t be a good idea for her to punch me in the face right now.

“This is Everett Southerland, Cameron’s husband, and they’ve recently taken over running Camp Rylan in preparation for Mr. and Mrs. James’s retirement,” Amelia finishes, proving that she is, in fact, a very smart woman.

Cameron lets out a little squeak and I can tell she’s three seconds away from freaking out and completely losing her shit. Sure, I probably could have come up with a hundred different solutions to this problem if I’d had more time, but I didn’t. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision brought on by wanting to do whatever I could to help Cameron. One look at her panic-stricken face when she realized Stratford was here and I acted without thinking. I’m sure this idiotic decision will come back to bite me in the ass, and will bring on even more problems when Cameron’s parents come home or, I don’t know, Stratford does a little digging and finds out we’re not really married, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Or more than likely, Cameron will shove me off of that bridge.

I give Stratford a smile before looking back down at her. Keeping one hand still clutched tightly to her ass, I bring the other one up and brush her hair over her shoulder before wrapping it around her neck. Leaning my head down, I press my forehead to hers and smile, winking at her with my left eye so Stratford doesn’t see it.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, Cam,” I whisper softly, lifting my head and pressing my lips to her forehead.

Not only does Cameron need me to help her get over losing the man she loved, but it looks like she also needs me to help her convince a rich asshole that Camp Rylan is more than deserving of his money. I refuse to let this camp down when it saved me. And I refuse to let Cameron down when she did the same.

It’s about damn time the tables are turned. I’ll do whatever it takes to convince Cameron to forgive me for what I did to her, even if it means pretending to be her husband.

I spent the last six months fighting to stay sober and fighting to want to live again. Being in poverty-stricken countries with no clean water didn’t kill me, going to the most dangerous places around the world didn’t kill me, the booze didn’t kill me, and drowning in guilt didn’t kill me.

Going by how hard I am right now just holding Cameron close, I have a feeling this is the thing that will kill me. I know I’m only feeling like this right now because all of my memories of Cameron are wrapped up in the past, during a time when I’d wished for something more, and being here with her again is muddling everything.

I just need to get my head on straight and remember why I came back. To restore our friendship, nothing else. I owe it to her and Aiden.