Cam woke up cold and stiff in all the wrong places. Sleeping on the hardwood floor was not fun. But he’d needed to be close, just in case. Ira hadn’t needed anything in the night, but Cam was glad he’d stayed, achy back and all.
He sat up with a grunt, feeling around for his sweatshirt. A glance in Ira’s direction assured Cam he was fast asleep. He looked better this morning, the natural color of his face gaining ground against last night’s pale skin and flushed cheeks.
Wriggling out of his sleeping bag to stand up, Cam stretched, feeling the snap and pops as he tried to get rid of the kinks from the uncomfortable floor. Ira still didn’t stir. Cam pulled on his sweatshirt and went to the bathroom.
A quick search in the little kitchen turned up a single-serve coffee machine hiding in a cabinet and coffee pods to go with it. Cam started a cup for himself and leaned back against the counter as he waited for it to brew. Last night’s conversation replayed in his head. He’d wondered what Ira’s truth was. It didn’t surprise him to find out Ira’d been married and had a son close to Cam’s age. He’d guessed there was something in Ira’s history that made him act the way he did.
He couldn’t imagine leaving everything he knew, moving across the country to a place he’d never been before. He splashed milk into his cup before taking a big sip. The coffee was strong and warmed his stomach. Even with the way his family behaved, Cam had never considered leaving Skagit. Skagit was his home. The hard parts, mostly his family and the church, were outweighed by Cam’s friends and the community he worked in. The mountains, rivers, and paths to the Pacific Ocean were right here too; why would he go anywhere else?
If he ever had enough money to go to college, he wanted to go the local university. Cam had aspirations to greater things than bartending at the Loft. Each fall he was jealous of the new students arriving in town from locations far away, fresh and bright and ready to take on the world. It was funny how many of them stayed after graduation. Falling in love with Skagit just like Cam.
Going to college was closer to becoming more than a pipe dream. At least it had been until the recent trip to the ER. That was going to take a chunk of his savings. But someday he’d get his degree, and then he would be able to work as a social worker or counselor.
Sterling teased him, saying he already did that at the bar. Cam laughed with him, but Sterling was right; Cam already acted as a counselor to many of the customers who came in with sad stories about their lives. It was his favorite thing about his job, talking to people.
Leaving his coffee on the kitchen counter, all twelve inches of it, Cam snooped around the tiny cabin. It was basically three rooms: kitchen, bathroom, and main area, and there was a ladder heading up to what looked like a sleeping loft.
He climbed a few rungs to poke his head over the edge. A double futon with rumpled covers and a mashed pillow were laid down in the small space. There was a little built-in bookshelf. Ira had several books on artistic process, huh. Several well-read bestsellers, and stacks of what looked like sketchbooks. Cam heard a muffled grumpy rumble from the couch and backed down the ladder.
“Hey, you’re awake.”
“I’m not dead, anyway.” Cam stifled a chuckle at the state of Ira. His salt-and-a-little-pepper hair was sticking up in all directions. He hadn’t shaved for a few days, and his stubble was coming in glinting with silver. It made him look ridiculously handsome and sexy. It was completely unfair, since the man had been sick for days and probably hadn’t taken a shower or changed his clothes during that time.
He opened his mouth to ask how Ira was feeling, but Ira spoke first. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
Cam flushed. “You busted me being curious.”
“Ah, I keep all evidence of my hedonistic lifestyle in my studio.”
“Studio?”
“Oh, you hadn’t found it yet?” Ira had a humorous gleam in his eyes. “You may not have noticed it if it was dark when you got here. I don’t leave the lights on over there.”
Cam couldn’t help himself; he went to look out the window to see this mysterious studio for himself.
“It’s the other direction.”
Sure enough, about one hundred feet from the back door, tucked under a gigantic Douglas fir, was a tiny building probably half the size of the cabin.
“You really have a studio?” Cam asked, amazed. He’d had no idea Ira was an artist. There was a lot to learn about the man, he supposed, if Ira let him. In less than twenty-four hours he’d learned so much.
“I just told you so, didn’t I?” Ira rumbled, his tone nearly, but not quite, pissed off.
A cough interrupted anything else Ira was going to say. Cam remembered the real reason he was there—and it wasn’t to satisfy his curiosity about Ira’s life. He went back through the kitchen and poured a glass of water, taking it to where Ira was ensconced. “How are you feeling? What can I bring you?”
Ira sipped the water. “I think I’m hungry.” There was a tone of amazement to Ira’s voice that Cam found ridiculously endearing. “But what I really want to know is, how did you get those bruises on your face? Something happen at work? I never pegged you for the bar brawl type.”
Cam stopped in his tracks. “Uh.” Crud.
He’d forgotten about the bruises, and yesterday in the cabin’s dim light they had probably been hard to see. Unfortunately, this morning the sun was out and the cabin was much brighter, allowing Ira a better view of Cam’s injuries.
“Is that a bandage on your arm?” Ira demanded.
“Uh,” he started again, but petered out because he didn’t know what to say. Cam didn’t need, or want, Ira feeling sorry for him.
“Did some motherfucker attack you?” Ira sat up too quickly and began coughing, his face growing red with the effort to breathe.
Cam ran back to the kitchen and refilled Ira’s water glass, then shoved it back in his hand. Cam watched Ira’s Adam’s apple move up and down as he drank. From his determined expression, Cam was not getting out of telling him what had happened.
“Somebody jumped me outside work. Tried to hit me in the head, I guess. I heard him, though, and he mostly missed me. It’s all good.” He waved his wrapped arm dismissively, trying to brush the episode aside as if it were nothing.
“He mostly missed you with what?” Ira growled.
Cam shut his eyes, sighed, and opened them again. Ira’s angry glare was still there. “A baseball bat, I think.”
“You ‘think’ someone tried to hit you with a baseball bat,” Ira repeated, his tone icy. “Was it someone you recognized?”
Fuck.
“Uh.” Cam scrabbled through what remained of his brain to try and come up with something, but under Ira’s scowl he quailed and lost the battle. Slumping against the wall, Cam muttered, “I think it was a guy I grew up with.”
It had been Karl, Cam knew, even though he hadn’t gotten a clear view of his face. Karl had a very distinctive limp. He’d been hit by a car when he’d been out riding his bike one day. The driver had hit him right in front of all the neighbor kids playing in the street and driven on oblivious, dragging him for about fifty feet. Finally someone, Cam couldn’t remember who, had snapped out of their shock and run after the car, pounding on the window and screaming at the driver. Karl had spent a week in the hospital and come out with a limp and a different personality.
Ira opened his mouth to say something, no doubt to demand Cam turn Karl in to SkPD, when Cam’s phone rang. Cam found his phone in his messenger bag, surprised when he saw the call was from Sterling.
“Where the hell are you?”
Cam found himself stuttering through a garbled explanation of how he’d ended up playing nursemaid at Ira Fragale’s house. Meeting Ira’s amused gaze, he shrugged. What could he say? Ira stuck his hand toward Cam and gestured, making the international “Give me the phone” sign. Cam drew his eyebrows together, not really hearing what Sterling was ranting about, mouthing “Are you sure?” to Ira before handing him the phone.
“Sterling.” Ira’s voice was still raspy. “Don’t worry about Cameron, he’s safe.” There was a pause while Ira listened to whatever Sterling had to say. “Yeah, it was a genuinely nice gesture. No, I’m not taking advantage of his good nature.” Cam blushed. Oh god, Sterling was acting like a dad letting his baby out on a date for the first time. “Nothing has happened. Yes, I do realize I hurt him.”
Oh. My. God. Cam moved to grab the phone back so he could tell Sterling to fuck off, but Ira turned so he couldn’t without pushing him.
“You know, Sterling, Cameron is an adult and has the ability to make his own choices. If he and I choose to have sex and maybe a relationship, I really don’t think there is anything you can do about it. Cameron is a smart guy. Maybe you should remember that. I’m sure he knows what he’s getting into with me.”
More silence.
“Yeah, we are. And if it doesn’t work out, then you can come and talk to me again.” Ira ended the call.
“There. I told him we were taking it slow, working up to a more serious relationship. That should get him off our backs for a little while.”
“What are you thinking? Why would you say that? Sterling is going to be even worse now! He already thinks you’re toxic.”
“He does, does he? Well, I guess I’ll just have to prove him wrong.” Ira had a glint in his eye.
“No way. I’m not pretending we’re involved just so you can prove a point to my boss. The one who already treats me like I’m barely able to cross the street alone.” Cam tried to run his fingers through his hair, but it was too tangled. “Fucking hair, I’m gonna cut it off.”
“No,” Ira growled, moving closer and tossing Cam’s cell phone onto the couch, where it bounced and then slipped between the cushions. “No, don’t cut your hair. And yes, I am impulsive, but I thought you knew that by now. Impulsive enough to be serious about what I said to your boss.”
Cam stilled, almost afraid to move or even speak. Taking a deep breath, he tried to formulate his thoughts. As much as he had fantasized about Ira over the better part of the past year, he’d attempted to give up the dream that anything might actually happen between the two of them.
“You’re telling me you want to date me. Not go home with someone different every night? You’re going to give up all the glittery twinks who stroke your ego every time you’re in the bar?” As Cam spoke, he found himself getting angrier and angrier at Ira. “You know what? Fuck you. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on. I am not here for you to use to… to better your reputation with my boss. I am not a doormat.”
Cam was so angry he was shaking.
“You don’t get to suddenly change your mind when it’s convenient for you. You can’t jerk people around like that. Fuck. You.”
Two steps and he was at the couch, grabbing his phone from where it had fallen. He snatched his car keys from the kitchen counter and the bag with the change of clothes he’d brought yesterday. Ira stood there watching him, not saying a word.
“Don’t call me,” Cam shot as he slammed the front door shut behind him. The car started right up, thank god; he didn’t think he could handle throwing a fit and then being stuck out here and having to walk into town. The radio blared, filling the car with the voice of Tori Amos covering an old Nirvana song. He jabbed the button, trying to silence the radio, only to have it crank up even louder. Fuck it.
Jerking the car into gear, he gunned it into a three-point turn and sped up the driveway faster than he should have. Gravel popped from under the tires, smacking the underbody and tree trunks as he passed. He was still shaking with fury when he pulled out onto the road.