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“You’re deep in thought,” John said, catching up. “I get that way too, when I come out here. All this open space puts things into perspective. How insignificant we are.”
“You’ve never said a truer word, John.”
“As you get to know me, you’ll see I’m full of wise tidbits.”
Cameron hurt so much, he laughed. “To have an ounce of your confidence.”
John preened. “Thank you. I find your blushing shyness equally adorable.”
Cameron stopped, swallowing. “Just when I think . . . you go and say that.”
John nodded. “I’m almost positive you’re a virgin, and I can’t wait to show you what you’re missing.”
“And then that.” Cameron sighed, trudging to an outcrop.
“Let’s not stop here,” John said. “There’s a better spot farther along.”
“We’ve walked quite far already, and it’s spitting.”
“Just a few drops. Five minutes, max. I’m sure we’ll spot penguins.”
They didn’t. Instead, the sky opened up on them.
Rain pinged like tacks against his jacket, slithered down his collar, drenched his jeans. He dug his numb fingers into his pockets.
John unwillingly agreed to turn back. “We’re not made of sugar . . . all right, as you wish.”
Cameron slipped in a slick patch of mud, landing on his ass. He unstuck himself, taking most of the mud with him. His palms pulsed under dirtied bandages. Wonderful.
John seemed puzzled. “You’re supposed to use your hands for balance. Anything broken?”
Cameron might grit his teeth if they weren’t chattering so hard. “Just bruised.”
“Good, you can scrape more of that mud off.”
Not much more came off, and when they arrived at the parking lot, Cameron spotted Henry’s SUV.
They were still there?
He lurched to an aching stop and pivoted sharply toward John’s car. He wanted to dive into the passenger seat and hide.
“Hold up.” John stopped his path, looking from his precious orange baby to Cameron’s soiled pants like he was making a tough decision. “The thing is, honey, I don’t have any towels.”
Cameron blinked, raindrops on his glasses blurring his vision. “What are you saying?”
“I wouldn’t normally do this, but it’s such a new car.”
“What?”
“I’m sure your friends can take you home.”
Cameron shook his head violently. John couldn’t seriously be doing this.
“Once you’re showered, we’ll do dinner. My treat.” John slipped behind the wheel, and the car door shut like end punctuation.
“Are you kidding me?” His yell was lost over the rumble of the engine, shifting gravel, and heavying rain.
Henry opened his passenger door.
Cameron wanted to move, to hide, but he was alone. Two hours of barely traveled roads away from home.
Henry dashed toward him with an umbrella. Rain stopped blasting over his face as he held it over them.
The convertible winked out of sight around a bend.
“Lovely guy.”
“Don’t even.”
Henry urged him gently toward his vehicle. “Come.”
“I’m muddy.” I’m not the man you maybe hoped I was.
Henry slid open the back door and Georgie tossed a fleece from the front.
“Strip off whatever’s wet and cuddle up in the blankets,” Henry murmured. “Should warm up in no time.”
Henry already knew what was truly underneath; stripping in front of him didn’t feel like it mattered.
Cameron numbly peeled out of his wet clothes as Henry held the umbrella over the open door and crowded close, blocking the wind. Off came his jacket, the damp pullover under it, his jeans, and socks until he was left in a tight T-shirt and tighter briefs.
Pulling the blankets around him, Cameron found Henry quietly admiring him.
A prickle of heat crept up his throat. “I thought you were a gentleman. Shouldn’t you divert your gaze? Good manners and all that?”
“I never said I was a gentleman.”
Henry shut the umbrella and climbed into the SUV. He was a wall of heat as he clambered over Cameron, and that intoxicating aged-book scent mixed with ocean air filled his lungs. He wanted it to stay curled around him like a weighted blanket. He was sure if it did, he’d never have nightmares again.
“Right. You’re all about despicable deeds.”
Henry planted himself on the seat at the other window, took off his leather jacket, and pulled his hoodie over his head. “Desperately despicable deeds. Put this on.”
Softly wadded material hit his thighs, and Cameron thankfully pushed his limbs into the deliciously warm, soft hoodie. God, it felt big around him. Big and cuddly. He’d never go cold again. It was dark gray, plain except for a single stitched rose on the pouch pocket.
Henry rummaged through Cameron’s bag and pulled out his Happy Socks.
“Feet.”
Cameron swung his feet onto the middle seat.
Henry grasped the back of one ankle, settling it on his firm thigh. “All that talk of being gentleman-like. I’m a hypocrite, the way I talked to John.”
Slowly, Henry drew one sock over his toes, arch, heel. His ankle.
Cameron’s throat was so tight he choked on his next breath. “I suppose it’s easier to spot other people’s flaws.”
“Easier to acknowledge them, anyway.”
