Page 8 of Finally Home

West laughed and loved the color that flooded her cheeks. “I’m fine. Why, is something the matter?” He dropped his appendage and shut off the water.

Cami handed him a towel, her hand still covering her eyes. “No, everything’s fine. I just... I called for you, and you didn’t answer. I got worried something happened to you.”

“You worried about me?” He chuckled as he wrapped the towel around himself and stepped from the shower. She was cute when she was flustered. “It’s safe to look now.” Well, mostly safe. He still had a pillar of granite between his legs, and the towel did little to hide it.

“Of course I worried.” Eyes still closed, Cami crossed her arms over her chest, pushing up her breasts. Her tone said she was angry, but he couldn’t care less when she had those soft pillows on display. Especially given what he had been about to do. “You were just in a wreck. And I’d rather not look at you right now.”

“Why? It’s not like you haven’t seen me in my birthday suit before.”

“You aren’t the same as you were back then.”

Her words sent a shock through him. She had no idea how right she was.

“Well, there are the clothes. I’m going to make us some soup.” She exited the bathroom quietly, leaving the door slightly ajar. A silent reminder she cared. “Call if you need me.”

He slumped his chin to his chest. West did need her. He always needed her. He just couldn’t have her.

CHAPTERFOUR

CAMI

Cami stood against the wall down the hall from the bathroom door, trying to catch her breath and tame the drunk bees in her stomach. Sure, she’d seen West naked before, but that was fifteen years ago. His frame hadn’t been quite so filled out, and his skin was definitely not that tan. More importantly, she’d never seen that fine specimen of a man, dripping wet, holding his cock in his hand. There were zero doubts about what he was doing, and the thought alone made her panties wet.

She’d been right to get out of there. Even though he had covered the goods, if she’d turned around and seen him bare chested, she would have been liable to give in to her temptation and trace her fingers over the ripples of his washboard abs.

Not exactly what she should be doing to a married man, but she would savor the image of him in her spank bank for the rest of her life.

After starting a fire, Cami headed to the kitchen to warm up some of the minestrone she had made the night before. It would be light on West’s stomach but still hearty enough to fill him up.

A sigh escaped her. West freaking James was in her home. If someone had told her that morning her day would end with him being her new roommate, courtesy of a snowslide, she wouldn’t have believed them.

Still, there he was.

Cami stirred the soup slowly, considering her mother’s words on the phone.

“Take care of that boy. He’s been through more than you could possibly imagine.”

She mentally kicked herself for insisting her family not keep her informed on West’s life throughout the years. It’d been too painful. Especially after she’d seen him and the skanky brunette strolling through Aspen a month after they were married. That day had been the final straw.

If she hadn’t insisted, though, she would at least know what had happened to him. What trauma had caused his flashback? And how could she help him? Not that it was her job to do so.

“It smells good in here.”

She looked over her shoulder to see West plop down on the stool at the kitchen island. He reached up and tousled his wet hair, the movement pulling the already-too-small shirt tight against his chest. Cami groaned internally. There’d be a year added to her sentence in hell for every dirty thought running through her head. Currently she was looking at ten years.

“I hope minestrone is okay.” She went back to stirring, taking her eyes off him to avoid adding to her damnation.

“That sounds fantastic. Thank you.” He was silent a moment before he spoke up again. “Hey, I’m sorry if I embarrassed you in there.”

“It’s fine, really.” Embarrassment was the farthest thing from what she felt. More like hot and bothered. She ladled soup into the bowls and placed his in front of him, purposely avoiding his watchful eyes. “Careful, it’s hot.”

“Thanks.”

An awkward silence hung between them as they stared at their soup like it was the most interesting thing in the room. It felt as though they were on a first date and had absolutely nothing in common.

Only they did. They’d already been on a first date in a different lifetime. Two nervous teenagers at the rodeo, unsure what the night would bring. Stealing glances. Holding hands. There in her kitchen, they couldn’t cling to the innocence they once had. Instead, they were both familiar and strangers at the same time.

“You home for the holidays?” she asked when she couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

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