And given the way CJ sucked in a breath, he felt it too. Slowly he turned to face Gavin.
“I was young and stupid,” Gavin said, looking him right in the eyes.
“And now you’re . . . not young and stupid?”
Taking heart that CJ hadn’t shoved him away, he shook his head. “Well, I’m working on it.”
They stared at each other, the air crackling between them. Yeah, the spark was still there. And by spark, Gavin meant out-of-control, raging wildfire.
But CJ shook his head. “Not going to fall for that again, Gavin. Or you.”
Gavin tried not to react, because he knew that was hurt talking. And yeah, he had a lot to make up for. He’d known what CJ’s family had done to him, how they’d turned their backs on a sixteen-year-old kid, leaving him to fend for himself in the world. And then, several years later, Gavin had done the same damn thing. He didn’t deserve forgiveness, but he wanted it anyway. “You don’t feel anything?”
“Didn’t say that.”
Gavin looked at him, really looked. CJ had changed, going from lanky kid to one hundred percent man, and Gavin was shallow enough to admit that the new muscles and rugged, tough look was hot as hell. But besides the superficial shit, there was more. CJ’s eyes weren’t as cold and unfeeling as they’d been at first. The cop had given way, making room for his old best friend and first lover.
And like Gavin, CJ was most definitely not having coplike thoughts, because his eyes darkened the way they always had when he’d been aroused, and relief and hope filled Gavin. “You know if thought bubbles appeared over your head, you’d be screwed, right?”
CJ snorted. “Yeah. But luckily I no longer act on my impulses. You should try that.” And then he shoved Gavin away and walked out the door.
Chapter 12
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
The next afternoon, Cam stood in the alcohol aisle at the grocery store, picking out his poison. He’d driven his dad here, because, for one thing, the man drove like a menace.
“You going to follow me through the whole store?” his dad asked.
Which brought Cam to the second reason he was here. If left to his own devices, Emmitt would stock the kitchen with junk food, which was apparently killing him. “Unless you think you can behave.”
“I’ve told you, son, there’s no fun in behaving.”
Cam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dad.”
“Fine. For you, I’ll try.”
“Not for me. For—”
“My grandkid. I know.” His dad nodded. “Don’t worry, I plan to be around long enough to drive him crazy in the way I wish I could’ve driven you crazy.”
“Don’t underestimate yourself,” Cam said dryly. “And maybe the baby’s a girl. You ever think of that?”
His dad looked horrified. “What will we do with a girl?”
Cam laughed and shook his head. “I haven’t the foggiest. Just go get what you need from Piper’s list.”
“You ever going to tell me what’s going on with you two?”
“How do you know something’s going on?”
“I got eyes in my head, don’t I?”
Cam gave him a look, and his dad laughed and ambled off with the cart. He knew his dad thought Cam was being a hard-ass, and he was. He didn’t care. He was done letting down the people who mattered to him. First his mom, whom he hadn’t been able to save. Then Rowan.
But not his dad too, dammit. Or Winnie and the baby. Or their future livelihood—which was the marina.
And that brought him to the third thing. He’d put in a request at the DEA for a West Coast transfer. They had an office in San Luis Obispo, only thirty minutes from here. He’d still have to travel back East once a month for a weekend of Coast Guard training, and then there’d be the occasional activation and deployment, but the idea of being based near his dad was shockingly appealing.
For many reasons.
But there was no guarantee he’d get the transfer anyway, so he had no plans to tell anyone about it unless it came through, but he was surprised by how much he wanted it to.
And if he was being honest, it wasn’t just about the baby, or his dad, though both those things were huge factors. It was also about Piper.
He hadn’t seen her coming. At all.
And then, as if he’d conjured her up by wishes alone, she came around the corner, head down, eyes on something in her hands. A list, no doubt.
He eyed her cart—a box of tampons, ice cream, and wine—and bit back a smile. “Rough day?”
She lifted her chin. “What makes you think that?”
He took in her flashing eyes that were lined with exhaustion, and decided not to point out that it was all over her face. And in her cart. “Just asking.”
She sighed. “I’m making dinner tonight,” she said, as if she were faced with walking to her own guillotine.
“Interesting menu,” he said, nodding at the contents of her cart.
She stepped in front of it, blocking his view. “You making fun of me?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
She sighed and sagged a little. “It’s family dinner night. Used to be tradition for the three of us. But now . . .” She shook her head. “I don’t know what to make. I’m completely out of the habit of cooking.”
“What did you used to cook?”
She gave him a small smile. “Mac and cheese and hot dogs.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“You think?” she asked, looking so adorably hopeful, he nodded. “Okay, then,” she said. “Thanks.” She started to move off, but he put a hand on her cart.
“You probably don’t know this,” he said, “but it’s customary when someone gives you a suggestion for what to cook for a dinner party that you invite them to attend.”
She blinked. “You want to come to the Manning shit show? Like, on purpose?”
She was a confident, strong-willed, strong-minded woman in every part of her life. Except, apparently, in recognizing when a man wanted her. Really wanted her. “I like your family,” he said. “You’re all . . .”
“Cray-cray?”
“Real.”
She looked at him for a long moment. “Dinner’s at six.”
He smiled. “See you then.”
Twenty minutes later, he’d driven his dad home and ended up in the marina office, where he’d been trying to make sense of the mess.
Apparently Rowan had done everything here, which made Cam feel even worse, because he’d accused his brother of being irresponsible and immature. Of giving up on college without even giving it a try, to hang out on the lake and do nothing. Of not giving a shit about his future.
Turned out, Cam had been dead wrong, about a lot of things. He hadn’t realized how hard his brother had been working, or how without him, the marina would have fallen into disrepair and disorganization.
His dad was lost without someone to run the place, and Cam intended to fill that gap until he had to go, hopefully hiring someone to help before he left.
But the real question was, how did one apologize to a dead man? Because Rowan hadn’t been slacking. Chances were, he’d felt he couldn’t go off to college. He’d had to stay here and help out their dad, holding the marina together so the guy would have an income.