Reclaim - Aly Martinez Page 0,67

She walked to the back door and slid the curtain open. “Jesus, Cam.”

We were on the sixth Cam of the day, but it could have been number six hundred and I never would have been sick of hearing it.

Leaning against the counter, I explained, “I think my mom always hoped Dad would make this place their home away from home for weekend getaways. That’s probably why she had her interior decorator come in and design it to her liking. In reality, Dad just bought the place for somewhere to get away from her.”

She joined me in the kitchen and straddled one of the stools at the bar across from me. “I know you said you were okay…but do you maybe…want to talk about your dad dying?”

“I’d rather talk about you.” I turned and opened the fridge, hooking my fingers around two longneck bottles before letting it swing shut behind me. “Beer?”

She nodded, and I popped the top off before sliding one her way. “Cheers.”

We clinked bottles and then both took a sip, her pull noticeably longer than mine. A little liquid courage never hurt anyone.

“Okay, so, what do you want to know?”

I propped myself up on my elbows on the island. “Everything.”

She blew out a long breath. “Hmm, let’s go for the abridged version. Therapy. Therapy. Therapy. Anti-depressants. Anti-anxiety medication. Therapy. Therapy. Therapy. Joe got married. Thea started a travel agency. Thea and I moved to a little house about thirty minutes away from the old neighborhood. Oh, and as of last week, your uncle, good old former Mayor Caskey, managed to call in some favors and get Ramsey’s request for parole denied. Ya know, same old, same old.”

“Fuck,” I clipped.

“Yeah, so, good times.” She took another drink of beer. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather talk about your dad?”

I reached across the bar and caught her hand, and like it was the most natural thing in the world, she laced her fingers with mine. “Nora, I am so sorry. I—”

“Don’t finish that. Not one more word.”

I clamped my mouth shut and stared at her.

Never letting me go, she walked around the counter and moved in close. “This is going to come out wrong, but bear with me. Okay?” When I nodded, she announced, “I had fun at your dad’s funeral. Let’s not ruin it.”

“Wow, okay. Not what I was expecting you to say.”

She giggled, soft and sweet. “I just mean, when you snuck up behind me and told me I looked ridiculous. And then we made jokes and picked on each other outside. Even running from your mom. I swear, Cam, it’s the most free I’ve felt in years. We don’t get to spend a lot of time together and the last few times have been…well, a nightmare. So, what if we just pack away the heavy shit for tonight and have fun for a change? It’ll be like old times again.” She smiled up at me with those brown eyes that had owned so much of my childhood, and just like the good old days, I was wrapped around her little finger.

I could do that. Jesus Christ, I could do that.

I could give her the easy and carefree we both so desperately deserved and so rarely got. My week had been a never-ending drone of condolences and funeral preparations. I was more than happy to sit around and share a few beers with a bright, funny, gorgeous woman I hadn’t seen in too damn long.

Fun with Nora was not a hardship.

So, when she pushed up onto her toes, adorably crinkled her nose, and asked, “What do you say?” I had but one answer.

“I’ll need to get you a pair of my boxers and a T-shirt.”

Her eyebrows sank together. “Why?”

I moved her hand to rest on my chest, mostly because I liked the way it had felt when she’d done it at the church and because I needed mine free to pluck her beer from her grip and set it on the counter. “Because your dress is about to get seriously wet.”

All in one swift movement, I bent over, put my shoulder to her stomach, and lifted her off the floor.

“What are you doing?” she howled. “Mercy!”

“You wanted the good old days.” I carried her out the back door and peeled back the top on the hot tub. “I don’t have a creek, so this will have to do.”

She screamed as I dumped her into the water, heels and all.

I almost busted my ass when she shot up out