Stand and Defend (Lakes Hockey Series Book 4)

“Ican’t believe you talked me into this. What if your parents think we’re in a relationship?”

He continues singing along with the radio.

“Cam.”

“Huh? Yeah, they know you’re staying with me.”

“That’s not what I asked.” He’s too distracted with the damn song. Whatever. I shake my head and lean back in the passenger seat, staring out the window and watching the mostly bare trees go by. “Why did you invite me?”

“I invited you . . .” His gaze captures mine for a moment, and I’m hanging on his words. Tell me we’re more. His stare dissipates, and the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles. “. . . Because I want to watch you eat a whole ass turkey leg.”

I lean back in my seat, staring out the window. The mood in the car turns stale. I want him to be serious with me for one second. “Well, prepare to be disappointed.”

“If you’re not hungry for turkey, I’ve got another suggestion . . .”

“I’m scared to ask.” My voice is flat.

He places his hand on my thigh, and I cross my arms. “If you gobble me tonight, I promise you’ll wobble tomorrow.”

This is all you’ll ever be to him. Either shut down your feelings or walk away before you get hurt. I choose the former and relinquish hope, so we can fall into our usual banter.

“You’re the worst.”

“I have to tell you something.” He reluctantly drags his hand away and places it on the steering wheel. A shred of anticipation rises within me. “Jordan . . . I’m fowl-ing for you.”

Even though it’s not intentional, the joke cuts deep. I sweep aside my foolish wishes.

I rattle my locked door handle. “Would you mind pulling over and letting me out of this turkey pun nightmare?”

“They say tying the legs together keeps everything moist.”

I groan. “Is there a safeword for this conversation?”

His palm lands on my thigh again, and this time he squeezes and gropes until I’m fidgeting in my seat, pressing my legs together.

I turn away and brush him off. “I’m going to close my eyes for a bit.”

Being friends is better than being nothing because Cam is the truest friend I’ve ever had. We have fun together, share the same humor, even enjoy the same food. My attraction to him is a me problem, one I can fix.

I mentally tick off reasons we wouldn’t be good together . . . It would jeopardize our friendship. He travels a lot. He can be possessive and bossy. He’s probably a better friend than a boyfriend. He snores sometimes. He says things he doesn’t mean—which brings me to the number one reason: he doesn’t like me that way.

We’re staying at his parents for the weekend, which seems silly since they live less than an hour away. And especially because he’ll be gone all day tomorrow for a home game. Apparently, he always spends Thanksgiving weekend with them, game or not. Which means so do I.

Monday he’ll fly out and be gone for back-to-back games in Canada. He’s arranged for me to stay with Micky. I’m tiring of being babysat every time he’s out of town. After he gets back, there’s supposed to be somebody new starting at night to watch the house. I don’t see how this living arrangement even makes sense anymore.

Without a job or something to do during the day, I’m getting bored. I thought I’d be fine with my books, but even that’s getting old. I’d like to find something I’m passionate about. I enjoyed being a contract manager, but it wasn’t a fulfilling career, by any means. I want to make a difference in someone’s life. Like how Camden has Safehouse. Maybe I should start a charity or philanthropic organization.

“We’ll be there in a couple minutes,” he says, snapping me out of my daydreaming.

I sit up in my seat, adjusting the cuffs on my sweater and smoothing my hair.

“You look fine. Stop messing with your outfit. My parents don’t care about that stuff, I promise.”

“I’m not messing with my outfit.”

“Okay.”

We pull up to a house on the steep river bluff, it’s close in size to the one I grew up in, but that’s the only similarity. Where my parents’ house is more traditional with classic colonial columns and symmetrical windows. His parents’ is welcoming with warm cedar shakes and round dormer windows. It’s massive but nestled in pine trees gives it a cottage appeal.

“Did you grow up here?” I imagine a young Camden.

“Yeah,” he says, as we open our car doors and get out. “We’re staying in the boathouse out back.”

I cock an eyebrow. The house isn’t so much on a river bluff as it is a cliff. “Please tell me there’s a tram elevator.”

“There is, you princess. Don’t worry.”

I roll my eyes but am deeply thankful I don’t need to descend down a million stairs with a suitcase. I open the rear passenger door, and Chicken Salad jumps out.

“I’ll introduce you to everybody and bring our bags down after.”

I nod and follow him to the front door, mentally repeating the names of his family members in my head. Mom, Linda. Stepdad, Bruce. Sisters, Alexis and Hailey. Stepbrother, Logan.

We enter and are met with the delicious scents of roasted turkey and pumpkin pie. His mom strides toward us and wraps her arms around me and introduces herself.

“I’m so happy you’re joining us, Jordan! I’m Linda.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate you opening up your home to me.”

“And who’s this pretty girl?” she asks, scratching my dog behind the ears.

“Pretty girl? Sounds like Cam’s here!” a woman shouts from the kitchen—I’m guessing one of his sisters.

“This is Chicken Salad. Thanks for letting her come along too.”

“Of course!”

While she hugs Cam, I slip out of my boots and take in the space. The river side of the house has an incredible view. Cold, black waters flow below on a gentle current, and the bluff on the opposite side features beautiful rocky ledges. A few patches of yellow and orange peek out of the pine trees covering the side, showing off the leaves that haven’t yet fallen. I bet the sunsets here are extraordinary.

We follow Linda into the kitchen and are introduced to the rest of his family. His stepdad, Bruce, pauses from peeling potatoes to shake my hand. His sisters, Hailey and Alexis, are huggers like their mother. Both are very sweet, though I’m certain I heard Alexis call Cam an assface when she hugged him.

All of my Thanksgivings have been prepared by chefs or caterers. It’s fun to see his whole family involved in making their own feast. His older stepbrother, Logan, is microplaning orange zest into what appears to be muddled cranberries, he looks up to give me a curt nod before returning to his task. The sleeves of his beige sweater are pushed up to his elbows. One forearm features a brightly colored tattoo sleeve, the other is blacked out.

If it weren’t for the tattoos, I would get a different impression of him based on the sweater, ruffled hair, and black-rimmed glasses. He’s attractive in a dark, brooding sort of way. He looks up and swallows just as another woman enters the kitchen smiling. She’s my age with gorgeous, silky black hair and the best wingtip eyeliner I’ve ever seen.

“Hey, Kelly,” Cam says, giving her a hug. “I didn’t know you were joining us. Sorry to hear about your dad.”

“Yeah, I have a feeling Logan has adopted me for all future holidays.”

Cam nods and introduces me. “Kelly, this is Jordan. Jordan, Kelly. She works with Logan at his tattoo shop.”

“Oh, are you a tattoo artist?” I ask.

“I’m a piercer for now but am in my tattoo apprenticeship.”

“That’s awesome, you must be quite an artist.”

“I’m not terrible.”

“She’s exceptional,” Logan interrupts.

I’m guessing Kelly was the one to do Cam’s piercings, based on how familiar he seemed with her. I make a note to thank her later for doing such great work.

Hailey cuts in and hands me a glass of wine. “I hope you drink. I’m sure you could use one after being trapped in a car with Cam. He didn’t sing, did he?”

I smile and take the glass. My lower back hurts, probably from sitting in the car funny or something. I’m hoping it will numb the dull ache. “Only the entire time.”

“Oh God, you poor thing,” Alexis says. “Wine may not be enough, Hails. We should break out the good stuff.”

“On it!” she replies, ignoring him and grabbing a bottle of Tito’s. Cam laughs. “Fuck both of you.”

His mom puts a hand on her hip. “Cam, language. This isn’t the locker room.”

“Yeah, Cam. It’s Thanksgiving. Don’t be so crude.” Alexis snickers.

He narrows his eyes at his sisters and scratches his temple with his middle finger. Stepping behind me, his hand brushes my lower back as he leans down to my ear. “I’m going to bring our bags to the boathouse”—he raises his voice—“have fun with Frick and Frack over here.”

“Good one,” Hailey says dryly, adding some pumpkin puree to the cocktail shaker.

“God, can’t you guys get along for two seconds?” Linda asks.

All three crane their necks to face her, confused. “We do get along!”

She shakes her head and says she’s going to bring up a couple bottles of wine from the basement. “Bruce, will you help me?” He smiles and stares at her ass like he wants to do a lot more in the wine cellar than choose a chardonnay.

I was worried this visit would be stuffy and formal, but it’s quite the opposite. Cam and his sisters’ love language is giving each other shit, but there’s affection under the playful digs.

Hailey hands me a creamy bronze cocktail with crushed graham cracker on the rim. I take a sip and smile. She makes a fuckin’ mean pumpkin-tini.

Kelly is enthralled with Chicken Salad and offers to take her for a walk. She convinces Logan to go with her. Once they leave, I’m left defenseless with his sisters in the kitchen.

“So, what’s the deal with you and our brother?” Alexis asks, her eyebrows bouncing.

I furrow my brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean he’s never brought a woman home. Ever. For anything. Are you together?”

My forced laugh seems to disappoint her. “No, we’re not dating. I recently got out of a bad relationship. He’s giving me a place to stay until I get back on my feet.” It’s the truth.

“Wait, are you⁠—”

“Yeah. I was engaged to Bryan. It was kind of an ugly split.”

They nod, with understanding in their eyes. I wonder how much Cam has told them.

“Bryan always gave me the creeps,” Hailey says.

“I wish he’d had that effect on me . . . Doesn’t matter anymore, it’s over now.” Though Bryan doesn’t seem to think so. Either way, I’m desperate to change the subject. “Camden has been a lifesaver. He’s a smartass, but deep down . . .”

“We give Cam a hard time, but he’s a good guy. He watches out for his people.”

I take a sip of the martini and nod with a tight smile. “Okay, give me something to do. I feel weird standing here and not helping.”

They hand me green beans to wash and snip, and I get to work. It goes by quickly with easy conversation. I like his family.