Wait for You (25 page)

I honestly shouldn’t be roaming around someone’s house. Seemed like that was breaking some guest rule. I started to turn to go back upstairs when Mrs. Hamilton stuck her head out of the kitchen.
 

Oh shit.

A warm smile appeared on her face. “I didn’t wake you, did I? I’m an early riser, even more so on Thanksgiving.” She waved a dishtowel. “Making stuffing.”

“You didn’t wake me.” I inched closer, sort of fascinated by the fact she was up this early making stuffing. “Do you need help?”

“I could always use a hand in the kitchen,” she replied, motioning me forward. “And I have fresh coffee.”

The allure of coffee was too much to resist. I followed her into the kitchen, my eyes widening at all the food spread across the kitchen island. A turkey sat on a platter, waiting to get stuff shoved up its cavity.
 

“Sugar and cream, right?” she asked.

I smiled a little. “You remembered.”

“I think the key to the start of any good relationship is to remember how the other person likes their coffee.”

“Cam doesn’t really like coffee.” The moment those words left my mouth, I flushed.

His mom pretended not to notice my red face. “No, he’s not big on coffee. Milk, on the other hand…”

“He drinks milk while eating Chinese.” I shuddered. “It’s so gross.”

She laughed as she handed me the coffee. “He get’s that from his father. Teresa is the same way. Speaking of which, you will be meeting her within the next couple of hours.”

Knots formed in my stomach. Meeting his sister made me anxious.
 

“Have you made stuffing before?” she asked, moving over to the island.

“No.” I joined her on the other side, eyeing the loaves of bread, onions, milk, and eggs.
 

“My daughter usually helps me in the morning,” she said, placing the dishtowel on the counter. “It’s not difficult at all, so you’re more than welcome to help or keep me company.”

“I can help. What can I do.”

Mrs. Hamilton’s smile was wide. “If you could start with the bread, that would be perfect. All you need to do is break them up in this bowl.” She pointed to a large blue one. “When you’ve finished the loaf, we’ll move on to the next step.”

“Okay.” I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and rolled up my sleeves, then washed my hands quickly.

“That’s a pretty bracelet,” she commented as she started chopping the onion into small chunks.
 

“Thank you.” I tore apart the bread, probably a little harder than necessary. “Cam told me that his sister was at a dance recital?”

“In Pittsburg,” she said, pride pouring into her voice. “It was an invitation only recital. Richard and I would’ve gone, but we wanted to be home for Cameron. Teresa understands though. We rarely miss any of her dances.”

I finished the loaf. “What’s next?”

“Onions, butter, milk, and seasoning. You get to mush it all with your hands.”
 

I waited for her to dump in the ingredients. As she did so, she told me how much she thought should go in and then I sunk my hands into the gooey mess. Grinning, I laughed. “Okay, this feels kind of weird.”

“It does. At least you’re not eating it.”

“Raw?”

“Yep, Cameron and Teresa both would try to eat it raw.”

I made a face as I smushed everything together so that the milk and butter would evenly distributed through the bread. After wiping my hands clean, I moved onto the second loaf of bread. “I used to dance,” I admitted.
 

“Cameron mentioned that.”

My hands stilled around the bread. He’d told his parents that? I wasn’t sure what to make of it.
 

“I would’ve known if he hadn’t said anything,” she commented as she dropped some of the onions in my bowl. “You still move like a dancer.” She smiled. “I danced and watching Teresa over the years, you come to be able to recognize that in others.”

“It’s nice to hear that. I mean, I don’t feel like I still do.”

“You do.”
 

I was back to the mushing part again and I decided that was my favorite. I was weird.
 

“You never made stuffing with your mom?” Cam’s mother asked.
 

It was an innocent question, but it caused a deep ache to slice across my chest. My mom and I hadn’t been the closest two people in the world before the incident, but afterward, our relationship was nonexistent. “I don’t think my mom knows how to cook,” I said finally.

“You don’t think?”

I shook my head. “My parents aren’t into cooking dinners.”

There was a pause. “Cameron said they travel a lot during the holidays?”

“Yeah, and they kind of like doing their own thing, you know, daughter free.” I forced out a laugh, shrugging it off. “I mean, I’m okay with that. I can’t ski to save my life and being stuck on a ship in the middle of an ocean isn’t something I’m into.”

Mrs. Hamilton was silent as we added the last of the ingredients and I dug my fingers into it, liking the way it slid through my fingers. “So what do you normally do when you’re home?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I wouldn’t be by myself the whole time. They have a maid that usually cooks dinner for me before she goes home. It’s really nice of her because she’s not required to work during the holidays.”

“What about Christmas?”

“The same,” I admitted, surprising myself. I glanced up and found her watching me. “It’s not really a big deal. My family isn’t very close and so it’s probably better this way.” After saying that, I figured it probably wasn’t the best thing to say. “Anyway, I’m done. What’s the next step?”

“It goes in the turkey.” She smiled, but it seemed a little off. “Want to do the honors?”

“Sure.” I waited for her to turn the bird around and then I completed the somewhat gross task of getting all in the turkey’s personal space.
 

When I was done, I headed over to the double sink while she wrapped the turkey in foil and placed it in a roaster.
 

“Thank you for helping me, Avery.”

“No problem,” I said. “I’m happy to have helped.” And I really was. “It was fun.”

Mrs. Hamilton smiled at me, though her eyes were sad. “Well, honey, you’re always welcomed here for the holidays. There’s never enough hands when it comes to making food.”

I murmured thank you and finished washing my hands. As I turned, I caught sight of Cam standing just outside the kitchen. I had no idea how long he’d been standing there or how much of the conversation he overheard, but the soft look on his sleepy face told me he’d heard enough.

Chapter 19

Anyone with two eyes could tell that Teresa and Cam were close and they really did care about each other. The two of them were insane together, constantly picking on one another and causing general trouble wherever they went.
 

Teresa was a female version of Cam—tall, strikingly beautiful with raven-colored hair and bright blue eyes. She had the body of well-disciplined dancer and was practically bubbling over with energy.
 

Much to my relief, Teresa was a sweetheart. I’d been afraid that she wouldn’t like me for some reason or another, but she hugged me.
 

The Hamilton family were a bunch of hugging folks.
 

I hung out with them in the basement until Teresa and I went upstairs to help her mom get the sides ready for dinner, which seemed like the perfect moment to get away, because Cam and his father started talking about hunting and my skin was beginning to crawl.
 

Seeing mother and daughter working together and laughing had a strange effect on me. They were almost like strange creatures to me; the kind of family you saw on evening sitcoms. I was envious of that relationship, but in the same respect I sort of accepted that this would never be my mom and I.
 

While we got the dinner ready, Teresa was glued to her cell phone, constantly texting someone, which carried over to the dinner table.
 

“Who do you keep texting?” Cam demanded as he slopped a second heaping of yams on his plate.

Teresa smirked. “That’s none of your business.”

“I’m your brother, it’s my business.”

Uh-oh. I glanced at them and saw Cam’s eyes narrowed on his younger sister as she texted someone.
 

“Mom, you should tell
your
daughter it’s rude to text at the table.”

Mrs. Hamilton arched a brow. “It’s not hurting anyone.”

Cam nudged me with his knee under the table, something he’d been doing every five minutes since we sat down. “It’s hurting my soul.”

I rolled my eyes as I knocked him back.

“That’s sad,” his sister commented, dropping her cell in her lap. “So, Avery, how did you end up in West Virginia.”

“I wanted to go some place different,” I said, digging into the mashed potatoes. “My family is originally from Ohio, so West Virginia seemed like a good place to go.”

“I have to be honest, I would’ve picked New York or Florida or Virginia or Maryland or—” Her phone chirped, drawing her attention like someone with ADD and a shiny object. She grabbed her cell and an immediate smile spread across her lips.

Cam knocked my knee as his eyes narrowed even further. He reached for more turkey, but suddenly veered off, snatching the cell from his sister’s fingers.

“Hey!” she shouted. “Give it back!”

Cam stretched into me, avoiding his sister’s flailing arms. He scowled. “Who’s Murphy?”

Mr. Hamilton shook his head.

“It’s none of your business! God,” Teresa snapped. “Give me back my phone.”

“I’ll give it back when you tell me who Murphy is? A boyfriend?”
 

Her cheeks flushed, and I figured Cam was a bit of the overprotective type. He held the phone away from her until she sat back, crossing her arms. “Mom.”

“Cam, give her back the phone.” When Cam still held it, his mother smiled. “We’ve met Murphy. He’s a really good boy.”

Cam didn’t look convinced, and I suddenly wondered if there was more to this. I looked over at Teresa and her eyes were starting to shine. I turned my attention back to my plate quickly.

“He’s really nice and I like him,” she said in a quiet voice.
 

Cam snorted. “That’s not a ringing—”

“He’s not Jeremy,” Mr. Hamilton said, suddenly very serious and somber. “Give her back the phone.”

He looked like he was going to hold onto that phone for the rest of his life and where there hadn’t been any tension in the house since I arrived, it was now very much in this room. I reached under the table and grabbed his upper thigh, startling him enough that he loosened his grip on her phone. I swiped it away from him.

“Hey!” His eyes narrowed. “That was so not fair.”

I grinned as I stretched behind him, handing the phone to his sister. “Sorry.”

“Thank you,” Teresa said, and I was sure I made a friend for life with that move.

Cam’s look said there’d be payback later before he turned to his sister. “I want to meet this Murphy.”

Teresa let out a loud sigh. “Okay. Let me know when.”

Shock flickered through me. I would not have expected her to relent that easily to his demand. My gaze shifted between them two and while Cam seemed to relax, there was a tension in his jaw that hadn’t been there before. Conversation picked back up, but there seemed to be something simmering behind it.

Or it could just be my paranoia.
 

After the feast, Cam and I were alone in the dining room, stacking the dishes. “Is everything okay with your sister?” I asked.

Cam laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Everything is kosher. Let’s play,” he said, catching my hands and pulling me toward the stairs leading to the basement. “I bet you can beat me at pool.”

“I don’t know about that.” But I let him led me away.
 

“Oh, I suck ass at pool.”

I laughed. “What about the dishes and—”

Cam stopped without any warning, causing me to crash into his chest. His hands fell to my hips as he lowered his forehead to mine. “Forget the dishes. Come play with me, sweetheart.”

Crap. He had me a sweetheart.

#

I’d just changed into my pajamas and slid my legs under the covers when there was a soft knock on the bedroom door. I rose onto my elbows. My heart jumped as Cam opened the door halfway.

“Hey,” he said, a slight grin on his face.

“Hi.” The one word came out a half whisper, half croak.
 

That lopsided grin spread an inch. “I wanted to say goodnight.”

A flutter took up residency deep inside my chest and my lower stomach. My hand clenched the edge of the down comforter. “You already told me goodnight.”

“I did.” He stepped into the room and my gaze slipped down the length of him. Cam made a gray shirt and flannel pajama bottoms look good. “But I didn’t. Not in the way I want to say goodnight.”