Taken by Storm Page 13

  “Okay. No more baseball metaphors.”

  Cam laughed. “Gotcha.”

  He was being incredibly decent about the whole incident, but Zoey was still too mortified to make conversation.

  In the silence, she heard someone’s stomach making noises, and at first she assumed it was hers because she was so upset. Then she was afraid the sounds were coming from Cam because of, um, stuff with nowhere to go. But soon she heard a roiling groan that was too loud to ignore. She opened her eyes and sat up to find Cam darting glances toward her.

  Horrible, awful, disgusting sounds gurgled behind them.

  “Casper,” they said in unison.

  “He’s going to throw up!” Zoey pointed. “Pull over!”

  Cam slowed. “There’s not really a place...I can’t make out the edge of the road...”

  Casper made a series of hacking coughs.

  “Just pull over anywhere!” she shouted as Cam drove to the shoulder and stopped. The car slid a little and came to rest at an angle.

  Zoey threw open the door and plunged knee-deep into snow. Slipping and sliding, she tried to make her way to the back of the car. Cam beat her there. He already had the door open and was working at the latch on the crate.

  “Wait. I have to get his leash—”

  Casper pushed his way out and leaped from the car. Just his head poked above the snow and then only briefly as he bounded off, fortunately toward the field and not toward the highway.

  “Casper!” they both shouted. Zoey took off after him but promptly fell to her knees and inhaled snow. Cam gripped the car bumper and shouted for Casper.

  They heard hacking sounds. Zoey struggled to her feet and trudged toward the noises. Behind her Cam said, “I’ll take care of the crate.”

  Zoey stopped and turned around. “I cannot ask you to do that. Seriously.”

  Cam ignored her and dragged the crate out of the car.

  And there, by the side of a road in the wilds of Nebraska, standing knee-deep in snow as she watched the object of her disastrous, failed seduction clean out a dog crate with a fast-food paper bag, Zoey had a revelation: she could love this guy. True, spend-the-rest-of-your-life-with love. The for-better-or-worse kind of love. The in-sickness-and-in-health love. And he must feel the same way because nothing said love like cleaning dog vomit out of a crate when it wasn’t even your dog. No rain check was worth that.

  For the first time in her life, Zoey was in a real, grown-up relationship. That was the difference between Cam and her J boyfriends. Maturity. In a grown-up relationship, it was easier to deal with all the bad, unpleasant things that came your way because you were together. And all the good things would be even better.

  Tears came to her eyes, but she was going to pretend it was the wind.

  “Casper. To me,” she said. Didn’t shout. Didn’t plead. Spoke with a “firm expectation of being obeyed.” She heard a crunchy rustling and hoped it was the sound a large, hairy dog makes when plowing through snow. Moments later something brushed against her. That something better be Casper.

  She saw a black nose and a couple of blue elastic bands. “Poor guy.” She reached down to pat his head and he licked her frozen hand. She tried not to dwell on what had recently passed over that tongue as they made their way to the car.

  Cam was hoisting the crate back inside. “I did the best I could, but it’ll need more cleaning before you get on the plane.”

  Something else Zoey didn’t want to contemplate. “I’m not sure he should be flying.” She watched as the dog clambered up to the road’s shoulder. “Oh, ick, Casper.”

  Using one of his dirty coats and snow, she attempted to clean his front legs. The mess would have been a whole lot worse if his coat had been loose, but it was bad enough. A horrible thought occurred to her. “I put lemon balm on his feet.” She looked up at Cam. “My lemon balm poisoned him!”

  Cam shook his head. “No, this one is on me. He got that chicken nugget box.”

  “A chicken nugget isn’t going to cause—” She gestured. “Mt. Vesuvius. What if he’s sick? I mean sick sick? Should we find a vet somewhere?” Before she caught herself, she scanned the empty, snowy landscape as though a veterinarian would magically appear.

  Cam had walked off and reappeared with her coat. Draping it over her shoulders, he grabbed Casper’s collar so Zoey’s arms were free to shrug into the sleeves.

  “He could have snarfed down something else I didn’t notice,” Cam said. “On the other hand I cleaned a lot of chew toy out of the crate.”

  Their eyes met. “Kate did say they were emergency only. How many has he eaten?”

  “Three?”

  Zoey sighed. “Stupid dog.” She wadded up Casper’s coat, wishing she could ditch it, and got the bitter apple spray out of the suitcase.

  Casper whined.

  “Yeah, you know what this is, don’t you?” She eyed the crate. “Let’s not force him in there. At this point, it doesn’t much matter.”

  Cam stared into the formerly pristine interior of the rental. “Agreed.”

  “Up.” She gestured and Casper jumped into the car without struggling and curled onto his side. He didn’t even protest when Zoey sprayed his paws.

  Once inside the car, she got out her cell phone, relieved to find that she didn’t have reception. Now she could avoid reporting to Kate.

  “I’ve got a signal.” Cam offered her his phone.

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

  “Chicken.” He started the car.

  “Don’t say that word.”

  “Oh, come on. I think we’re unfairly maligning the food of one of the great institutions of our country.”

  He surprised a laugh out of her. “I can’t believe you’re making jokes when we’re all wet and dirty and it stinks in here.”

  “We’re also stuck. And that’s no joke.” Cam rocked the car back and forth, but the wheels couldn’t get any traction.

  “That explains the ‘soft shoulder’ signs.” As far as relationships went, she and Cam had experienced plenty of “for worse.” She was ready for some “for better.”

  “Here. You take over.” Cam unbuckled his seat belt. “I’m going to get out and push.”

  “No.” Zoey held up a hand to stop him. “My boots and jeans are already soaked. I’ll get out and push.”

  Cam looked doubtful, which made Zoey all the more determined. She slammed the door and made her way around to the rear of the SUV. Her toes were numb, which might be a good thing if, say, the car rolled onto them.

  Cam stuck his head out of the window. “Stand away. I’m going to rock the car. Wait to push until I give the signal.”

  “What’s the signal?” she yelled over the engine.

  “Push.”

  “Wait!” Zoey had noticed the slick, muddy ruts the tires had made. “Let me get some dried grass and gravel to put under the tires.”

  “Great idea.” He gave her a thumbs up.

  Zoey agreed it was a great idea, but getting her fingers to bend was hard. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this cold. Cam started to get out to help, but she waved him back inside. One of them had to be able to drive, and he was that one.

  “Ready,” she called, hoping the bits of road debris and frozen clods of Nebraska prairie would be enough to get them unstuck. If she’d been by herself, what would she have done? She didn’t even have a cell signal to call a tow truck. And if she did, who would she call? She’d be stranded here waiting until a good Samaritan came by and helped her. And, sadly, living in an urban area had made her wary of good Samaritans.

  Except Cam. Sure, she’d had a few nervous moments over the way he’d looked at her when they’d first met, but now she understood that intense gaze meant he was completely focused. A
nd now when he trained it on her, it was more exciting than unnerving.

  Cam rocked the car back and forth, back again and yelled, “Push!”

  Zoey caught the forward motion and pushed with everything she had, channeling all those westward pioneers who’d pushed their wagons out of muddy creek banks—until she lost her footing and fell flat. Scrambling to her knees, her life flashed before her until the car gave a hop and rolled out of the rut.

  Heart pounding, Zoey had another realization, right there on her knees in the slushy mud in the middle of America’s heartland: she would have made a lousy pioneer.

  “Zoey? You okay?” Cam called to her.

  Nodding, she got to her feet and stumbled to the car. Her fingers were too frozen to pull the handle, so Cam had to reach across the seat and open the door for her.

  Once inside, she leaned her head back. Her hair hung in wet strands and her feet squished inside her boots. “There is no way we’re getting on a plane today, is there?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” said the ever-steady Cam. “We were spending the night in Denver or Seattle anyway. So now it’s Denver.”

  Zoey inhaled and nearly gagged. “Newsflash. We’re not making it to Denver today.”

  * * *

  TWO MISERABLE HOURS LATER, they’d found a dog-friendly motel and Cam had rented connecting rooms—not because he didn’t intend to cash in his rain check, but because Casper required his own bathroom.

  After carrying in their luggage, Cam left Zoey with the unenviable chore of washing Casper while he found some place to get the car cleaned inside and out. It took longer than he’d anticipated because they were in a little town and a lot of outdoor car washes closed down for the winter in Nebraska.

  Eventually, he ended up at a car dealership that had a small branch of the same rental agency where he’d rented the SUV in Des Moines. They washed the car, out of pity more than anything, and let Cam use a hose on Casper’s crate.

  Now the car was clean and he was cold. Bone-deep cold. And his jeans were damp. They chafed. Cam wasn’t a fan of chafing.

  He was hungry, too. The rooms had a kitchenette with a microwave, so he bought some sandwiches and a six pack of locally brewed beer. Always beneficial to check out the competition. He passed by a Chinese restaurant and was suddenly tired of bread-based food, so he stopped and bought takeout. He had no idea if Zoey liked Chinese food, but he knew the important stuff about her. He knew she was someone who always had his back. He smiled to himself. She might crash into it and knock him down, but she’d be there, and she’d help him stand on his feet again, too.

  Zoey was rock-solid dependable—maybe not always effective, but she tried. Not everyone did. Or they gave up too fast.

  Cam had dated some gorgeous arm candy and couldn’t name one of those past girlfriends who would have insisted on pushing the car. Or would have dropped everything to help her sister. They would have whined more than Casper about the delays and the inconvenience they’d gone through. But not once had Zoey ever whined or ever considered giving up.

  He could still hear her insisting that he go on without her in Des Moines, and briefly flashed to the very blonde, very stacked, very demanding Trisha he’d dated very briefly, and only because Gus had pushed him into it. He didn’t have to try hard to imagine Trisha at the airport wailing, “Caaaam...you aren’t going to leeeeeave me, are you?”

  And then into the imaginary scene walked Zoey ordering Trisha to sit and stay.

  The image made him laugh. Zoey wouldn’t have put up with Trisha’s whining for an instant. And Cam hadn’t for much longer.

  In spite of her so-called mistakes, Zoey was the one he wanted on his team. And by his side...or beneath him. Or on top of him. That little episode in the car had surprised the hell out of him. Excited the hell out of him, too. And even though nothing—and no one—had come from it, his frustration had melted at the sight of her obvious embarrassment. Yeah, those pink cheeks had roused all sorts of tender, protective feelings for her.

  And he had a rain check to look forward to.

  Cam no longer noticed that he was chafed, and he was no longer cold. And who cared about Chinese food when he had that kind of a rain check? He imagined stretching out on a nice comfortable bed, naked, with Zoey bent over him. Also naked. His heart sped up and his blood pulsed hotly as his damp jeans grew tight. In a minute they’d be steaming. He could practically feel Zoey’s hair brushing over his thighs, his stomach...her hot mouth closing over his—

  A car horn sounded and Cam realized he’d been sitting at a green light. He accelerated through the intersection but had no idea where he was or where their motel was located because he’d been fantasizing about rain checks instead of paying attention to where he was driving. It was a good thing the motel’s address was on the plastic key tag so he could use the car’s GPS to find his way back.

  Cam carried the food and beer into his room and noticed that Zoey had opened the connecting door. He could hear running water from the bathroom and her murmuring to Casper.

  “Hi, honey, I’m home,” he sang and set the food next to the sink by the microwave.

  “Casper!”

  “Nope. It’s Cam.”

  A body—no doubt a wet dog—thumped against the bathroom door.

  “Casper! Get back in the tub!”

  Cam winced. “When you’re ready, come on through. I’ve got Chinese food.” Which Casper had no doubt smelled.

  “I love Chinese food!” he heard.

  Cam smiled to himself. They could play the fortune-cookie game. In bed.

  In the meantime, he intended to hit the shower.

  He was toweling off when he heard Zoey call, “Can you bring the hairdryer from your bathroom?”

  He slicked back his hair, pulled on a pair of jeans, even though she’d already seen the important stuff, and unplugged the hairdryer from the wall unit.

  Padding through to the other room, he knocked on the bathroom door. “Hairdryer delivery.”

  Casper barked.

  “Stay, Casper.” Zoey’s voice was right at the door. It opened about an inch. “Can you help me? With both of us drying, it’ll go a lot faster. This dog has seriously thick hair.”

  “Sure. Let me—” Put on a T-shirt was what he’d been going to say, but Casper nosed open the door and escaped, brushing past Cam on the way out.

  “Casper, no! Grab him—he’s wet!”

  Cam grabbed for the dog with the hand that wasn’t holding the hair dryer, but Casper slipped out of his grasp.

  “Darn it, Casper!” Zoey stumbled as she ran out of the bathroom. Casper shook violently and Zoey turned away, holding out her hands to shield herself.

  Her hands were no match for the spray, but then again she was already pretty wet.

  “Casper...” She wiped her hands on her top and brushed at her arms.

  Cam’s mouth went dry. If he weren’t so focused on Zoey, he would have appreciated the irony. She’d prepared for Casper’s bath by bunching her hair into a sloppy ponytail and stripping down to her underwear, which consisted of turquoise-blue panties and a tight white tank top heavily splotched with water. The splotches revealed that there was nothing else beneath the tank but Zoey.

  “Casper!”

  Snorting, the dog shook his head and rubbed his nose and face along the carpet.

  “Come here!” Zoey slapped her thigh. She had miles of legs that disappeared into a cute little tush.

  “Don’t make me drag you back in there.” When Casper ignored her, she stalked over to him and bent down, prepared to make good on her threat.

  Cam tried to swallow and couldn’t. Those turquoise bikini panties were completely transparent, and the front of the tank mostly so. It had ridden up to expose a crescent of bare skin at her lower back. As he watched, the crescent wid
ened and Cam’s fingertips tingled at the thought of helping it along.

  Zoey wrestled with Casper, who barked and treated the whole thing like a game. The dog got away from her and galloped through the connecting door, Zoey running after him. Cam heard them race around the room and then Casper was headed through the door again, zooming straight toward him. Casper stopped, barked and took off just as Zoey reappeared.

  “I could use a little help here.”

  Cam froze.

  She was breathing hard, and her top clung damply and transparently. He should point that out, but she was so sexy, she stole his breath, along with the ability to speak or move.

  She could make a living entering wet T-shirt contests. She could make a fortune entering wet T-shirt contests.

  Casper ran in and out of the room again before positioning himself exactly between the two rooms and wildly contorting as he rubbed his back on the carpet.

  “Casper!” she said in exasperation. “Help me get him into the bathroom, Cam?”

  Cam grinned. “Later.”

  “Why?”

  He stepped to the side so Zoey could see herself in the mirror.

  She squeaked and crossed her arms over her chest. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  Cam set the hairdryer on the lamp desk. “Because I figured you’d do that.” He walked toward her.

  She retreated. “Cam...there’s a wet dog running around.”

  “By now he’s only a damp dog.”

  “I don’t want him to be cold and uncomfortable.”

  “Are you cold and uncomfortable?”

  She rubbed her arms. “Well, yeah, kind of.”

  “I can fix that.” Cam cupped her face and kissed her, inching forward until her wet chest pressed against his. Her lips were cold and he kissed her until they warmed and parted. He slipped his tongue inside her mouth and stroked hers.

  She shuddered and pulled away. “We should really dry him off.” Her voice lacked conviction.

  Cam moved his hands to her upper arms and rubbed until the goose bumps disappeared. “He’ll dry on his own.”

  Zoey made a little noise and dropped her head back. Cam nuzzled her neck. “But his coat will be all crinkled.”