Almost Just Friends (Wildstone #4)(7)

It was one thing for her to step over a narrow stream, but another entirely to get past the rushing river it’d become, and she stopped, frozen to the spot. Take a deep breath. Be logical. It’s not as deep as it looks, it’s just wide.

And moving hella fast . . .

Sucking in a breath, she backed up a few feet and then took a running leap. The bad news—she landed a few feet short, leaving her wet and muddy up to her knees. The good news—she didn’t drown.

But she wished she’d had another drink with Hot Guy.

A few minutes later she stood on the dark porch of Emmitt’s house, drenched to the core. She knocked as loud as she could to be heard over the wild wind. “Emmitt,” she called out. “It’s Piper. You okay?”

The door opened, and at first all she could see was a tall, lanky shadow of a man who was wielding a flashlight, which messed with her ability to see clearly. “Emmitt?”

“Not quite.”

Wait. She knew that voice, and she blinked in surprise because it was . . . Hot Guy? Had she manifested him here? Was she in an episode of The Twilight Zone? “What are you doing here?”

He was already pulling her in from the rain. “I was just about to ask you that same question.”

“I live next door.” She gestured vaguely behind her as he closed the door, shutting out the noisy storm. “I’m here to see Emmitt,” she said. “He’s my patient.”

“Patient? I thought you were an EMT, not a doctor.”

“I am, but he—” She shook her head, irritated, mostly at herself for being thrown off guard, because she prided herself on never being thrown off guard, by anyone. “Why am I explaining myself to you?”

“Don’t worry,” came Emmitt’s voice from the depths of the dark living room. “He has that effect on everyone.”

“What, charming people?” Hot Guy asked mildly.

Emmitt laughed. “More like irritating the shit out of them.” He turned on a small lantern, smiling at Piper from the couch. “The apple never falls far from the tree, you know.”

Piper stared at Hot Guy before turning back to Emmitt. “He’s your son?”

“In the flesh.”

She could see it now. Same dark hair and hazel eyes, and a somewhat imposing height and strength to match. But more than that, the sharp awareness they both had, the way they held themselves so easily, so casually, and yet seemingly utterly aware of everything around them.

She knew Emmitt had two sons, but she’d only known one of them. Rowan, who’d died three months ago in a tragic car accident. All she knew about his other son was that he lived on the East Coast. In fact, now that she thought about it, she didn’t even know his name. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“My fault,” Emmitt said. “The divorce was eons ago. It was . . . tough, and there were problems. I raised Rowan. Camden stayed with his mom, to . . . help her.”

She glanced at Hot Guy, who apparently was named Camden, but he’d lowered the flashlight at his side so she could no longer see his face. Beyond being startled, she was also realizing that Rowan had been Camden’s brother. And much as she liked to fantasize about murdering her own brother in his sleep half the time, it was just that. A fantasy. She’d . . . well, she’d die if anything happened to him.

And suddenly Camden’s grim mood made sense.

“Do you two know each other?” Emmitt asked.

“No,” Piper said, at the same time Camden said, “Yes.”

She stared at him.

He stared right back.

“Well, that clears that up,” Emmitt said. “Cam?”

“We were both at the bar tonight.”

“Yep,” Piper added. “End of story. Now, tell me how you’re feeling, Emmitt.”

He flashed his son a grin, as if he found it hugely funny and satisfying that Piper wasn’t interested in him.

As for how Cam felt about this, or anything, he wasn’t revealing. “Why does she want to know how you’re feeling?” he asked. “Have you been sick?”

“Nope. I’ve been healthy as a horse.”

Piper shook her head. “Maybe a horse with—” She broke off, horrified that she’d very nearly outed Emmitt’s medical condition, which was never okay, even when one was totally off-kilter.

Cam stared at her and then turned to his dad, who grimaced.

Piper sighed. I’m sorry, she mouthed to Emmitt.

“Don’t worry about it.” Emmitt looked at Cam. “I’ve got diabetes.”

Cam’s expression was disbelief. “Since when?”

“The doc tested me about five months ago. I was going to tell you.”

Cam gave him a long look.

“Okay,” Emmitt said. “So I wasn’t going to tell you.”

“Seriously?”

Emmitt huffed out a sigh. “Look, I’d have gotten to it eventually. But you’ve got to understand, my ability to remember to tell you things is far outweighed by my ability to remember every song lyric from the eighties.”

“I’m so sorry,” Piper said into the tense room. “I never should’ve—”

“It’s okay, darlin’,” Emmitt said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”