But instead of the exhilarated, grinning goddess in the sky that she’d been yesterday, what he had now was an embarrassed, shaking, mortal human woman.
He also hadn’t considered the consequences for him. He’d been thinking of the whole haunted house thing in the context of his old job in Thunder Bay. He hadn’t been thinking about what it would feel like when someone hiding in the dark tried to snatch Jane away from him.
His heart still beating out of control, he set her on her feet once they were out, and she blinked against the light. She had tear tracks on her cheeks—thin paths where her makeup had been washed away—and her mascara was smudged.
It was like a knife to the heart. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, rolling her eyes at herself. “That was…a lot worse than I thought it was going to be.”
“So I’m guessing you don’t want the souvenir photo?” he asked, hoping some humor would calm them both. There had been a covert picture taken of every group at a certain spot in the house, and they were being projected on a screen as people left. Most of the images were actually pretty funny. Everyone was terrified, but seeing their expressions outside of the context of the house was amusing. Most people were laughing at theirs, and some were stepping up to buy copies.
“Whoa!” she exclaimed when their picture came up. “You’re not scared at all.”
He followed her gaze to the image. He was staring straight ahead, almost like he was looking at the camera, though he hadn’t known it was there. She was wrong, though. He had been scared, but he’d hidden it well. He was holding her in his arms, and she was snuggled against his chest. The only part of her head that was visible was the curtain of auburn hair that hung down to her shoulders. He had one hand pressed against the back of her head. He had been encouraging her with the gesture to hide her face from the horrors, to use his chest as a shield. His other arm was hooked beneath her bent knees, and his hand rested on her outer thigh, fingers splayed wide as if they wanted to cover as much of her as possible.
It was strange to look at himself from the outside, to see himself standing tall and unmoved, using his body to safeguard Jane even though he’d been as freaked out as everyone else.
He looked…strong.
Steady. Dependable.
Not at all like the kind of person who had screwed up his life, leaving broken hearts, unmet expectations, and juvenile criminal records in his wake.
“Would you like to purchase this, miss?” said a girl working behind the counter. She held out a print of the image that had been projected on the wall.
“No!” Jane smiled. It was good to see her smile, to know there wasn’t any lasting damage. “I don’t think I need to be in possession of permanent photographic evidence of my epic cowardice.” She heaved a sigh and looked up at him. “Can we go to the falls next? I think I need a dose of the wonders of nature. It’ll be an antidote to all this.”
“Sure thing. I’m going to hit the restroom first. Why don’t you get out of here, and I’ll meet you outside in a couple minutes?”
She nodded and headed for the exit.
And once she was out of sight, he bought the damn picture.
Chapter Eight
God, she was an idiot. By the time Cameron reappeared outside in the summer sun, Jane had already cycled through sheepishness, embarrassment, and had moved on to self-disgust. The fake stone façade of the haunted house was so obviously not real. And the building was attached to a bar and grill advertising beer specials. There was a family with two toddlers sitting on the patio, for heaven’s sake.
“I’m sorry,” she said again when he reached her side. It felt lame to apologize, but it felt lamer not to.
“Hey, don’t worry about it,” he said, blinding her with that ultra-white smile. “I’m the one who’s sorry. We shouldn’t have done that.”
“I mean, you’ve probably seen real horrors,” she said, feeling the absurd need to embroider her apology.
He merely shrugged. But he didn’t deny it.
“You must think I’m such a chicken,” she went on.
“Nah. That was pretty scary.”
“Worse than the haunted hayride?”
He laughed. “Way worse than the haunted hayride.”
“And, God, I didn’t even see any of it. But the loud noises that you can’t identify, the fear that people are after you.” She shuddered. He was looking at her with a funny expression she couldn’t decode. Was he…sad? She thought back to her previous, offhand comment about him having seen real horrors. Oh God. She’d been so focused on her own fear. But was it possible that he’d been affected by the haunted house, too? “Are you…okay?” she ventured. “Because what I just said? Loud noises and people after you? Now that I think about it, I could’ve been describing a war zone.”
He gave her a small smile, but it seemed like a resigned one. “I didn’t really think. It usually doesn’t work like that. At least not for me.”
“What doesn’t work like that? War zones?”
“PTSD.”
Holy crap. She forced herself to keep her tone even as she asked, “You have post-traumatic stress disorder?”
He shrugged. “So they say.”
Jane opened her mouth, then shut it. Because what did you say? I’m sorry you witnessed things so awful they gave you PTSD? Thank you for serving? She wanted to say both those things. She meant both those things. But she feared they would only come out sounding like platitudes, and Cameron was not the kind of man who tolerated platitudes.
“Dangling off the CN Tower was fun,” he said, clearly trying to change the subject, “but not so much Nightmares Fear Factory, huh? Who knew?” He shrugged. “But that’s how it goes. You take a risk; it doesn’t always work out.”
Jane realized with a start that she pretty much never took risks. Not anymore, anyway.
She didn’t have time to ponder this revelation, because Cameron held out an arm, like they were preparing to walk down the aisle at a wedding. “Come on, Xena, we’ve got a big-ass waterfall to see.”
“This is more my speed,” Jane said as they donned translucent yellow rain slickers and lined up for Journey Behind the Falls. Normally, she’d be afraid she would look like an idiot in the getup—like a plus-size rubber duckie. But she found herself not caring, possibly because only an hour ago she’d been crying in Cameron’s arms, so comparatively speaking, a little plastic raincoat-induced humiliation was nothing.
They’d walked down to the falls from the haunted house. It had been probably fifteen years since Jane had been to Niagara, and she’d forgotten how stunning the main attraction was. Cameron must have shared her awe because he’d maneuvered them through the crowds to a spot right against the railing and stared silently at the roaring water for a long time. Longer than he realized, she suspected.
Why was it such a surprise to find out that Cameron had PTSD? It must be fairly common among military people. It was just that she thought of him as invincible. He stalked through houses of horror and hung off buildings without batting an eyelash. He was the consummate daredevil, but with a protective streak. She shivered.
Now that she was out of the haunted house, she could think back to the experience separate from the fear that had been attached to it in the moment. The way he’d scooped her up like it was nothing. Feeling those strong arms around her. Seeing them, later, in the picture. She’d laughed off the notion of buying the picture, but a part of her had wanted it. It was stupid really, but when was the last time someone had taken care of her like that?
Never.
That was the horrible truth. Her parents had meant well, but her father’s addiction had been all-consuming for both him and Mom. Her brother had stepped in after their father died. He had, for all intents and purposes, become her parent. The only reason she was where she was in life was because of her brother, and she loved him like crazy for it.
But when was the last time someone had taken care of her without being obliged to?
It wasn’t lost on her that she’d used the word invincible earlier, in her mind, in reference to Cameron. She used to think of him as cocky. What was the difference between cocky and invincible? The writer in her pondered the question. Maybe invincibility was only justified cockiness.
They boarded an elevator that would take them down through the bedrock behind the falls. Yesterday, she’d been dangling off the highest building in Canada. Now she was headed down behind one of the largest waterfalls in the world. What had happened to her? Cameron held the door for her to enter before him. It seemed impossible that only three days ago, she hadn’t known him.
And why did he look so good in his poncho? It wasn’t fair. If she was a plus-size rubber duckie, he, with those brilliant blue-green eyes, was a movie star. A movie star in an ugly rain poncho, but still. There was no rational reason to be attracted to Cameron MacKinnon, but the more time she spent with him, the stronger his pull was.
The elevator disgorged them into a series of tunnels and lookouts they were free to explore. The first lookout was a little to the side of the falls, about halfway up. It was crowded, but as he had at ground level, Cameron made a beeline for a spot on the railing, where they would have an unobstructed view. It was misty this close to the falls, and the pavement beneath them was wet, so he took her hand. He’d used the hand from the tattooed arm, and she looked down at the swirling, mostly green foliage that came all the way down to his wrist. His hand engulfed hers, and it was warm, despite the cool, wet air swirling around them.