The Dysfunctional Test

Chapter 4

Troy had just enough time to shower after work before Cam was due to show up for her so-called proposal. For a day and a half, his mind geeked about what it could be. He couldn't think of a solitary thing he had that Camryn could want.

If she was nothing else, she was punctual. He had the next ten days off work for Heather's wedding, so his boss didn't mind letting him out early. They had finished the road construction on South 84th Street by lunch, anyway. Cam was not the type of woman one met covered in asphalt and sunscreen. Even if she was like a sister.

She was the only woman on Earth who could make him nervous.

He stripped out of his jeans and t-shirt in the bathroom, dropped them to the floor, and stepped under the spray of cold water. It had been a damn hot one today, even for June. In seconds, his body cooled down. He'd just finished rinsing the soap off when the doorbell rang.

He wrapped a towel around his waist and ran to the front door. "Cam, you're early."

She stood on his doorstep wearing a pair of pressed khakis and a white blouse. She surveyed him through those huge hazel eyes of hers. "Troy, you're naked."

"Not completely. I do have a towel." He stepped out of the way to let her inside. "Have a seat. I'll go get dressed."

After pulling on a clean t-shirt and shorts in his bedroom, he walked down the short hall to the kitchen. Knowing her answer, he asked anyway. "Want a beer?"

"No, thank you."

He grabbed a bottle of Miller Lite and sat across from her on the futon. "How's Chicago treating you?"

She took her eyes away from their family portrait to look at him. "I'm moving back home after the wedding."

With Camryn Covic, someone had to look very hard to see emotion. She had feelings, but buried way deep under all the crap she piled on top. For Troy, his tell was her eyes. She had the same look now she had twenty years ago when the social worker had first brought him to her parents' house. He'd gone to bed without dinner, by choice, and she'd brought him a PB&J with the crust cut off. She hadn't asked about his bruises, hadn't asked about his torn clothes. In fact, she hadn't said anything except-

"You wanna talk about it?" he asked her now, mimicking the question she'd asked him so long ago.

She searched his face for several long beats, and then a smile traced the corners of her mouth. A sad smile, but a smile. She remembered. "No, but thank you."

That had been his response back then, too. Troy took a swig of beer to dislodge the lump in his throat. Camryn was also the only person who could make him feel sentimental.

"I haven't seen the house since you bought it. I like what you've done."

"Thanks." He glanced around. The living room walls were a burnt sienna. His furniture was black. Everything else screamed bachelor pad. "Heather says it needs a woman's touch."

"Well, then it wouldn't be yours."

Man, she always did understand him. Even more than her brother, his best friend. She understood how important it was, after a childhood like his, to own something of his own. She'd framed the family portrait of them from one Christmas as a housewarming gift. She'd also bought him a jar of peanut butter.

"So, Cam, what's this proposal? Is it at least indecent?"

Her posture turned rigid. "It's indecent all right. It's not really a proposal though--"

"Damn," he said, trying to lighten her mood. Futile. "Is it bigger than a--"

"I need a date for Heather's wedding."

Troy snapped his mouth shut, totally not expecting her to say that. Did she want him to set her up or something? 'Cause he didn't know a man who could handle her. "And?"

Her eyes closed briefly. "Would you be my date for the wedding?"

He almost laughed until he remembered she didn't have a sense of humor. He glanced around the room for a hidden camera anyway.

"What are you doing?"

"Um, nothing," he mumbled. "What about your very serious boyfriend? Fisher said--"

"It didn't work out." Impatience bit her tone, and she swallowed. "Look, long story short, I'm alone. You know Mom and Dad. Heather's worried about the family embarrassing her. I just need someone to be the guy I've been dating long enough to get through the trip. We'll break up right after."

He got up and looked under the couch. There had to be a hidden camera somewhere. A microphone. Something. Because Camryn Covic was stoically sitting in his living room, asking him out.

"Troy, what are you doing?"

"Did Heather wire the house? How'd she get you to do this?"

When she didn't respond, he looked up from where he kneeled on the floor. Her hand fluttered to her mouth and her gaze darted to the window.

She wasn't kidding. And he was an ass.

He sat back down with a measure of control. "I've seen this movie, you know. It always ends with them falling in love."

"Won't happen."

She was right on that account. "You can get any guy you want. Why me?"

The way she looked at him had even his inner child cowering. "There's no need to make fun of me. I know you don't usually date women like me, but--"

"Women like you?"

"Yes, we're vastly different. I'm not you're type."

Now he was interested. "And what's my type?"

She rubbed her forehead. "Thin, bottle blonde, and a bust size bigger than their IQ."

"Ouch, Cam. Now who's insulting whom?"

At least he'd succeeded in frustrating her as much as she had to him. Not easily done with regards to Cam. The woman could handle anything, make any person feel like an imbecile.

She let out a harsh exhale and looked away.

"Why wouldn't I date you?" Not that he didn't know the answer, but he was curious what her reasoning was.

"Christ, Troy. You look like you've been digitally enhanced from the moment you get out of bed."

"Was that a compliment?" It kinda sounded like a compliment.

She just stared at him, so he looked back. Really looked.

Camryn was more cute than hot. More girl-next-door than girl-on-stripper-pole. She had a cherubic face, slightly offset by a button nose. Her complexion was paler than her siblings, making her shoulder-length, cinnamon brown hair an emphasis. She wasn't a twig like Heather, having more of an hourglass curve he could always appreciate in a woman. But her eyes? It was like she'd never grown into them. A cosmic mix of green and blue and brown.

If she weren't Camryn Covic, he probably would be attracted to her.

"You know me, Troy," she said quietly, finally breaking eye contact. "I know what doing this will mean for you. But, please. I don't want Heather looking back on her wedding day and only remembering how I ruined it."

She couldn't ruin something if she tried. More importantly, though- "They'll be pissed at me. Your family is the only one I have. After this supposed breakup, they'll hate me."

She shook her head. Stared into her lap. "No, they won't. They'll think you temporarily lost your mind. They'll hate me. For letting you go, or hurting you, or messing up another relationship."

No way did she believe that. Except the defeat in her face said she did. Her lips pressed together as if trying not to cry. The Cam he knew didn't know how to cry.

"Are you even attracted to me?"

Her mouth popped open. Her head whipped up. "Excuse me?"

"The family is going to expect us to act like a couple. Holding hands, kissing, public displays of affection."

"I don't do public displays of affection."

He wondered if she did private ones. He scooted next to her and draped an arm behind her back.

She flew off the couch. "What are you doing?"

He didn't think her eyes could get any bigger. How wrong he was. "Kissing you."

"Why?"

Standing, he took a step toward her.

She stepped back.

They did this dance until she backed herself solidly against his entryway table. He pinned her by placing his hands on either side of her waist. When he leaned in, not to kiss her but to whisper in her ear, his cheek brushed hers. The rough rasp of his day old growth grazed her pale, soft cheek. She sucked in a breath and grabbed his shirt, bunching it in her hand.

And just like that, he didn't know who was playing the trick on whom. Had no idea what his original point had been in doing this. He closed his eyes and inhaled, smelling lemongrass. Light and clean and distinctly her. He couldn't tell if it was her heart or his pounding. Either way, it wasn't a good sign. For balance, he opened his eyes.

"Can you fake this kind of attraction, Cam? Because if you can't, this won't work." He took a step back, not enough to free her, but to look at her to see if she was as ruffled as him.

She stared at his chest. Swallowed. "This was a mistake. I'm sorry." As if just noticing her grip on his shirt, she dropped her hand. "Pretend I never said anything." She brought her arm up and brushed by him.

Had that been a tremor in her voice?

With his back to her, he could hear her walking to the couch to grab her purse, and then turning the knob on his front door. In the twenty years he'd known Camryn, he'd never known her to ask for anything, even help. Especially help.

Not then. Not now. Not ever.

It had to be so humiliating for her coming to him, particularly about something like this. And he'd just embarrassed the crap out of her. After all she'd done for him-

"I'll do it, Cam." He turned and faced her as she paused. "I'll do whatever you need. I promise."

She gazed at her hand on the knob and nodded, but said nothing before leaving.

He stared at the door. Ran a hand over his hair. Stared at the door some more.

Finally, he pulled out his cell. "A little warning would have been nice, Heather!" His voice came out way harsher than he'd intended, but he'd just been rattled three times in the course of twenty minutes.

"I know, I know. But Cam would've killed me if I said anything." She paused for him to speak. He didn't. "Are-you going to do it?"

He looked at the door again. "Yes."

"Thank you, Troy."

Heather's voice had gotten weepy, so he plopped on the couch and drank his beer.

"That guy she was dating? Maxwell? He kind of did a number on her."

No one ever did anything to Camryn. She'd never allow it. "How so?"

"Don't tell her I said anything, okay? She just-"

Troy set his beer down and leaned forward. "Just what, Heather?"

She paused long enough to have him worried. "She got let go from the firm and found out she has to evict from her apartment. She's moving back home. It's probably killing her."

Yeah, he could tell. Strip Camryn of control and independence, and she was nothing. In her eyes. "What does that have to do with the ex?"

"He broke up with her right before she got fired. Said some things-"

Troy stood, tension wringing his jaw tight. If it was bad enough to have Heather upset, he could only imagine what it was doing to Camryn. "What did he say?"

"I just think she needs a morale boost. Tell her she's pretty. Make her feel special. If anyone can do that, you can."

Camryn was not one of these women men had to placate. Say empty, meaningless things to. He was pretty sure Cam would punch him if he tried. Heather knew that, too. And they definitely weren't real a couple, so what in the hell had happened for Heather to want to intervene?

"Heather, what did the guy say?"

She paused. "He called her a robot. Compared her to a fish in bed."

Troy ground his teeth.

"He was sleeping with someone behind her back."

Troy looked at the futon like Camryn was still sitting there. That look on her face and the things she'd said started making more sense now. If Cam was anything, she was confident. When she'd come over today, she'd seemed normal. He hadn't bothered to try and understand or delve deeper.

No. He'd cracked jokes and-

"I'll talk to you later, Heather. Thanks for letting me know."