Cameron Wants to Be a Hero (Love Austen 2)

Cameron winced. “My fault. I should come with taillights.”

Gently, Henry took his hands and inspected them. “Honey and a bandage should do the trick. Both of which I have”—He glanced at the honey stand behind them—“Or soon will.”

“I’ll grab your wallet. The manuka honey,” Georgie said, and wheeled to the stall.

Soft fingers trailed over Cameron’s knuckles and fingertips as Henry double-checked his palms. But his gaze never lifted. “Ahead. Your boyfriend is looking for you.”

“Boyfriend?”

A quizzical, fleeting glance. “John, I believe you called him?”

Cameron scrubbed his hands over his face and jumped at the pain. Then jumped again as he glimpsed John sauntering through the crowds, inspecting faces.

“Oh, God.” He eyed the fabric stall six feet away. Could he crawl under that table?

Henry’s eyes darted from Cameron to John and back again.

“Do you think if you covered me with your body,” Cameron whispered, “he might not spot me?”

Henry’s brow arched.

Too late.

John trotted over. “What are you doing on the ground? You look ridiculous. Get up. I’ve had the best idea.”

Henry stiffened. “A gentleman might check his friend was okay first.”

“Gentleman? What century are you from?”

“Did you not receive the memo? Good manners never go out of style.”

“I’m sure he’s fine. You are, aren’t you?” John frowned at him.

Cameron scrambled to pick up his books, wincing, and Henry helped him.

“Thanks to Henry I’ll be fine.”

John sized Henry up, like he was trying to work out how tall he might be unraveled. “How did he help?”

“He has bandages in his SUV,” Henry said.

“For those little scrapes?” John shook his head. “Let the fresh air get to them, Cameron.”

Henry found his Happy Socks. A soft smile quirked his lips, and he tucked the socks into Cameron’s bag.

Probably because he didn’t have a bag of his own.

Cameron faced John, who was tapping his foot rapidly. “As I was saying. I have the best idea. You, me, Isabella, and your brother. We’ll take my BMW out for a spin. Head out to Paua Bay Walkway.”

“Paua Bay Walkway?” Georgie rolled next to John with a glass jar of honey, a wallet, and a book settled on her thighs. “Pretty! The cliffs, the sand . . . ohhh, the penguins.”

John hesitated, then nodded vigorously. “This woman speaks sense. Cameron, are you ready?”

“Isn’t it a two-hour drive?”

“One and three-quarters. Time will fly with the top down.”

“It’s not a bit cold for that?”

“You’re wearing a jacket, aren’t you?”

Cameron shifted foot to foot. Not that he disliked the idea of a coastal walk, but it would take most of the day, and Isabella and Brandon would sneak off, leaving him at John’s mercy.

His stomach twisted as he squared his shoulders. “I was hoping to spend time with my friends.”

John glanced toward Henry and Georgie. “Friends?”

“Uh huh.”

Thank goodness Henry and Georgie weren’t surprised by his announcement. In fact, bless them, they nodded along, murmuring agreement. Like this had been their plan all along.

“Well,” John said to Henry tightly. “If you have a way of getting out there, I suppose you can follow us.”

Henry and Georgie exchanged a silent conversation, and Henry inclined his head. “I wouldn’t mind observing . . . the penguins. Perhaps,” Henry turned to Cameron, “you’d prefer the warmth of our SUV?”

Oh, yes please. “I’d—”

“I promised to take him for the ride of his life,” John said. “Cameron wants to feel real power around him.”

Cameron stood gaping like an idiot.

Despite the countless dialogue-rich books under his belt, not a word came to him when it mattered most. Why was saying no so difficult? Even the idea of it made him feel guilty.

Henry hummed quietly, an edge of disbelief toning his reply. “Is that right?”

“He told me right before we pulled pork together.” John’s teeth positively glittered. “Tell him, Cameron.”

Cameron flustered. “I mean, I did, but—”

“There you have it.” John ripped Cameron’s bag from Henry and held it hostage. “We’ll see you out there.”

Two hours later, the BMW lurched to a stop near Paua Bay Walkway. Ragged cliffs overlooked stony beaches covered in shells and seaweed. Waves rushed against the rocks, splashing into foam, and gulls circled overhead.

Cameron tasted the salt air—had tasted it the last half hour as the wind blasted over his face, whipping up his hair.

His palms still stung. He’d taken to hugging his knees for warmth and reading one of his new books for comfort.

John climbed out the car, winking. “Was that exhilarating or what?”

“It was . . . quite something,” Cameron said. If he could just finish this scene . . .

“Arrived well before your . . . friends, too.”

“I suppose they followed the road rules.”

From the back seat, Brandon and Isabella pulled out of their hushed conversation. Isabella climbed suggestively over Brandon to exit the car. “We thoroughly enjoyed the ride.”

Brandon teasingly reminded her that might be because she’d taken his scarf and hat.