“There’s something else you don’t know about me.”
“And what’s that?”
She sank into a fencing stance. “I am not left handed.” Tossing the rod to her right hand, she lunged forward.
Hooting with laughter, Tucker stumbled back, grabbing another rod on the fly and bringing it up to parry. Having spent half his life on the stage in one community theater production or another, Tucker was given to theatrics. He let them fly with flashy swordsmanship and more quotes from The Princess Bride as the pair of them circled around the refreshment tables.
Cam watched as Norah steadily drove him back, her movements tight and controlled compared to Tucker’s dramatics. “She actually knows how to fence, doesn’t she.”
“Yep. Three years of fencing club in college.”
Cam chuckled, waiting for Norah to hand Tucker his ass.
“Be careful, cousin.”
Cam pretended not to hear the warning in Miranda’s voice. “Mmm?”
She looked up at him. “Look, I’m not blind. I see how you are around Norah. You aren’t obvious, like Mitch, but you watch her when she walks into a room. You’re into her.”
He should’ve known Miranda would notice something. She knew him better than almost anyone. “Well, yeah. Last time I checked, I do have a pulse.”
“It’s not a good idea.”
Right, because he’d proved he couldn’t make good choices in the relationship department on his own and needed to submit the candidates for review. Cam chained down the surge of temper and kept his voice even. “Are you warning me off for her sake or for mine?”
“Both. I don’t think she’s in a good place right now. I know something’s going on with her that she hasn’t told me, and I’m worried about her. But quite apart from that, you know exactly why I think she’s a bad idea for you.”
Cam scowled. “It’s not the same.”
“Don’t get pissy. I just don’t want to see either of you get hurt.” She shot a glance back at Norah, who handily disarmed Tucker. “You’ve both been hurt enough.”
“Thanks for the warning, but I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”
“Surrender, McGee! You’re bested!” Norah shouted in triumph.
Tucker dropped to his knees, the tip of her impromptu sword at his throat. “I yield, milady. Do with me what you will. Only tell me you’ll come back and do the fight choreography for our summer production of The Pirates of Penzance.”
She mimed cutting an N in the air, then bowed to enthusiastic applause. “Acquire me marshmallows, and I might consider it.”
“As you wish.” Tucker scrambled up as Norah turned to join Cam and Miranda by the fire, her cheeks flushed from cold and exertion.
“You seem quite cheerful,” Cam observed.
“Winning agrees with me.”
“Your marshmallows, milady.” Tucker presented them with a flourish.
“Thanks.” She threaded one on the rod and held it into the fire.
Tucker made a sound of protest. “I thought you remembered how to do this.”
Ignoring him, Norah lifted the marshmallow free of the blaze, watching it burn for a minute before she blew out the flame and tipped the rod toward Miranda. “Perfectly charred, exactly as you like it. A peace offering because I know you didn’t want to come out tonight.”
Miranda plucked off the marshmallow, tossing it from hand to hand to cool before chomping in. “Your tribute is appreciated. Make me another, and I might even forget I’ve already stopped feeling my ass.” She rotated so her backside faced the bonfire.
“It’s not that cold.” Norah stuck the second marshmallow into the flames.
“You haven’t been below the Mason-Dixon long enough to lose your tolerance yet. One summer down here and you’ll be back to freezing at forty degrees, like the rest of us.”