The Dysfunctional Test (6 page)

“Give me some credit, Fisher. Cam’s different. This is different.” It was all he could say.

Fisher shook his head and stared at him. “So help me God, you better think very hard about what you’re doing. And while you do, keep clear of me for a while.”

Troy watched him walk around the side of the house and out of view.

Then he breathed.

Forks scraped against plates. Lips sipped against cups. The chewing was so loud it was giving Camryn a headache. She almost preferred the interrogation to the silence.

Yjaka Mitch shoved a bite of sarma into his mouth and spoke around his food. “So, are you two sleeping together?”

And she was wrong. Silence was better. Much, much better.

“Of course they are,” her mother said. “Right?”

“A gentleman never tells,” Troy said.

“Ha,” Kuma Viola said. “You’re no gentleman, Troy Lansky.”

Camryn set her fork down very carefully, even though she hadn’t eaten a thing. “Some things are private. Even in this family.”

Kuma Viola shrugged and looked down at her plate. “Bet Cam recites sales figures during sex.”

Yjaka Harold coughed. “Good one.”

Nana had yet to eat a bite. “I, for one, am not convinced they are dating.”

Great. What now? Their sex positions?

Nana’s eyes narrowed, and it took all Camryn’s skill not to run from the room. “Does she snore, Troy?”

The humor in Troy’s eyes didn’t quash her nerves. He had a fifty-fifty chance of getting the answer right.

“No.”

“See, I told you it’s a lie,” Nana said, throwing her hand in the air for dramatic flair. “She snores louder than a rhino in heat.”

Heather placed her hand on Nana’s arm. “I don’t want to know how you know what a rhino in heat sounds like. And I hate to tell you this, but it’s you who snores. I shared a room with Cam for sixteen years. She doesn’t snore.”

The cabbage rolls stood up from the baking pan and started dancing a waltz on the dining room table. Camryn watched them twirl around the butter dish until Nana opened her mouth again.

“What color underwear is she wearing today, Troy?”

The sarma flopped back down.

Yjaka Mitch laughed. “She wears white cotton panties. She’s too conservative to buy the sexy kind. Am I right, Cam?”

He looked at her as if she’d actually respond to this question.

“If you must know, they’re blue.” Troy looked at her, full wattage smile in place as if to say,
See, told you they’d ask.

“Prove it,” Nana challenged.

The table looked at Camryn. “I am not showing you my underwear.”

“Aw, c’mon, honey,” Troy drawled.

She was very tempted to stick a fork in the center of his forehead. “No.”

Fisher dropped his utensils onto his plate. The clanking sound lasted longer than his silence. “Can we stop talking about this?” he yelled, more an order than a question.

“My panties have
Beauty and the Beast
on them,” Emily said, all innocence.

Anna stood. “Cam, could you help me in the kitchen for a minute?”

Anna had just become her favorite person on the planet. Camryn was going to dedicate a shrine to her on the front lawn. “Of course.” She rose and followed her sister-in-law out of the room.

While Anna stood over the cake, cutting it into small slices, she shook her head. “I’ve been quiet about this until now, but I have to ask. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Cam passed her the plates so she could dish out the cake. “I thought so. I’m not so sure now.”

Anna smiled and looked at her, her expression one of understanding. “They are a crazy bunch, but they’ll come around.” She walked over to her side of the counter to wrap an arm around Camryn’s shoulders. “You know what will shut them up faster?”

Before Camryn could dare to ask, Anna fluffed the hem of Camryn’s dress, peered underneath, and dropped it back down in less time than it took Camryn to blink.

“Dear God, they are blue.”

Camryn sighed. “I can’t believe you just did that. You’ve been in this family too long. They’ve corrupted you.”

“Relax,” she said, handing her two plates of cake. “I’m doing this for you.”

“Is nothing sacred in this family?” she muttered, not expecting a response.

Anna picked up two plates. “Are you kidding? When I got pregnant with Emily, I prayed every day and night that I wouldn’t go into labor with the family around. And what happened? Labor during Sunday dinner. Do you know how horrifying it was giving birth with ten people in the room?” Anna smiled despite the memory. “But when she was born, it was worth it, Cam. Troy doesn’t have anyone. Can you imagine that? As mean and crazy as your family can be sometimes, I’d take that over no one.”

Leave it to Anna to be the voice of reason. To put her in place. “You’re right. You’re totally right. Thank you.”

Anna’s smile never faltered. “Let them get used to the idea. This too shall pass.”

They walked back into the crowded dining room to hand out dessert. Once everyone had a mouthful, Anna said, “For the record, her panties
are
blue. I checked.”

On the drive home, Troy pulled out his cell and smiled at the incoming text.

“What are you smiling about? That was a disaster.”

Aside from Fisher getting pissed off, Nana insulting Cam to the point where he was pretty sure she cried upstairs, and Troy possibly losing his best friend for life, he’d say it was a complete success. “It wasn’t that bad. They believed us.”

“Only after Anna forced me to flash her in the kitchen.”

He would’ve loved to see the look on her face for that. “Heather just texted me. She put your suitcase in the trunk so you can stay in my guest room.”

She said nothing.

Troy started playing with his ringtones. Grinning, he played the demo for “I Will Survive”. “What do you think of your new ringtone?” She didn’t respond. “No? Okay, how about this?” “Crazy” by Patsy Cline chimed through the car.

“I don’t need my own ringtone. And you’re not funny.”

“I’m a little funny.” He cued “My Life” by Billy Joel.

“What was my ringtone before?” she asked.

He fished through his downloads and played the “Imperial March” instrumental from
Star Wars
, the music used whenever Darth Vader entered a scene.

“Very funny.”

“Told you I was,” he said. At least she was smiling now. He found “When I See You Smile” by Bad English, and hit “Save.”

She pulled into his driveway and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Are you sure it’s okay I stay here? I could scar your reputation.”

She was trying to be funny, but he wasn’t buying it. “Your family was wrong, Cam. What Nana said back there, it was mean and completely not true.”

Her gaze returned to the windshield. Her index finger drummed the steering wheel. “Fisher was pretty upset.”

Yeah, and he didn’t want to think about it. He exited the car, took her suitcase from the trunk, and unlocked the front door for them. “Go get your pajamas on. We’re drinking beer and watching
Night of the Living Dead
.”

She was going to laugh if it was the last thing he did tonight. The second time he’d been placed in foster care with the Covics, Camryn and himself, along with Fisher and Heather, had snuck downstairs to watch the movie on television. Heather had run upstairs crying and Fisher had fallen asleep. He and Cam had spent the whole movie laughing at the absurdity.

She smiled and took the suitcase from him. “Make mine wine instead of beer, and you’re on.”

Camryn stepped into her pajama boxers and stared at the sleeper sofa, then at the pool table. Who had a pool table in their guest room? No way was the bed going to pull out with the table that close.

“Um, Troy?”

She heard his feet pad down the hallway. “I’m coming to get you, Barbara,” he said in a gloomy drone, mimicking the line from their movie.

She almost smiled.

Troy leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms over his bare chest. Bare chest. Muscled biceps. Six pack abs. Or maybe twelve pack. All the moisture left her mouth. Her gaze darted down to his pajama bottoms and stopped.

He followed her gaze down. “What?”

“You’re wearing SpongeBob SquarePants pajamas.”

“Yeah. And?”

“Do you have on Batman underwear too?” God. Even he could make SpongeBob sexy.

He grinned, causing her face heat. “Nope. Plain tighty whities. Wanna see?”

Her skin was going to burn off her face. “No.” Yes.

“What’s wrong with SpongeBob?”

She stared him down. “Aside from the fact you’re thirty years old, you mean?”

His eyebrows lifted. “I knew I should’ve worn the Scooby Doo ones. These don’t turn you on, do they?”

She sighed. He laughed. He had a great laugh. An uninhibited sound meant to dissuade unease and born to light every nerve in her body.

“Where’s your shirt?” she asked, irritated that he could get to her just by doing nothing. He did nothing better than anyone she knew. He shrugged. “You promised me pajamas. That includes a shirt.”
Please, for the love of all humanity, put on a shirt!

He nodded. “So I did.” He left the room and came back seconds later wearing a Kermit the Frog tee. “Better?”

Dear God, she was going to be sharing a house with a man who just stepped off a preschool choo-choo train. “Do you own anything without a cartoon character on it?”

“Technically, Kermit’s a Muppet.”

“Never mind, Troy.”

He took a step closer. “Why does it bother you?”

“You’re an adult.”

He shrugged again. “One should embrace their inner child.”

“Or the outer child in your case.”

He stared at her a moment, letting a slow, easy grin form. Curse him. “Even you were a child once, Cam. Don’t you ever wake up early on a Saturday morning, just for the hell of it, and eat a bowl of cereal while watching cartoons?”

He was hopeless. “No.”

“What a shame.” He was watching her again, like he wanted to laugh at her. Or start a pillow fight. “Emily bought me these. Every Christmas Anna takes her shopping for my gift. I wear them because they remind me of her.”

“Oh.” Oh. Now that was really sweet actually.

She tore her gaze away and glanced around the room to avoid looking at him anymore. The vision of him without a shirt would be permanently etched in her brain forever, combined with the sweet sentiment of him wearing something his goddaughter bought him. What right did he have to flaunt his sexiness anyway? It was even more charming he cared that much for Emily.

And what did she call him in here for?

Bed. Right. “I can’t pull out the sleeper sofa with the pool table so close.”

He came up behind her, pressing his chest against her back. Something strange happened to her insides at his touch. She froze. Pinched her eyes closed. He had her boxed in now. He smelled so good, like the outdoors in early summer. And soap. His breath fanned the back of her neck. Mentally, she told herself to close her mouth. Physically, she couldn’t even swallow. Leaning forward, he slid his hand over her belly and pulled the handle on the sleeper in front of them. His arm brushed hers as it hung limp at her side. He had such dark, tanned skin compared to hers.

The springs creaked as he pulled. Half the bed emerged. She looked over her shoulder, realizing the bed
would
clear the pool table. Barely.

“Oh. I guess it does fit. Never mind,” she said, feeling like an idiot. And flustered. Troy could always get under her skin so easily. “I got it.”

He didn’t move, still determined to help. The heat from his body had her temp mounting. They both reached for the bar to extend the bed, and while ensued in a battle of who could pull the bed out first, they flew backward. She landed on top of him on the pool table.

She paused, hands sprawled out. “This is awkward,” she muttered.

“I don’t know,” he argued. His voice sounded strange. Deeper. “I’ve never had sex on this table. Might be fun.”

She uttered a sound of distress and scrambled off of him, landing on the sleeper. “Would you be serious, Troy?”

She kinda wished he was.

“We
are
supposed to be dating,” he answered, as if not disconcerted in the least.

“Not without witnesses.” She pushed her hair away from her face.

His laughter filled the room for several seconds as he sat upright and hopped off the table. “Can I help you with anything else, Cam? Finding the shower? Using a blanket?”

Exhaling, her eyes narrowed. Infuriating man! “Does the neon Miller Lite beer sign turn off? It’s a bit bright for a nightlight.”

He pulled a string hanging under the sign on the wall, sending the room into near darkness. “Better?”