Page 161 of The Pucking Wrong Man

My heart nearly stopped when I saw Camden behind her, looking completely at ease and confident and flawless...despite the fact that he’d just walked into a house of horrors.

It was all I could do not to burst into tears. How had he found me?

How was he always able to save me?

“Hi, baby girl,” Camden said cheerfully, coming over and placing a soft kiss on my cheek, his hand warm and comforting and perfect as he gently squeezed my shoulder. He glanced at the food laid out on the table. “This looks amazing, Mrs. Carver. My mouth is literally watering.”

“Who are you?” Mr. Carver asked, the first words he’d spoken since I’d arrived. He was eying Camden like he was an alien who’d landed from space.

In this family, he might as well have been.

“I’m Camden, Mr. Carver. Anastasia’s boyfriend. I’m sorry for the surprise visit, I was held up with hockey practice. It was so nice that Ana was able to get a ride.” I didn’t miss his inflection on the word nice, but Mr. and Mrs. Carver seemed to.

“Hockey practice?” Mr. Carver asked, the first time I’d heard him sound interested in something since I’d met him.

“Anastasia hasn’t mentioned it? I’m a defenseman for the Knights.”

Mr. Carver leaned forward. “The Dallas Knights?”

“Yes, sir.”

And just like that, I watched as Mr. and Mrs. Carver turned into putty in Camden’s hands.

“This is Michael, our son,” Mrs. Carver said, gesturing to the sonofabitch as Camden settled on my other side.

Camden was silent for a moment, and I saw his gaze was focused on where Michael’s fingers were digging into my thigh. I’d forgotten his nails were even hurting me—I was just so fucking relieved Camden was here.

“Hello, Michael,” Camden said evenly, his stare slowly dragging to Michael’s face. I shivered at the underlying threat in his voice. Michael must have heard it, too, because he yanked his hand away from my leg.

I couldn’t help but look at Michael—not surprised at the look of pure fury in his eyes. Michael had probably been planning this dinner for months, and Camden was ruining everything for him.

Camden leaned back, his arm draped casually over my shoulders. “Can you grab the potatoes for me, Michael? I’m starving.”

Michael stared at him for a moment, a menacing snarl on his lips, as he finally slowly reached for the bowl. But Mrs. Carver got to it before he could, practically shoving the potatoes at Camden in her effort to get them to him.

It would have been funny if anyone but the Carvers were the ones doing it. There just wasn’t anything funny about them.

We began to eat—or at least everyone else did. I couldn’t stomach a single bite, even with Camden here. Now that my initial surge of dopamine at his arrival had leveled, I was getting anxious again.

Camden was going to find out about the pictures.

And he was going to be so disappointed in me. Cheeks burning, I glanced at Camden, expecting to see a scowl on his handsome face. But when he saw me looking, he gave me a reassuring smile, like everything was fine.

“So, Michael, how’s work treating you?” Camden said lightly.

Michael stiffened next to me.

“Oh, Michael’s in between jobs, right now. His manager was just awful,” Mrs. Carver commented. “He’ll find something soon, though. He’s such a smart boy.”

I almost gagged on the small bite of mashed potatoes I’d just put into my mouth at the idea of Michael being called a “boy.” He was far too evil to ever resemble that word.

“Thanks, Mom,” Michael said through gritted teeth, not sounding thankful at all.

I didn’t speak a word for the rest of dinner. Neither did Michael.

Camden, meanwhile, ate every bite on his plate, and entertained Mr. and Mrs. Carver with NHL stories the entire time. It felt like forever had passed when he finally pushed back from his chair. “Well, we’d better get going. I’m sure Anastasia’s exhausted from dance today. This was amazing, though.”

Mrs. Carver blinked at me like she’d forgotten I was there. “Oh, you can’t stay for dessert?” she asked disappointedly.

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