Sea Swept by Nora Roberts Read Free Book Online

skin like oil. “I don’t like being touched.”
    “Okay, fine. You sit where I put you.” Cam eased back, then pulled over a footstool and sat. Since Foolish was now shivering in terror, Cam plucked him up and dumped him in Seth’s lap. “We got a problem,” Cam began, and prayed for inspiration on how to handle it. “I can’t watch you twenty-four hours a day. And if I could, I’m damned if I would. You take off for Florida, I’m going to have to go find you and haul you back. That’s really going to piss me off.”
    Because the dog was there, Seth stroked him, gaining comfort while giving it. “What do you care where I go?”
    “I can’t say I do. But Ray did. So you’re going to have to stay.”
    “Stay?” It was an option Seth had never considered. Certainly hadn’t allowed himself to believe. “Here? When you sell the house—”
    “Who’s selling the house?”
    “I—” Seth broke off, decided he was saying too much. “People figured you would.”
    “People figured wrong. Nobody’s selling this house.” It surprised Cam just how firm his feelings were on that particular point. “I don’t know how we’re going to manage it yet. I’m still working on that. But in the meantime, you’d better get this into your head. You’re staying put.” Which meant, Cam realized with a jolt, so was he.
    It appeared his luck was still running bad.
    “We’re stuck with each other, kid, for the next little while.”

Three

    C AM FIGURED THIS had to be the weirdest week of his life. He should have been in Italy, prepping for the motocross he’d planned to treat himself to. Most of his clothes and his boat were in Monte Carlo, his car was in Nice, his motorcycle in Rome.
    And he was in St. Chris, baby-sitting a ten-year-old with a bad attitude. He hoped to Christ the kid was in school where he belonged. They’d had a battle royal over that little item that morning. But then, they were at war over most everything.
    Kitchen duty, curfews, laundry, television picks. Cam shook his head as he pried off the rotting treads on the back steps. He’d swear the boy would square up for a bout if you said good morning.
    And maybe he wasn’t doing a fabulous job as guardian, but damn it, he was doing his best. He had the tension headache to prove it. And mostly, he was on his own. Phillip had promised weekends, and that was something. But it also left five hideous days between. Ethan made a point of coming by and staying a few hours every evening after he pulled in the day’s catch.
    But that left the days.
    Cam would have traded his immortal soul for a week in Martinique. Hot sand and hotter women. Cold beer and no hassles. Instead he was doing laundry, learning the mysteries of microwave cooking, and trying to keep tabs on a boy who seemed hell-bent on making life miserable.
    “You were the same way.”
    “Hell I was. I wouldn’t have lived to see twelve if I’d been that big an idiot.”
    “Most of that first year Stella and I used to lie in bed at night and wonder if you’d still be here in the morning.”
    “At least there were two of you. And . . .”
    Cam’s hand went limp on the hammer. His fingers simply gave way until it thudded on the ground beside him. There in the old, creaking rocker on the back porch sat Ray Quinn. His face was wide and smiling, his hair a tousled white mane that grew long and full. He wore his favored gray fishing pants, a faded gray T-shirt with a red crab across the chest. His feet were bare.
    “Dad?” Cam’s head spun once, sickly, then his heart burst with joy. He leaped to his feet.
    “You didn’t think I’d leave you fumbling through this alone, did you?”
    “But—” Cam shut his eyes. He was hallucinating, he realized. It was stress and fatigue, grief tossed in.
    “I always tried to teach you that life’s full of surprises and miracles. I wanted you to open your mind not just to possibilities, Cam, but to impossibilities.”
    “Ghosts? God!”
    “Why