I opened the spare bedroom and sighed at the contents.

“Stop being a chicken,” I lectured myself.

Then I put on my shoes, tied my hair up in a messy bun, and got to work.

A half hour later, my SUV climbed the last stretch of snow-laden dirt road that led to Cal’s. Camden’s black Jeep sat parked in the driveway, the tires and lower portion of the paint caked in mud.

I put my car in park and killed the ignition, and before I was ready, I found myself knocking on his front door.

Only a minute passed before he flung said door open. He really was bigger than when he’d left; my mind hadn’t made that up yesterday. He dwarfed me in a way that would have intimidated me if I didn’t know him so well.

Camden might slice me open emotionally with a few careless words, but I was 100 percent safe with him and always had been. Oddly enough, I was probably the only person in Alba who could say that.

“What do you want, Willow? I was trying to get the Scout up and running.” His voice was rougher than the scruffy beard he’d grown.

Well, that explained the grease streaks on the white shirt that draped over his heavily muscled frame and the jeans that hung sinfully well on his hips.

Enough of that. This is Cam.

“I wanted to bring you a few things,” I said, motioning to the bag I had slung over my shoulder. “Can I come in for a minute?”

A debate flickered in those dark eyes momentarily before he nodded and stepped back, allowing me entrance.

The house was just as I’d remembered—an eclectic homage to the man who’d built it between visits home from wherever he’d been working. The entry’s smooth hardwood led to warmly painted walls that boasted exotic artwork framed between exposed beams of reclaimed wood.

A smile lifted the corners of my lips as I glanced around.

“What?” Cam asked.

Saying “nothing” would just irk him, so I was honest about my random thoughts.

“I was thinking that Cal was years ahead of the whole reclaimed-wood trend. He would have been the ultimate hipster now.”

He blinked at me, and warmth crept up my neck.

“You know, because hipsters do everything before it’s cool?” I added, hoping to ease the awkwardness of my joke.

It didn’t.

“Right.” He looked at me with expectation, and I cleared my throat.

“My mom asked me to drop this by.” When he didn’t reach for the bag, I kicked off my shoes, skirted around his enormous body, and headed for the kitchen. I’d been in this house almost as often as Cam growing up, so at least I knew my way around. When I reached the well-loved handmade table, I set the bag down and emptied the contents.