Chapter 16
Cameron thought she was dying. The shock her body received from the view in front of her was strong enough to send her to the emergency room. A limo was not sitting outside of the hotel this time. But a horse and buggy was.
The buggy was pearl white and trimmed in delicate purple. The seats inside were a matching purple. The horse was large and white as well with a long, silky mane. The driver was a short, portly man that was sweating profusely. He waddled over to the buggy door and opened it. In a thick English accent, he said brightly, "Watch the step, if you please, little lady."
Cameron couldn't help but smile at him. "Thank you." Once they both were seated, the driver cracked the reins and the horse trotted down the street. The young doctor looked around her. The sky was as blue and sparkling as House's eyes. There was no cloud in the sky as families and teens and couples bustled down the street that Saturday morning.
House watched, enthralled, as a breeze lifted strands of Cameron's hair. He wasn't saying a word, so she started the conversation. "You rented all this?"
He confirmed humbly. "We don't get to be out here like this everyday. I thought it would be nice," he said.
"Nice?" she gaped. "This is amazing."
House shifted his cane from one hand to the other, trying to hide the pleasure he derived from her giddiness.
"Did you have breakfast?" he asked.
Cameron shook her head. "I didn't have time. I was getting ready and then everyone just appeared in our room," she said with big eyes.
He laughed lightly. "You and Izzie are the popular girls. Can I tell everybody in the boys' locker room that I got to second base? It would really help my rep," he teased.
She tossed her head back in feigned agitation. House reached underneath the seat across from them. He came back up with a big brown paper sack. "Here," he said. "There are muffins, bagels, an apple, and fresh orange juice in there."
Cameron studied his face before she took the bag. "Thank you, House," she said earnestly.
They rode through the prettier streets of LA for about an hour. At last, they went down a long lane lined with dogwood trees. White and pink petals fell all around them as the horse kept up a steady stride. One pink petal fell on House's nose. Cameron turned just in time to see it. She giggled at the sight while House lips pursed, embarrassed. Lifting her hand to pull it off, she rubbed the softness between her thumb and finger. The smell of nature encompassed them both. Cameron finally let the petal fall from her hand, but she kept her fingers close to his face. She tried to fight the urge, but failed as she brushed the backs of her fingers across his cheek.
When she saw fear and passion in House's eyes, Cameron flipped her wrist so that her palm cupped his cheek. The bottom of her hand rested at the corner of his lips. No longer able to breathe, House took her hand in his, but left them both on his face. "Why didn't you make a move last night?" he whispered, afraid to hear the answer.
The question ripped Cameron away from the fantasy they had created. I have to be a puzzle, she reminded herself. Taking a deep breath, she countered, "You tell me."
Irritation and self-doubt flashed through House's eyes. "Because you don't want to sleep with me. I'm a project to you—not a man," he said almost viciously.
Cameron blinked with surprise. She tore her hand away from him as she felt anger rising from the pit of her stomach. "If that's what you think, then you need to snoop through my file again because you don't know me very well," she said firmly as if admonishing a brat.
House sighed. He knew he was a brat. "I'm sorry. I didn't really mean it. Let's just go to the next thing," he said apologetically.
Cameron's eyes glowed with curiosity. "What next thing?"
His smile returned.
The buggy stopped at a strip of boardwalk on the beach. House instructed the driver to stay there. He popped a Vicodin into his mouth and they got out of the carriage.
House and Cameron began walking up the boardwalk. Skaters rolled past them as they soaked up their environment. "It's so beautiful here," Cameron said on a sigh of contentment. "But I like Jersey."
His cheek twitched with amusement. "Me too. The smog just smells better there."
They smiled at each other comfortably. House had a hard time gripping his cane because it was slippery from the sweat on his hand. He tried to convince himself that it was from the heat. "We…uh…I have…just follow me," he stammered. He reached for her hand and led her to a booth.
Cameron was not ready to let go of his hand when they got there, but she reluctantly pulled away. Her eyebrows rose when she saw the woman behind the table. The sign said "Art on the Beach—Caricatures and Portraits."
House put his hand on her back between her shoulder blades and pushed her to sit down. "We want a portrait of her," he informed the woman as he pointed to Cameron.
The woman nodded as she picked up her brush, but Cameron shook her head. "No."
His frown hid no signs of disappointment. "No?" he repeated. "You don't want it."
Her jaw set, her heart beat furiously, anxiously in her chest. "No, not if you don't do it with me."
House's head bounced from Cameron to the artist. He looked like the pet cat caught with the pet bird's feathers sticking out of its mouth. His bottom lip jutted out as he said, "Okay, but no one will notice you now in the picture. They'll all be stunned by my allure."
Cameron chuckled. "I'm sure they will be," she agreed jokingly. Deep down, she thought, I know I am.
The artist put out her cigarette and finally spoke. "I know I'm painting a portrait and not a caricature, but it helps the process if I know something about you."
House and Cameron looked at each other, afraid of what might slip from their lips. House's face contorted into his mockingly honest guise as he said, "Well, Allison Cameron here likes to cuddle with puppies and visit old grandmothers."
Cameron couldn't help but laugh out loud. Trying to pull her face back into seriousness, she added, "And Gregory House is a very caring doctor that makes house-calls and enjoys pithy and meaningful discussions about monster trucks."
House looked up in thought. "House-calls?" he repeated. "Is that a euphemism for all the hookers I hire?"
The artist blankly stared at their banter. Wow, she thought, these two need to just get it over with and get themselves a piece of—"
"Is that what you were looking for?" Cameron asked, interrupting the woman's thoughts.
She made wide strokes on the canvas with her brush. "Yeah, I think I get it," she replied.
Fifteen minutes later, House paid the woman and took the painting. It showed House with his arm wrapped around Cameron's shoulder. Cameron smile beamed and House had that small, inquisitive, mischievous grin dancing on his lips. The background was a mixed blue and green swirl to bring out both of their sparkling eyes. "It's great," House told the woman. "Thanks."
Cameron thanked her as well and they started making their way back to the buggy. "Thank you, House. The painting is wonderful," she said, her eyes watering at the thought of his caring.
"You're welcome," he said. He then put the painting in the carriage and told the driver to make sure that it got back to the hotel lobby. The old man nodded and went on his way.
"Where is he going?" Cameron questioned worriedly. "How are we going to get back?"
House raised his eyebrows. He again repeated her words, saying, "You tell me."
TBC
