“Believe me. It beats sitting with my cousins,” she whispered back. “Oh, and you can put me down now.”
Gently, he eased her out of his arms, and she took a few steps with every eyeball, except for Leo’s, trained on her feet.
“All good with the ankle,” she said, taking Jake’s hand and leading him through the maze of tables to the one littered with half-eaten bowls of oatmeal and torn open mini boxes of cereal.
The hum of table conversations resumed as she and Jake settled into their seats.
“Aunt Nat! Aunt Nat!” the kids cried, abandoning their chairs to cluster around her.
“Wow, you guys have gotten big,” she said, staring at six smiling faces. “Jake, meet Annabelle, age six, Finn who’s twelve, Maddie and Josie, our nine-year-olds, and the twins, Toby and Tucker, who just turned seven. Did I get that right?”
“Yep, but I’m four minutes older than Tuck,” Toby replied with a toothy grin.
Jake glanced around wide-eyed as if rebel forces were invading. “Are these all your nieces and nephews?”
She shook her head. “Technically, I’m not their aunt. I don’t have any siblings, so I don’t have any official nieces or nephews. These are some of my cousins’ kids. But it’s easier for them to call me Aunt Natalie instead of first cousin once removed, Natalie,” she answered as a tiny body wiggled its way onto her lap.
“This is the table for the six-to twelve-year-olds, Uncle Jake,” her lap inhabitant, Annabelle Woolwich, announced proudly with a milk mustache.
“Here, Uncle Jake! You can have a box of Frosted Flakes. Mimi and Poppy said we can have sugar cereal this week!” Tucker exclaimed, shaking the box a few inches from Jake’s face, but the man didn’t move.
“Thanks, Tuck,” she said, intercepting the cereal box meant for a glazed-over Jake.
“All right, guys! Why don’t you finish your breakfast while I talk with Jake for a second?”
The children scrambled back to their seats, and she turned to her overwhelmed date.
“Are you breathing?”
The man had gone rigid and sat there, blinking like a deer caught in a pair of headlights. A pretty standard response after one’s first encounter with the entire Woolwich clan. Plus, their chaotic, mad dash start to the day hadn’t helped either.
“My family can be…a lot,” she offered
“Yeah.”
“Here’s Woolwich 101. Mimi and Poppy are what the great-grandkids call my grandparents.”
Jake nodded as Annabelle opened his box of cereal and poured it into a bowl along with a splash of milk. She handed him a spoon, and he accepted it robotically.
“My grandparents are big on stages and phases. The six-to-twelve table is a big step up from dining with your parents to sitting with the kids for meals. The thirteen-to fifteen-year-olds are allowed to sit wherever they want and roam around camp on their own.”
“What about the older kids?” Jake asked through a bite of cereal.
She gestured with her chin a few tables over to where a group of older teens with bedhead and their gazes all pointed toward their laps sat silently.
“They’re probably doing Snapchat or snap cat. Whatever it is, they’re glued to their phones. I asked my grandpa if he minded that they barely made a peep or socialized with anyone.”
Jake spooned up another bite. “What did he say?”
She grinned. “He asked if I could remember saying anything worth hearing when I was that age. I couldn’t.”
Jake chuckled. “Makes sense. Those are some crazy years.”
“Yeah, I was pretty awkward during that time in my life,” she offered.
“I was pretty angry,” he replied into his bowl of half-eaten cereal.
Angry?
From his cool demeanor and take-charge attitude, she’d pictured him as someone who’d always had it together. She chose a bowl of oatmeal off a large tray in the center of the table and took a bite, glancing over at her fake boyfriend.
Was there more to him? That was a stupid question. There had to be. Everyone had a past. This Jake just seemed so sure of who he was. She was twenty-eight and flailing from job to job and Jake to Jake. He seemed so solid. She closed her eyes, remembering the tenderness in his gaze before they made love and the strange recognition that passed between them as he worked her body into a frenzy. It was like kissing someone from a past life.
And the sex.
A delicious tingle danced through her body. On a scale of one to ten, she was a solid two when it came to the intimacy department. She’d spent so much energy trying to figure out what her Jake du jour wanted that she’d never focused on herself. But last night, in her fake boyfriend’s arms, she couldn’t tell where he began and where she ended. And his lips. Just the thought of kissing him had her clenching her core muscles.
And that brought her to his cock. His perfect, thick, hard…
“Natalie?” came a deep voice.
She startled from her daydream and gasped. “I wasn’t thinking about cock.” She glanced around to find her grandfather frowning and every person, including the owner of the cock she’d been fantasizing about, staring at her.
“Tails,” she threw out immediately. “Cocktails,” she added, then grabbed a kid-sized cup of apple juice and knocked it back, hoping she hadn’t turned completely beet-red from mortification.
“It’s eight thirty in the morning, Nat,” her grandfather replied, his frown still in place while her grandmother stood silently, lips pressed together, holding back a grin.
“But it’s got to be five o’clock somewhere,” she parried back, trying to be funny.
Jesus! When would she learn? She wasn’t funny!
But an amused little snort from Jake made her feel like less of an idiot. Maybe she was funny, or maybe he was laughing at her? Oh, God! What did it matter?
She glanced over at him, and he tossed her a wink.
The warmth that had flooded her chest earlier was back. Funny. He thought she was funny.
“Natalie, are you all right?” her grandmother asked from the front of the room.
“I’m fine. Maybe a bit jet lagged.”
Her grandfather barked out a cough, then crossed his arms. “What is your answer? Yes or no?”
She watched the man closely, and a pang of worry set in. His bright eyes weren’t as intense, and he’d lost a bit of weight since she’d last seen him.
Jake leaned in. “While you were meditating back there, they asked if we’d lead the kids’ activities this week.”
“Of course, I…we’d,” she glanced at Jake. “We’d be happy to.”
The children at the table clapped and cheered their approval when she felt Jake back at her ear.
“What does that mean?”
She nudged him with her shoulder. “It means that we aren’t doing dishes or cleaning the latrine. Everyone gets assigned a job at camp.”
“Good call on the kids’ stuff,” he replied with a grimace as her grandpa began addressing the group.
“Bev and I would like to thank everyone for joining us for our fiftieth anniversary. We’ve got a schedule full of activities planned with everything culminating on Woolwich Island for our vow renewals,” her grandpa said, then turned to her grandmother. “You’ve put up with me for forty-nine more years than I deserved.”
“Try forty-nine and a half,” her grandmother replied with a sly grin.
Her grandparents shared a look—the same look she’d loved since she was a little girl. With just a glance, she’d never seen two people more in tune with one another. She’d made a game of it as a girl, observing them closely and counting each gentle nod and every sweet twist of her grandfather’s lips when he caught her grandmother’s eye. She’d collected these tender moments over the years, tucking them safely away, all the time hoping that, one day, she’d find a special person who looked at her the way her grandfather looked at her grandmother. But with that damn curse and a string of terrible Jakes, what were the cha
nces?
“Here, you can use this,” Jake said, breaking into her thoughts and handing her a napkin.
“Why do you think I need that?” she asked.
His gaze softened. “Because you’re crying.”
She brushed her fingertips across her cheeks, then took the offered napkin and blotted beneath her eyes. “Sorry, my grandparents are so…”
He cupped her face in his hand and wiped a tear away with his thumb. “Yeah, I can tell,” he whispered with a faraway look in his eyes. The moment hung there, sweet and tender, but as quickly as it began, it ended when Jake pulled his hand away as if he’d touched a hot stove.
What was going on between them?
That was a stupid question because she knew the answer. Nothing. This was all a big con. Too bad her heart, her silly heart, begged to differ. But with this Jake, she’d have to rely on her head if she wanted to protect her heart. With her resolve intact, she steadied herself and focused on her grandpa’s speech.
“We’re here to celebrate family and friendship. Everyone in this room has a connection to Camp Woolwich. But even without the cabins or the lodge or the boats and the waterfront, our connection to each other will always live on. Our memories and the stories we tell are as constant as the ocean and just as everlasting.”
The breath caught in her throat. Again, another strange veiled reference to change. She stared at her grandparents as they continued to welcome guests and muse about their fifty years together, raising a family and running Camp Woolwich—something that Jake must find horribly dull. But when she’d glanced over at him, he seemed riveted, soaking in every word.
Was he that good at pretending?
She balled up the napkin and sighed. She’d try to find a quiet moment to speak with her grandparents, away from her cousins, to get some answers. But until then, she could pretend she had it all together—at least, partially together—with Jake. Her last Jake. No, he wasn’t hers, but boy, did she feel like she was his last night and this morning with his—
“Aunt Nat! Are you ready?” the twins Toby and Tucker asked in unison.
She startled. The dining hall was near empty. “Am I what?”
“You were doing that thing again,” Jake said, biting back a grin.
“What thing?”
His cheeks grew pink. “Zoning out. At least this time, you didn’t scream—”
“Okay,” she said with a clap of her hands, cutting off her fake boyfriend. “Who’s ready for a little outdoor art?”
“Outdoor art? You can’t do art outside. At school, we do art at a table,” Finn remarked.
She waved the children in. “I’ve got a secret to tell you. You can do art anywhere.”
“Anywhere?” Annabelle asked, wide-eyed.
Nat tapped the little girl’s nose. “Anywhere.”
“On the moon?” Finn pressed with a sour expression, but she wasn’t surprised to find the boy acting cross. The oldest children at the kids’ table always felt like they were stuck with a bunch of babies.
She scratched her head, pretending to be stumped, then gasped. “I’ve got it! You could sprinkle moon dust on drawing paper or make rubbings of astronaut footprints.”
The boy pursed his lips. “Yeah, I guess that would work.”
“Aunt Nat, can we take the canoes or even sail over to the island?” Josie asked.
“The island? Is that what your grandfather was talking about?” Jake asked, his complexion turning from a healthy tan to a sickly dishwater gray.
She watched him closely. “Yes, Woolwich Island. It’s across from the cove. It’s a small island my family uses and sometimes rents out for weddings and events. It’s only accessible by water.” She pointed out the window that looked out onto the waterfront. “You can see it right there. It doesn’t take long to get to.”
Jake swallowed hard, the muscles of his throat constricting.
Something about the island had set him off, and she couldn’t risk the guy picking up and bolting. To be fake-dumped at a family gathering would be worse than if she’d shown up with no boyfriend at all.
She turned to the children. “How about we explore the trails around camp?”
“Can we take the one with all the good climbing trees?” Tucker asked.
“Sure,” she answered, keeping a considerably less pale Jake in the corner of her eye. “Now, you’ve got two minutes to find the art basket. If I remember right, Mimi keeps it in the lodge next to the art room. Your job is to find it and then meet Jake and me at the flagpole.” She glanced at her watch. “Ready, set, go!” she called, and the children ran out of the dining hall in a tangle of whoops and elbows.
The screen door banged shut, and she touched Jake’s arm. “Are you okay?”
He shot a glance toward the cove. “I don’t do water.”
“Do you not know how to swim?”
“I can swim. I just…” he trailed off.
“That’s okay. We all have our things. I don’t do Jakes anymore,” she supplied, trying again to be funny, then immediately felt her cheeks heat.
He cocked his head to the side, and the hint of a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as the color returned to his chiseled face.
She cringed. “I mean, I’m not going to date Jakes, and I guess that also means I shouldn’t be doing them either.” She stopped talking and covered her face with her hands. “I must sound like an idiot.”
“The last thing I’d call you, Natalie, is an idiot,” Jake replied as two warm hands rested on top of hers, then gently proceeded to uncover her face.
He threaded their fingers together, and she held his gaze as her pulse kicked up. All it took was one touch from this man, and her heart edged out her head by a landslide.
What was this pull between them? This crazy connection that made her body buzz with anticipation.
He stared down at her, looking as confused as she felt. “It’s hard to believe that this time yesterday, we hadn’t even met.”
“We’re on camp time. An hour here is like a day in the real world. At least, that’s how it always felt for me. This place is like stepping into an alternate universe where time stands still and, at the same time, seems to go by at the speed of light. You experience life more intensely here. When I was a girl, I’d imagine that I was living inside a work of art—some painting of a far-off, magical place.”
“Like being under a spell?” he questioned, leaning in as she pressed up onto her tiptoes.
She nodded as every cell in her body begged to get closer to Jake.
He released her hands and cupped her face. “Your eyes are the exact color of the deepest parts of the water. I always remembered that color. The canopy of green that shimmered in the distance. The vividness. The depth.”
No Jake—no, anybody—had ever said anything like that to her before. Was he pretending, simply playing the part of a caring boyfriend? It made no sense to do it now. No one was here. It was only the two of them. Alone.
He slid one hand from her face and trailed his fingertips down her neck, leaving a path of goose bumps as his hand came to rest on her shoulder. His thumb brushed past her collarbone, and a dreamy familiarity washed over her.
“I shouldn’t want to kiss you this much,” he said on a tight exhale.
“I shouldn’t want you to kiss me,” she whispered back.
His gaze darkened, and she gripped the fabric of his shirt as his lips hovered a breath away from hers when a chorus of giggles burst their almost-kiss bubble.
She gasped and pulled back to see a frowning Finn flanked by Tucker and Toby, both covering their eyes, as the trio of little girls giggled and squeaked with excitement.
“Do you have the art basket?” she asked, doing her best to recover from that intense almost-kiss.
Finn held up the old wicker case with a corner of drawing paper hanging out of the opening.
“Then we should go,” she answered, sharing a quick look with Jake as the children headed for the trail leading
away from camp and into the thick foliage.
He held the door for her, and they walked in silence, several paces behind the children.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you,” he said with his hands in his pockets.
She stared ahead, needing to collect herself and to remember that he wasn’t her Jake. She raised her chin. “It’s okay. Like I said, things feel more powerful here. It’s part of the—”
“Magic,” he supplied.
She nodded as they followed the dirt path into the heart of the woods, then glanced up at him. The softness in his expression had reverted to the stone-faced man she’d met at the airport.
“What do you do when you’re not pretending to be somebody’s boyfriend?” she asked, hoping to ease the tension.
“I’m in commercial real estate.”
“You build things?” she asked.
“Yes,” he answered, his voice void of emotion and his gaze trained on the path.
This Jake didn’t seem keen on sharing.
“Are you from Colorado?” she pressed, grasping for something benign for them to talk about.
“No.”
“Then, where?” she chimed.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Michigan.”
“Is your family still there?”
“No.”
“Well, where are they now?” she tried.
This was going nowhere fast. Maybe he was a serial killer. They walked a few more paces when he broke the silence.
“How big is the camp?”
“Like acreage?” she asked, grateful for some shred of conversation.
“Yeah.”
“It’s pretty big. The camp stretches from the cove up the coast where it meets the Atlantic. I think my grandparents own almost five hundred acres, and then there’s a nature preserve that surrounds it, so it feels like there are woods and trees and wildlife for miles.”
“Hmm,” he answered as if he were ticking off a box.
“My grandfather won the land in a card game,” she added—a fact that usually intrigued people.
Jake glanced over at her. “Really?”
“It was a long time ago in Boston. He won the land from some guy, and then he and my grandma got married here the very next day.”
The Kiss Keeper Page 10