by Dora Hiers
“Hey.” Her sweet face gazed up at him, no evidence that she’d overheard him clouding her expression.
Relief soared through his veins. He peered at the white stickers on the cups and held out the one that said pumpkin. “Pumpkin spice. Just for you.”
Her lips curved in delight, her fingers brushing his as she took the cup. “You’re a lifesaver. Thank you.”
“I have one for Wilma, too.”
“Pumpkin spice?” Sierra’s dark eyebrows shot high on her forehead as she sipped, eyeing him over the rim of the paper cup.
“No. A regular latte for Wilma. She doesn’t seem like a holiday coffee connoisseur.”
Sierra laughed, her free hand circling around his arm to lead him into her room. “You’re right. She’s not, but I’m sure she would have appreciated anything you brought her.”
He wasn’t so sure.
The warmth from her fingers disappeared as she slid the card in the lock and opened the door then practically shoved him into the room.
He sputtered, planting his shoes on the other side of the door, not daring to step farther into the room for fear of what he’d find. “Is she dressed—”
“Wilma, look who I found in the hallway. Camdon, delivering coffee. And guess who the lucky ones are?”
Lucky? He was the blessed one, but maybe he could finally convince her that he might be a worthy catch.
12
Sierra couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful day to spend with some of her best friends. With a bright sun warming her back, even the mild fifty-degree temperature couldn’t diminish the charm of the day. Birds chirped a continual melody amid the sweet sound of seniors’ chatter.
It might be her last full day with them. Sierra tried not to let that thought creep too far in to diminish her peace. No. Best to treasure the time left with them and not worry about tomorrow. Just like Camdon had said.
She set the aluminum tray of potato salad on the picnic table set up buffet-style. Some of the seniors might need some assistance going through the line, but there was enough willing to lend a hand.
Especially Camdon.
His broad shoulders drew her gaze once again. He’d offered a hand in and out of the bus, carted walkers and stowed canes, and had even helped tote all the boxes of food from the bus to the tables.
Now, listening to Monty share a story, Camdon’s dark head bobbed up and down occasionally, and twin dimples flashed from both cheeks. With arms folded across that expansive chest, the cranberry red sweater he wore was the only bright spot in the crowd of seniors, who mostly wore muted or neutral colors today. Odd.
Camdon’s sweater matched the backdrop of autumn, the leaves in the area still vibrant and alive with color. Oranges and yellows, browns and reds fluttered from the sky or lifted from the ground, dancing with the music of the gentle breeze.
No wonder the man kept snagging her attention. It was the colorful sweater. And the way his coal black jeans hung snug against those lean hips. Or maybe it was because every time she stole a quick glance his way, his head turned in her direction, as if he’d been expecting her. Intense, serious eyes held hers, until his lips curved, slow and easy, dazzling her with his smile. As if he knew the wicked things that look was doing to her heart.
And there he was. Smiling at her again.
Her heart tumbled. Her pulse whooshed in her head. The spoon dropped with a thud on the wood table.
“Time to get this show on the road, young lady. We wouldn’t want everything to get cold while you’re gaping at your man over there, now would we?”
Huh? Sierra gave her head a little shake and whipped around to face Wilma, catching her grandmother’s knowing look and smirk.
“I wasn’t gaping…” she sputtered. Because she really couldn’t refute her grandmother. That’s exactly what she’d been doing. “And he isn’t my man.”
One thin salt and pepper eyebrow arched. The smirk remained intact.
Sierra swiveled to call the crowd. “Everybody, let’s eat. Lunch is ready.”
It wouldn’t do any good to argue with Wilma. Not when her grandmother was right. About the gaping part. Not that Camdon was her man by any stretch. But he was her friend, so maybe that’s what she meant.
Wilma separated and handed out paper plates, and Sierra busied herself setting out water bottles along the table. She turned around to fetch more bottles from the cooler and bumped into something hard and warm.
Camdon’s chest. And how exactly did she end up with her cheek pressed against that downy soft sweater, the thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat matching hers?
She breathed in pine and cool outdoors, soap and rosemary, man and nature. All mingled together into this fresh and vibrant, this incredibly—
“What can I do to help?” His deep voice rumbled near the top of her head.
Goosebumps spiked on her arms, and a tremor rocked her body.
Help? Could he help her lungs to function properly? Or convince her rebellious legs to move? Mercy! What was wrong with her?
She jerked back. Her legs tangled together in her haste to get away from the unwelcome emotions rising up from her belly and curling her toes.
He steadied her, saving her from a face-plant in the dirt.
“Um…” She blinked. What was the question? Oh, right. Her gaze skidded down the buffet line, landing on the dragster walker. She pressed the water bottle against her cheek. Maybe that would chill the warmth creeping up her neck. “You can assist Ms. Esther through the line. As soon as I finish up with this, I’ll be right behind you.”
“Got it.” He nodded and spun, his long strides taking him to the middle of the line in seconds. His kind words and gentle smile caused Ms. Esther’s wilted face to soften as he reached in and took the plate from her gnarled hand. With one hand firmly planted on the walker, Ms. Esther reached up to pat Camdon’s shoulder.
Sierra’s pulse stuttered and stalled. She dragged her gaze away from the tender scene and stared up at the towering majestic maples. Some of the higher, more exposed branches clacked together with the slight breeze. She willed herself to breathe deeper, to calm the racing of her heart, as a butter yellow leaf fluttered from the sky and landed on her cheek. Smiling, she plucked it off and returned to her task.
A beautiful day. Surrounded by friends. Who could ask for anything more?
****
How could he ask for anything more?
Camdon inhaled the wonderful smells of autumn. Pine and burning wood from nearby fireplaces. But the scent he cherished most was the remnant of jasmine and mandarin that clung to his sweater. Sierra’s fragrance.
Yep. The day couldn’t be any more perfect.
Dried leaves crackled as Camdon made his way back to the bus to retrieve the items he’d tucked into an out-of-the-way spot earlier. He scooped up the wicker basket and the soft blanket, indecision and fear holding him hostage momentarily.
Would Sierra like his surprise? Or would she be too embarrassed to join him? What would he do if she didn’t? He hadn’t devised a plan B.
Just stick with the program, Lambright. God didn’t bring you all this way to leave you hanging on your own. He’s got your back.
He retraced his steps to the picnic area just as Sierra picked up a plate. He curled an arm around her waist and leaned in so close her hair tickled his jaw. “Care to join me for a private lunch?”
She jerked, her eyebrows arching. Her gaze dropped to his hand, to the pretty basket the resort dining room had made especially for them at his request.
“Um…” She swiveled to take in the crowded tables under the large wooden canopy, the animated chatter and gesturing hands.
Why hadn’t he thought about asking someone to help with the seniors while they ate? Of course, Sierra would be worried about them. Dismay swelled in his gut.
Monty sauntered by. He stopped in front of the cooler and reached for a water bottle. His gaze snagged on the basket dangling from Camdon’s hand, and the old man grinned. “Y
ou guys going on a private picnic?”
“That was the plan.” So much for his idea. He should have thought everything through a little more thoroughly.
Monty’s wise eyes drifted back to Sierra. “No worries, little lady. Your grandmother and I will see that everybody’s taken care of. You and your young man go off and enjoy your lunch.”
A silent song of praise lifted Camdon’s heart. He made a mental note to catch up with Monty later and thank him privately. For now, he nodded. “Thanks, Monty. I appreciate that.”
“We all could use a little time away from the crowd every now and again.” He focused on Sierra, as if trying to convey an unspoken message in his words.
Apparently satisfied that he’d gotten his meaning across, Monty flicked his grey head once and turned around, making his way back to Wilma’s side. He handed Wilma the water bottle and pointed in their direction, but his words got lost in the crowd.
“What do you say, Sierra? Care to join me?” Camdon held his breath.
Sierra was still staring at Monty and her grandmother. She shook her head slightly and clamped her jaw, then turned to face him. With eyes glittering like simmering emeralds, her lips held a genuine smile. “Sure. Do we need plates and bottled water?”
“No. Have it all covered.”
“Of course, you do.” She dropped the paper plate back on the stack.
He draped an arm around her back and guided her away from the crowded pavilion, ignoring the ooh’s and ahh’s that followed them, toward the secluded spot he’d scoped out a few minutes ago.
They reached the most scenic spot in the park, a quiet, grassy knoll overlooking a peaceful pasture. Separated by fencing, horses and cows grazed in the distance, their large bodies moving along at a snail’s pace. The loud chatter from their group diminished to a hum, background noise that he was sure sounded like music to Sierra and should keep her from worrying.
Best of all? The spot was private, away from inquisitive senior eyes. A place they could enjoy each other’s company, away from the city and their respective jobs, if only for a few minutes. What he wouldn’t give for this time alone to stretch into forever.
“Nice.”
“I’m glad you think so. It took a little sleuthing on my part to find the perfect spot.”
The smile slid into a grin. “Well, you chose well. And this is such a pleasant surprise. I didn’t know you had it in you, Lambright.”
“There’s a lot more to me than meets the eye, Danby.” He slanted a sideways glance at her, challenge edging his voice.
The slow rise of her dark-as-midnight eyebrows satisfied him. He set the basket down and flicked the thick fabric out, watching it flutter until it settled on the dry grass. He smoothed out some crinkles, and then swept his arm through the air in an elaborate flourish, gesturing for her to sit. “After you, milady.”
“Why, thank you, kind sir.” She played along, curtsying before curling her legs under her rump as she settled on the blanket.
He lowered himself to the ground an arm’s width away from Sierra. Close enough to catch an occasional whiff of her subtle, fresh fragrance but far enough that he wouldn’t be tempted to touch her.
Yeah, right! He’d have to move to the opposite end of the park, and he’d still be reaching for her. He tugged the basket of goodies between them. There. That was better.
“What did our lovely kitchen staff pack for us?” He reached in and pulled out a couple of wrapped sandwiches. He dangled them in front of her, the tantalizing smell of chicken wafting through the air between them. “Chicken croissants.”
Sierra swiped them out of his hand and set them on the blanket. “Bring it on, Lambright.”
His pulse rocketed at her unintentional flirting. He focused on the contents of the basket, trying to corral the racing of his heart. To disregard the voice yammering in his head that it was too late to move past her “just friends” barrier. That the window had closed for him to reveal his feelings.
God’s timing is always perfect. Trust Him.
He took a deep breath and pulled out two plastic bags. “Plump strawberries and wedges of sharp cheddar.”
“Oh, yum!” Her fingers brushed his, kindling a spark to life in his chest, as she snatched them out of his hand and added them to the growing mound on the blanket. Excitement shimmered from her eyes, and Lord help him, his gaze strayed to her lips, perfectly red and full, appearing as sweet and luscious as the strawberries.
He swallowed the rush of emotion that threatened to derail his plan. The plan was simple. To enjoy a leisurely lunch and then, if things went well, maybe share a kiss or two. How would he ever make it through lunch if she kept looking at him like that?
Lord, a little help here please? I don’t want to scare her off and undo everything You’ve accomplished. He gulped, calling on all the restraint and discipline he could muster.
“Well, are we going to eat or just sit here enjoying the view?” Her amused voice startled him.
“Both?” He handed her a plate. Although he teased, if given a choice, he would prefer to sit there and enjoy the view. The view of her.
“That won’t be hard.”
Hard. Hard was holding back his feelings for over a decade. Hard was restraining the constant yearning to pull her into his arms and declare his love. But after this long as friends, would she stomp all over his heart with her “no dating” policy?
“Everything looks wonderful, Camdon. Thank you for this.” With her palms flat on the blanket, she leveled her gaze at him, her expression serious, her eyes wide.
Their eyes locked and held until she blinked and swallowed then shifted to stare at the landscape.
“Will you pray with me?” He held out his hand.
“Sure.” She scooted closer to him. Her hand felt so soft, so tender, inside his bigger one.
An urge to protect her swelled in him. Lord, I’d do anything for the pleasure of taking care of this sweet woman for the rest of my life. Help her to see that I’m not like the other men in her life. That I’d never do anything to hurt her or Violet.
Aloud, he uttered other words, a blessing on the food and their time together, then he squeezed her fingers and reluctantly released her hand.
They chewed their sandwiches in comfortable silence, the constant drone of the seniors’ voices and the occasional lowing of the cattle the only sounds breaking the stillness. That, and the loud thumping of his heart hammering against his chest.
13
“This was so sweet of you, Camdon. These strawberries are sooo good.” Sierra licked the sticky juice from her fingers.
He dipped his head and mumbled his agreement, practically tossed the remnants into the basket and closed the lid.
She fiddled with a stem of grass, rolling it between her fingers, still in shock that her best friend had done this for her. Not that Camdon wasn’t sweet. It just wasn’t like him. This picnic lunch almost seemed…
Romantic. Yeah. That was it. And that’s definitely not what they were. Romantic.
She scoffed at herself and let the wind steal the blade of grass from her palm.
A longing, at first just a gentle whisper, rippled through her spirit. But it built up steam, intensifying into a powerful crescendo. Her lashes fluttered closed as she gave in to the roar.
What would it be like to go through life with a soulmate? Someone she could share her dreams and ambitions, her successes and failures, her days and her nights. Someone she could trust with her life. Someone who loved Violet like his own flesh and blood.
Fingers nudged her chin around.
She opened her eyes.
“What’s with the sad face?”
Someone like Camdon. Her fingers suddenly craved to caress his cheek, to graze her knuckles along his jaw. Her pulse stuttered, practically quit on her.
This was Camdon. Her best friend. What was she thinking?
She shook her head but that didn’t quell the urge. So she stuffed her hands under her legs. “Life
gets a little lonely sometimes.”
“Yes. It does.”
“Do you ever long for a soulmate, Camdon?”
He reached up to touch the loose strands of hair cloaking her eyes. His fingers lingered there before tucking her hair behind her ear, his gaze warm and tender as he regarded her.
Great. Now he’d see everything on her face. The longing, best left locked away. The yearning for a home and family, for a daddy for Violet.
He jerked his head around to stare off into the distance. His voice came out soft. “I do.”
Her breath snagged. Was he thinking of someone in particular?
“Someone to share everything with. Days and nights. Joys and sorrows. To triumph when we reach dreams and milestones. Two lives made stronger because they’re one.” His gaze drifted back to her, his expression intense, his back straight and strong.
“Exactly.” That was it. He’d nailed it perfectly.
She swallowed.
His eyes fixed on her mouth and stayed. One of his palms flattened against the blanket, the other swung around to land lightly on her shoulder, and he leaned into her personal space. He smelled of strawberries and sweetness, pine and man. “Friends for a lifetime.”
She sucked in a breath and held it.
His fingers curled around her neck, sending goose bumps to prickle up and down her arms. “But more than that, lovers with a purpose. Soulmates for eternity.”
Incredibly long and dark lashes closed over his cheeks, shutting out those cinnamon flakes that glimmered from his forest green eyes. His head drifted closer, his fingers warm and gentle around her neck. Wait…was he about to kiss her?
What was she supposed to do? Even after his lips met hers, teasing hers apart, she kept her eyes open, so rusty were her kissing skills.
He didn’t seem to mind. He took his time, threading his fingers through her hair, while his other hand wrapped around her waist, drawing them together, nestling her hips against his. His kiss wasn’t like anything she remembered from her teen years. Camdon’s kiss was just like…