by Dora Hiers
Him.
Gentle and kind. Giving, not taking. His mouth sweet from the strawberries, she craved more. With boldness, she explored his cheeks, grazing her fingertips along the angles of his face, loving the feel of his scratchy whiskers against her palm. Then her fingers moved on to his hair—
With a guttural moan, he broke apart and wrapped his arms around her back. She could feel the powerful restraint he exercised, as he pressed his lips to her forehead with a chaste kiss.
“What just happened?” His voice came out hoarse, charged with emotion.
Something he hadn’t expected? Or wanted?
She’d just kissed Camdon. And totally enjoyed it. Hadn’t wanted it to end, in fact. That’s what happened.
Her job was in jeopardy, but if she managed to hang on to it, he might end up being the city manager, and then what?
What had she done?
She covered her face and groaned, hers from anguish. Not like his. Feeling remorse over being carried away by the passion of the moment.
And, mercy! Hadn’t he said something about a girlfriend when they’d boarded the bus for this trip? How could she have forgotten?
She lurched to her feet, her unsteady limbs threatening to give out on her. She swayed, and he reached—
“Don’t.” She held up her palm.
“Sierra—”
She wagged her head back and forth, slow and painful. All she wanted to do was go home and cry. “Don’t touch me. You shouldn’t…we can’t…”
With one swift, very athletic movement, he bounced to his feet.
She couldn’t let him touch her again, or she was toast. She jerked away from his outstretched hand and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring. “I mean it, Camdon Lambright.”
“Sierra, we need to talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. It was a kiss. That’s all.” A kiss that had totally rocked her world. It blasted the mountain she’d erected around her heart to millions of tiny pieces. She’d never be able to put it back together.
“That’s all?” His voice came out a higher octave than usual. His dark eyebrows practically disappeared into the creases of his forehead.
“Yes. That’s all. End of story. Don’t let it happen again!” With those last words, she fled to the safety of her friends.
But Camdon was her friend.
How did she reconcile that kiss? It surely didn’t feel friendly. At least, not on her end. And she’d made a fool of herself by responding the way she had. Oh, God, what have I done? Have I destroyed the only true and lasting friendship I have ever known? Please don’t let it be so!
Gigantic honey colored leaves crackled under her boots, but she didn’t stop to admire them. Tears, quiet and unwelcome, trickled from burning eyes. A gentle breeze kissed her heat-flamed cheeks but did nothing to cool them or slow her racing heart.
Only when she finally caught sight of the pavilion, did she slow her frantic pace. Some of the seniors still mingled over empty plates, laughing and chatting loudly. More than a dozen elderly fellows hurled horseshoes through the air, the clanging of metal and the thud against dirt matching the clamor going on inside of her.
She forced air in and out of her lungs, willing her pulse back to normal as she scanned the crowd still hanging around the tables, searching for Wilma. Surely her grandmother was hunched over a book by now. She’d packed five of them for the four-day trip, but so far, Sierra hadn’t seen her crack one open, yet.
There. Under the pavilion. But she wasn’t stooped over a book. No. Wilma was huddling skin-close to Monty, a bony hand clinging to his shoulder.
Just then, as if she had a sixth sense, Wilma straightened and turned around.
Sierra swiped a hand across her cheeks, hoping to destroy the evidence of her tears and the remnants of her humiliation, but it was too late.
Wilma’s eyebrows arched, and then narrowed in the next beat. She planted fists on her hips, ready to do battle.
Sierra forced a smile to her unwilling lips and shook her head, sending an unspoken warning. But knowing her grandmother, Wilma wouldn’t pay any heed.
She cleared her throat, inserting as much enthusiasm as she could muster into her voice. “Okay. Time to get this show on the road, folks. Let’s load up.”
Groans filled the air, but her friends complied, good-naturedly ribbing Sierra about being a tough taskmaster as they discarded their trash and filed by toward the bus.
“That was more than just a kiss and you know it.” Camdon’s deep voice rumbled over her shoulder.
She startled and whipped her head around to face him. If he were any closer, their lips would be touching. Again. She jerked a step back.
“We will talk about it.” His expression was dark and unreadable, but determination steeled his jaws.
“All right. But not now.” She caved, quite certain he wouldn’t let it go.
“Fair enough.” His face lightened, and his long legs took him a few feet away. He angled over a shoulder, a wicked smile curving his lips. “I’m looking forward to it.”
He winked and stepped over to the pavilion, scooping up trash as he walked. When he tossed the rest of the trash in the waste receptacle, he moved to stand sentry by the bus, helping folks board and folding walkers.
Even then, she caught his gaze following her as she did a final sweep of the area. How could she avoid him during the rest of the trip? Worse, what would she do when they got home tomorrow?
She took a deep breath. She’d take it a day at a time, hour by hour, minute to minute. She couldn’t worry herself to a frenzy just because of one kiss. One toe-tingling, mind-numbing kiss. But, that’s all it was. A single kiss. It wasn’t the end of the world. Even if it felt like her world had just collapsed.
The bus driver signaled that everybody was on the bus. Camdon waited by the door, all six foot plus of lean muscle. A gentle, caring man who valued faith and family above his job. A kind man who’d taken pains to offer her a private picnic and a few minutes away from the worry over losing her job. Yes. She’d forgotten all about that fear for a few minutes. But in the process, she’d gained another, one that weighed much heavier on her heart.
He’d probably be sitting next to her for the long ride back to the resort. Surely, the scent of strawberries and chicken would still linger on his clothes, and her hands would ache to run through his hair. Like now. God help her, they literally longed to reach up and smooth away the worry etching his eyes. Just great.
With a huff, she stuffed her hands deep into the pockets of her jeans and headed to the bus. She’d endured much worse. It would take every ounce of willpower she could scrounge up, but she could do this.
Besides, Camdon would probably regret kissing her and decide she wasn’t worth the trouble. He’d rent a car to escape for Harrison later this afternoon.
She’d be surprised if he stuck around.
****
Camdon thumbed through the emails on his phone, amazed at how many had accumulated in just the few hours since he’d last checked, but it was a normal workday. Just because he was away from the office didn’t mean business in the city stopped.
His mind wasn’t in it, though. No. His thoughts couldn’t escape the memory of that kiss. Seated next to Sierra on the bus, it didn’t help that subtle reminders drifted his way, faint hints of jasmine and spicy fruit, of fresh outdoors clinging to her hair and the sweet strawberries on her breath. He blew out a frustrated huff and kept scrolling.
She felt something for him. He knew it, could tell it from the way she responded to him, the way her soft lips opened under his in welcome, the way they blossomed into pure ripeness. How her hands curled around his neck and she molded perfectly to his frame. Like they were made for each other.
He’d never seen her with anyone else. And she hadn’t relaxed her “no dating” policy since he’d known her. Her response, even her angry stalk back to the pavilion, meant something. The question was what.
He didn’t kn
ow for certain, but he intended to find out. And, hopefully, in the process, share a few more of those sweet, life-changing kisses.
Who are you kidding, Lambright? She’s ignoring you now. What did you think you were doing? You might have risked a friendship and blown a future for the sake of a few stolen kisses. Why couldn’t you have exercised a bit more patience back at the park?
Because he was an idiot, and ten years was a long time to love somebody without hope that they’d ever return that love. He reached around to rub the strain from the back of his neck.
Buddy’s name popped up in the string of emails, and he forced his attention back to the screen. Another reminder about the deadline to apply for his job. As if he could forget.
But…
If he was the City Manager, he’d have voiced his opinion over the budget cuts more vehemently than Buddy did. Might his argument have swung the votes in the opposite direction? Would that have changed the bleak outlook for the status of Sierra’s job?
Hmmm…
He stole a sideways glance at her. Sierra’s head was bent over a tablet, a curtain of hair draping her face, totally riveted. Or, likely, just trying to avoid talking to him.
Just then she pinched her fingers wide against the screen, enlarging a picture of a house.
Ignoring the nudge that he might be invading her privacy, he scanned the “for sale” ad. Scrunching his cheeks, he squinted, attempting to get the most distance out of his reading glasses. He cleared his throat and tapped the screen with a finger. “That area has the highest crime rate in the city.”
She gasped and peered up at him with wide eyes. Her eyebrows vanished in a fringe of dark as molasses bangs. “Really?”
He nodded.
A frown marred her smooth forehead, but she hit a button and that house disappeared.
He went back to catching up on emails. When another house popped up on Sierra’s screen, his attention diverted again.
A tiny dwelling. Bigger than the ones on wheels, this house was made to stay in one place. Shaker-style shingles wrapped the exterior in a warm grey. With only two windows on the entire front side, a heavy, expensive looking Craftsman door and a large screened in porch jutting from the side made the bungalow look homey and comfortable.
The expansive, well-manicured yard made up for what the dwelling lacked in size. He could see why Sierra was drawn to it. It would make a perfect little cottage for her and Violet, but it wasn’t nearly big enough to accommodate a growing family. There couldn’t possibly be more than two bedrooms squeezed inside that less than thousand square feet space, could there?
He scanned the description. Two bedroom and one bath bungalow on one acre of land.
Okay, so the place did pack in two bedrooms. But how big could they possibly be? She complained now about cramming clothes in her four by two closet. And maintaining an entire acre? How would Sierra take care of that much property? She’d need to invest in a riding lawn mower. But even with that, did she realize how much time that would take away from Violet?
Great opportunity for first time homebuyer.
Buying a house had been a long-time dream of hers. Scraping a hand across his jaw, he leaned closer and focused on the website, trying not to be obvious. Not that she spared him a glance.
He mentally noted the site name, a realtor he knew, and settled back in the seat. Looked like he had some sleuthing to do before dinner.
She bookmarked the house, angled her head sideways and caught him staring. Her smile was genuine and shy before she turned back to her tablet.
The fire that their kiss ignited burned in his chest. He knew one thing. Now that he’d tasted her sweetness, he couldn’t accept going back to being just friends.
He was in it for the forever.
14
“So, do you want to tell me what happened back there?” Wilma came out of the bathroom, her hair wrapped in a towel, turban style, and perched on the edge of Sierra’s bed. A snow-white robe dwarfed her grandmother’s scrawny shoulders.
Sierra glanced up from the magazine she really wasn’t reading. Not when snippets of that kiss kept creeping onto the pages, blurring the words and the pictures until all she could see was Camdon and his tender expression.
“No.” With a sigh, she flipped the magazine closed and tossed it on the bed then planted an elbow on the downy mattress, cradling her chin in a palm.
Wilma’s peppery eyebrows spiked in silent anticipation. Her grandmother didn’t budge from her spot on the bed. Apparently, she intended to wait for an explanation.
“Fine.” She huffed and slid off the other side of the bed. In bare feet, she padded across the carpet to the window and lifted the heavy drape.
Cotton candy pink and purple stripes etched the otherwise blue sky. In the waning daylight, a resort employee headed to the fire pit area to prep it for the evening’s activities. Heaviness burdened her anxious heart, almost more than she could bear. Between possibly losing her job…losing Camdon.
“Camdon kissed me.”
A hand pressed against her shoulder, but she didn’t turn around. Didn’t want her grandmother to witness the turmoil mirrored from her eyes.
“Look at me, ladybug.” Wilma’s tone commanded obedience. Her grandmother hadn’t used that pet name in years.
A tear welled up and spilled over onto her cheek. She turned around, dipping her chin to her chest.
“I was wrong.”
Sierra studied her grandmother, at the regret lining her lips and furrowing her brow. “Wrong about what?”
“All these years...my resentment toward your grandfather spilling over onto you and Violet.”
“But I don’t understand. Grandpa deserted you, threw away twenty-five years of marriage, all because of a—”
“Yes. He did. And he was a jerk about it.” Wilma’s mouth stiffened into a thin line.
Her grandfather had not been secretive about his affair, flaunting his twenty-something mistress in front of the entire family.
Sierra shook her head, remembering the pain that erased all joy from her grandmother’s face when she waved the divorce papers in the air as if it was yesterday. Bitterness spewed from Wilma’s mouth for days and spanned into years afterward.
“But not all men are like that.” Wilma’s firm tone brought her back to the present.
“What about Steve? And my stepfather?”
“They’re at the bottom of the pickle barrel when it comes to the male species, too.” Her grandmother’s expression softened as she squeezed the soft flesh of Sierra’s arms. “I admit, ladybug, that you and I have not had good fortune when it comes to the men in our lives. But we shouldn’t let our experiences skew us from recognizing a good man. Like Camdon. There’s no comparison between him and the others. Am I right?”
Totally. Camdon was night and day different than Violet’s father or Sierra’s stepfather. That’s the only reason she’d allowed him into her life and invited him into their home.
She nodded.
“As much as I gripe about him being underfoot in the house all the time, I know that boy would do anything for you.”
Sierra wouldn’t go that far. He was a friend. Or had been until this afternoon.
“And Monty. Monty’s a good man, too, Sierra. He’s helped me find a little joy in being with the opposite sex again.” Wilma’s thin shoulders lifted with her sigh, and she dropped her arms to her sides. “Well, I’m just sayin’. We can’t compare trash to treasure. Or in this case, a handful of jerks to the ones made of fine gold.”
Sierra sucked in a breath, her grandmother’s change of heart landing like a hard punch to her mid-section. If Wilma was singing such a different tune now, how could she trust her grandmother’s advice?
****
Sierra mashed the bar, pushing the exit door open, and braced herself for the blast of cool air. She tugged her sweater tighter and stepped outside the meeting room, leaving the sounds of fifty men and women, mostly all hard of hearing, each of them
trying to hear and make themselves heard, behind.
She hadn’t really intended to venture out into the chilly night, so she wasn’t really dressed for it. But her elderly friends hadn’t given her much choice.
They’d thwarted her efforts to maintain her distance from Camdon all night. Finally, during a card game, one by one, they rose from their seats, pretending to yawn and declaring an early night. But then, they’d stood around talking.
With a scrunched forehead, Sierra peered over a shoulder through the glass door. Had one of them even disappeared to their room? Didn’t look that way. The hall was still clogged with seniors, laughing and chatting and cackling.
Tired. Right! It was a conspiracy. An all-out mutiny. Just because she’d rejected their offer of a free night, they’d forced her hand. Her sweet friends were trying to give her and Camdon time to themselves. As if she wanted alone time with Camdon. Not! There was safety in numbers.
Gazing up at the stars popping out against an inky black, velvety sky, she made her way to the fire pit, her boots plodding along the hard-packed, semi-frozen ground.
Well, they could take care of themselves tonight, but she wouldn’t be with Camdon, so their hatched plan was all for naught. She rounded the corner, pushed back a stray limb that stuck out into the path a bit too far, and—
“It’s beautiful out tonight, isn’t it?” Camdon’s deep voice rumbled from in front of the glowing fire.
She startled. So much for her strategy to thwart the seniors’ ruse. “W-what are you doing here?”
“I knew you’d eventually end up outside. You would wear out the carpet being cooped up in a tiny hotel room for this long, and it’s way too early for you to go to bed.”
Her jaw dropped. He did know her. Knew that hanging out in a boxy room with only her grandmother for company would drive her insane when this star-studded sky called out to her. And that she’d need time to chill out and unwind before her head hit the pillow.
He patted the cushion next to him. “Come. Sit and relax. You’ve done enough today. After all, you’re not on the clock anymore tonight.”
“I’m always on the clock where they’re concerned.” Her gaze wandered back to the part of the building where she’d left them, but the bushes cloaked her view.