by Dora Hiers
His shoulder nestled against the doorframe, his arms crossed, the stiffly pressed shirt clinging to that massive chest, tapering to lean hips and legs that went on forever. She ripped her gaze up. A spark lit his eyes and a smile curved his lips.
Oh yeah. She was in trouble tonight. Wilma had better get home. Fast.
She turned back around and busied herself with pulling mugs and plates down from the cabinet and the pie from the fridge.
“I applied for the City Manager’s position this afternoon.” The softly spoken words came from right behind her. How had she not heard him sneak up like that?
She pivoted, barely avoided bumping into his chest. He reached around her to place a fork on each plate.
She. Didn’t. Breathe.
When he moved, she let out her breath. But he was such a giant in their small kitchen, normal lung function proved futile.
“I’m surprised you waited so long.” She turned her back to him and poured the coffee. Steeling herself, she pivoted, holding the mugs with a tight grip. Steam spiraled from the ebony brew.
He took the mugs from her and set them down. Then he pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit. He joined her at the table. “I wanted to pray about it. Make sure I was doing the right thing for the people who matter most in my life.”
She nodded, swallowing a bite of the coconut and custard treat. “Your mom and Remi were okay with it then?”
He huffed. A tiny flicker of annoyance flitted across his face before he averted his gaze. When he looked up, his face revealed something else. Some emotion she wasn’t sure she was ready to tap.
Fear scuttled into her belly.
He hadn’t picked up his fork, yet. He covered her hand with his, his touch warm and tender. “You matter, Sierra. You and Violet.”
The front door opened and closed, and footsteps clomped against the wood floor in the family room. Wilma was home. Thank You, God.
She dug her hand out from under his and lifted the ceramic mug to her lips, peering at him over the rim of the cup, through the haze of the steam.
Camdon stood and peered around the doorway. “Hey, Wilma. You look absolutely radiant tonight. Love agrees with you.” He’d crossed his arms over his chest again, and his smile, even though Sierra only caught the profiled version, was enough to send her heart into overdrive.
He cared enough to verify that it was truly Wilma who had entered the house. It was just like him to make sure she was safe. Just like him to be kind to her grandmother when Wilma always tended to be cranky toward him. Just like him to set his goals and ambitions aside to ensure his loved ones were taken care of.
And she’d thrown his profession of love back in his face. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she let go of her past and step forward into a future? A future that included Camdon.
“Thank you, Camdon. I’m not sure if it’s love, yet. Time will tell, I guess,” Wilma drawled.
Time would tell. Camdon had waited ten years for her to come around. How much longer was he willing to wait? How much longer would she need to acknowledge that she loved him?
Sierra slid some stray hair back from her eyes, the frustration of it all suddenly overwhelming her. “Want a piece of pie, Grandma?”
Wilma waved a hand. “No, thanks. I’m headed to bed. See you in the morning.” She flashed a mock glare at Camdon. “I’d better not see you in the morning, young man.”
“Grandma!” Sierra protested, but Camdon just chuckled as Wilma’s scrawny hips flounced down the hallway.
“She’s right. It’s late. I should go.”
Sierra scooted back from the table and followed him to the door. She wasn’t ready for the enchanting evening to end.
He tugged his suit jacket off the coat rack and slid it over his arms. When he turned around, she pressed her palms against his chest, her heart picking up speed at the rapid thump of his heart.
His irises darkened. Passion flickered to life in the slight flaring of his nostrils. He took hold of her forearms, his touch gentle as he tugged her palms away from his chest and dragged them down to his side, lacing their fingers together. A ragged breath escaped his throat, and he dipped his forehead to hers. “Sierra, you’re making me wish for things that may never come true.”
“What if they could?” Did she really believe that? Was it time to reach for the stars and see if they might?
She touched her lips to his, their kiss gentle and feather light until he deepened the kiss. A tremor ran the length of her body, but not from cold. More from years of built up emotions, from holding back on love. Was a lasting love really possible for them?
All too soon, he dipped his chin to rest on her head. How had she never felt this soul-deep connection with him before? As if they were made for each other.
“This scares me.” A lump settled in her throat, and she couldn’t work it down.
He pulled her back to look into her eyes. “It’s all right, sweetheart. We’ll find our way. Just give us a chance. I promise I’ll never hurt you.”
With everything in her, she wanted to love him like he deserved. But what if she couldn’t? What if she wasn’t made for love?
20
Sierra stuck her head in the fridge, rooting around for a bottle of water. She tugged one out and turned around. Nudging her hip against the counter, she unscrewed the cap and took a long swig. She wasn’t running in the 5k Run or Walk for Veterans event today, but she wanted to hydrate. She’d grab a cup of decaf coffee at the event to keep her warm.
“How was your date last night, Grandma?” Violet scooped a spoonful of cereal into her mouth.
Wilma glanced up from her book. She folded the top of the page and flipped the book over on the table. “Very nice. How about yours?”
“Absolutely delightful.” Another bite of cereal and more chewing ensued.
Wilma arched her peppered eyebrows, her gaze flashing to Sierra briefly before settling again on Violet. “So your date treated you right?”
Sierra studied her daughter’s expression. Violet’s response was important to her, and she didn’t want to miss a nuance.
“Oh, yeah. Camdon knows how to make a girl feel special. That’s how I felt last night. Like I was the most beautiful girl at the ball.” Violet bounced out of the chair and swirled around the kitchen, pretending to hold her gown up as if she were at a ball. Then, she flung herself back into the chair and flashed an impish look at Sierra. “I don’t know why some woman hasn’t snapped him up long before now. That man is definitely a keeper.”
Sierra’s throat went dry. She tipped the bottle and downed the rest of the cool liquid.
“Maybe he hasn’t met the right woman, yet.” Wilma countered, shooting a pointed look at Sierra.
Was this gang up on Sierra morning? She hadn’t even had a chance to process last night’s toe-tingling, mind-blowing encounter herself, yet. She surely didn’t want to dissect it with her daughter and grandmother. She massaged her neck.
“Oh, I think he has,” Violet countered. Her softly spoken words made Sierra whip her head around to stare at her.
Violet returned the stare. Was that determination on her daughter’s face…or anger?
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Shaking her head, she tugged it out, grateful for the interruption.
Good morning, sweetheart. You running or working today? Camdon’s text popped up on her screen.
Working. You? She texted back.
Running. Want a ride?
Sure.
OK. Be there in a few. Tell Violet to bundle up. It’s FRIGID outside.
Sierra glanced at her daughter. Violet was already dressed in workout pants and a long-sleeved shirt.
She’s ready. Will I see you at the finish line?
That’s where you’ll be, right?
Smiling, she tapped out a response. Of course. With my latte. Want one?
Nah. My reward will be seeing your smiling face when I cross that line.
Aww. That’s so sweet.
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“Look at Mom. Texting and smiling. Must be from Camdon.”
Grinning, Sierra slid her phone back in her pocket and looked up. “So, you’re running with Camdon today?”
“Yes. He invited me last night.”
“That was nice.”
“Yeah, well, he’s a nice guy. You should have heard him last night. He sounded just like my dad.”
“W-what?” Sierra swallowed then coughed, almost choking on the water. Wilma’s head whipped between Sierra and Violet.
Violet rinsed her bowl out in the sink. “He asked me about Wyatt. And he said things that a dad would say. I think.”
Oh.
“Mom, what would you say if Wyatt asked me to go out with him?”
“Out?” The one word squeaked out. Her forehead felt hot. Was she coming down with a fever? She pressed the cold water bottle to her cheek.
“Yeah. You know. Like to a movie or something.”
“A movie?” Or something. Sierra didn’t like the ‘or something.’ She licked her lips.
Only thirteen, and Violet was already asking to date. That spelled trouble.
“You’re kind of young yet, Violet.”
Violet flicked her head to the side. Her dark hair covered half her face.
Oh, mercy! Her daughter was a younger Sierra, and that terrified her! She’d made her share of mistakes, and she surely didn’t want Violet repeating any of them. She gulped, remembering Camdon’s offer. “What if Camdon and I took you and Wyatt out to dinner? We could get to know him better. That way we’d—” since when had they become a we? “—feel more comfortable discussing this.” Out of the corner of her eyes, Sierra saw Wilma’s head nod in approval. She blew out a breath.
“Dinner? With you and Camdon?” Violet parked her hip against the sink and tapped a finger against her mouth.
Sierra nodded, her grip tightening around the water bottle as she waited for Violet’s response.
“Sounds like a plan.” Violet sashayed to the door and glanced over a shoulder. A sly smile lit her face, as if she’d won more than just a single battle with her mother, more like the entire war. “A dinner date with some of my favorite people. Sock it to me, baby.”
****
Sierra winced when a blast of wintry air hit her in the face. She waved Camdon in and closed the door. “Mercy! You weren’t kidding about it being cold outside. I think I need more layers.”
“This will warm you up. And if it doesn’t, I know something else that will.” Camdon grinned.
Warmth crept up her neck and cheeks. Maybe she really was coming down with something.
He extended a cup holder. “Pumpkin spice for you. A regular latte for Wilma, and a hot chocolate for my running partner.”
“Hey, I told you I’m more of a walking partner.” Violet’s athletic shoes clomped across the hardwood behind her. She stopped next to Sierra and tugged the cup marked “hot chocolate” out of the container. “Thank you.”
“Only when you run out of juice. That was the deal, remember? You have to beat your mom’s old time.” Camdon grinned.
“Hey, wait a minute! How did I get dragged into this?” She glared at the duo as she took the pumpkin spice latte from the container.
“Ten four.” Violet giggled and took the holder. “I’ll take this one to Grandma. To be continued.”
Sierra’s gaze followed her daughter as she disappeared into the kitchen. She gave her head a little shake, smiling. “Never a boring moment.”
“Simple moments to cherish, to help you through the tougher times.” His knuckles grazed her cheek. “Good morning, sweetheart.”
She lifted her face for his kiss. It was gentle, undemanding, and sweet. But over entirely too soon.
“Hmm. I might need a little more motivation to venture outside.” She coiled her arms around his neck and puckered her lips.
He chuckled. “Oh, I can do motivation.”
She smiled as his lips met hers for another kiss. He took his time, oh, did he take his sweet time. When he finally pulled back, she purred like a contented cat.
Her lashes fluttered open, and their gazes collided. Nutmeg speckles gleamed with mischief from his forest green eyes. “Was that enough motivation or do you need more?”
Her eyebrows hiked high on her forehead. “Are you toying with me, Camdon Lambright? Because I could be totally content to snuggle on that couch over there all day and never leave the house.”
“Woman—”
“Are we ready? Or are you guys going to stand there all day kissing each other?” Violet suddenly appeared next to them.
Sierra jumped. She hadn’t even heard Violet enter the room.
“We were waiting on you.” Camdon grinned.
“Right.” Violet drawled the single word as she pulled on a sweater. Camdon helped her with the sleeves and then turned and did the same for Sierra.
“Hey, did Mom mention our date yet?”
Camdon swiveled Sierra to face him, his dark eyebrows arched.
“I hadn’t gotten around to it, yet.” Lately, it seemed as if all rational thought left her brain when Camdon was around. “I told Violet we would take her and Wyatt to dinner one night.”
“That’s a great idea. How about tonight?”
****
“All this Wyatt talk. You’re getting soft,” Camdon teased.
“What?” Violet whipped her head to face him, a frown marring her smooth forehead and a pout drooping her lips.
Just the reaction he’d hoped for. Especially since the last few yards they’d just been plodding along at a snail’s pace.
“Come on, Violet. We’ve got this.” He encouraged her with a hand against her back as they slogged past the used bookstore and ever nearer to Marie’s Java Hut, marking the end of the race. The scent of espresso and nutmeg flavored the cool air. “Let’s show your mother what we’re made of.”
He could make out Sierra’s watermelon red sweater covered by the bright orange safety vest, but she was still a dot on the horizon. Much as he tried, he couldn’t quite squelch the urge to show off by convincing Violet to zoom past the finish line with him.
“Oh, she knows what I’m made of, but I could see why you might want to impress her,” Violet taunted. She picked up her pace until they were jogging again. Well, he was jogging. She was running full out, panting and huffing and mumbling about getting him back later.
He grinned, not doubting her for a minute.
They passed Mickey’s Pasta Place. Tomato and basil mingled with the coffee smells and the sweat of a few hundred runners. Just a few more yards. He could make out the slight slant of Sierra’s head as she listened to one of her coworkers, then the smile that grew wider, sweeter, as she turned back around to face them.
“You can do it! Let’s go! Pick it up!” Onlookers and runners who’d beat them past the finish line cheered from the sidelines, clapping and yelling.
He ignored the crowd, focusing only on Sierra. On the beautiful face that drew him closer. To their future. To their today.
To their date tonight, their first real one. Would it be the first day of the best of their lives? Would she face her past and allow God to free her from her fear and distrust of men? Could she acknowledge her fear, that all men were the same, as a lie? Would she finally accept that he loved her? And even more scary, would she return that love?
“Give her time. She’ll come around.” The female voice panted beside him, white clouds of frosty breath hovering around their mouths. How had Violet—? It was if she’d seen straight through to his heart. Or had he spoken the words aloud?
Time. How much more time, Lord?
Clapping and cheering roared from the sidelines, but he focused on Sierra, standing near the finish line. He grabbed Violet’s hand, preparing for their victory dance. “Ready?”
“It’s all over but the shoutin’, dude.”
Grinning, he raised their joined hands, and they jogged under the banner, pumping their fists. They slowed to a h
alt, and he tugged Violet’s neck, pulling her into a one-armed hug. “I knew you could do it.”
“I know.”
He turned around, scanning the area for Sierra, disappointed when he didn’t see her. But, she popped up on the other side of Violet, laughing. “Great job, you two.” She gave Violet a hug and then turned to him.
He opened his arms, and she stepped right into his embrace. He closed his eyes and dropped his chin on the top of her head, breathing in her fruit and floral essence. Oh, God, for every day of this. His prayer came from the deepest part of his soul.
When she pulled back, wild strands of hair stuck up from connecting with his whiskers. With their arms still locked around each other, she gazed up at him, her gorgeous green eyes glowing with promise, with a new vibrancy.
The noisy crowd slipped into the background. He dipped his head, encouraged by her tightened grip around his back. Her lips tasted of pumpkin and nutmeg, of sweetness and spice.
Why had he waited so long to taste this…this sensation of dreams coming true and a future unfolding before him, so right and perfect?
Did she feel the same way? Would she give their friendship a chance to evolve into something more permanent? Something infinitely more beautiful and satisfying, centered around faith.
And what if he landed the promotion? How would it impact their budding relationship? Would it break off the bud just as it was beginning to blossom?
21
“How do I look?” Sierra tugged at the hem of her blouse and twirled around in front of the mirror.
“Hot to trot.” Violet pushed aside the dozen or so shirts and pants littering the bed and plopped down on the edge of the mattress. She waved her hand over the pile. “But what’s up with all the laundry here?”
Sierra groaned and made a face. “I couldn’t decide what to wear.”
“Really?” Violet lifted her eyebrows. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line since this is my first real date?”
Mercy! Her daughter’s first date!
She covered her face with a palm. What an awful mother she was! She’d been so consumed with thoughts of Camdon and that—that kiss—that she hadn’t even thought to check on Violet. Wasn’t helping your daughter decide what to wear for her first date in a mother’s job description?