Staying For You

by Van Wyk, Jennifer

“You got another one for me?” he grunts and I do. I just can’t voice it right now because I’m in the middle of flying again.

  He reaches around us and finds my clit and that’s all it takes. I’m gone and he’s following me and the only thing that I don’t like about it is that he’s behind me and I can’t see his face. But it doesn’t matter. Not right now. Because this is something that we’ll be repeating. And often.

  And the day that I have to say goodbye to The Escape and Owen I’ll do it reminding myself that this was only temporary.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Owen

  The sun filters through the window and I smile. Cami’s naked body is curled up, back facing me, not touching but still close. Her hair is covering her face and she’s snoring lightly. I woke her up once in the night when my body woke me up because it recognized that she was in my bed and naked.

  I have no idea how I’ve grown attached to Cami in such a short amount of time or how I’m going to remind myself that when it’s time for her to leave, it’s the right thing for her to do. For the life of me, though, I can’t help but think that she belongs here.

  Last night, I dreamt of a different outcome. She was getting ready to leave and I was fighting against the urge to beg her to stay. Her blue eyes were filled with tears when she looked at me and I couldn’t stop myself from telling her I wanted her here and that we’d figure it all out.

  She seems calm and peaceful at The Escape and in my home. It’s hard not to see it and wish for more. But that’s not what we’re about. She’s here for a short time only. However, friends with benefits isn’t only about the benefits.

  Her breathing is even and I know she’s still sleeping soundly so I slip out of bed, find my flannel pants and pull them on. Putting a knee to the mattress, I bend low and kiss the top of her head and leave her be.

  I turn on the coffee maker and then look outside. It’s still snowing, but lighter than it was last night. I can already see that we have another foot of fresh snow on the ground, though.

  I go back to the kitchen and pull out the ingredients to make my famous — okay, they’re only famous among my family but they’re highly requested — sausage, egg and cheese breakfast burritos, and place a pod in the coffee maker to brew a cup.

  Trying to stay as quiet as possible, I carry my coffee into the living room and start a fire. I stare into the flames, thinking over last night and letting my lips curve into a smile. She was so eager, so fun and responsive.

  I sit down on the couch, rest my foot on the coffee table, and sip at my coffee then do something I’ve wanted to do since she arrived and I learned she was an author.

  I do a Google search.

  My eyes widen when my thumb clicks on her name and see the extensive list of books attached to it. She’s been busy.

  And it seems that she’s quite popular, if I’m understanding the pages correctly. Her books have a lot of stars and the number behind each is in the triple digits, indicating that her books have a lot of reviews.

  I filter so her newest is listed at the top and my stomach sinks on her behalf.

  Not her best work.

  What happened to the Camilla Moore we know and love?

  She lost her touch.

  This was her worst work yet. Juvenile writing at best.

  I quit at 30%. I just couldn’t put myself through anymore of that drivel.

  One of my favorite authors and it was such a disappointment.

  I quit reading at the word disappointment and reverse my search.

  Reading through her earlier books’ reviews, readers couldn’t get enough.

  The praise was endless.

  This is a debut? It reads like a seasoned author.

  Her characters have depth and the story was flawless.

  Absolutely without a doubt my favorite author.

  She knows how to tell a love story like no other.

  Camilla’s men are what all real life men are up against.

  My gosh, if her real life is half as romantic as the stories she spins, I want to be her.

  Is this why she’s up here?

  What happened?

  I don’t know anything about writing books, or reading them for that matter, so I’m not entirely sure what any of this means aside from the fact that her recent books haven’t been as well received.

  Draining the last of my coffee, I drop my phone on the coffee table and stoke the fire a bit before heading to the kitchen to start making the breakfast burritos.

  I start another cup for myself then get a mug out of the cupboard so I can make one for Cami, too.

  I start the potatoes and sausage first because they take the longest then get the eggs ready to scramble. Twenty minutes later, I have the burritos ready but haven’t heard a peep out of Cami. I brew her a cup of coffee and decide that maybe it’s a good way to wake her up.

  I chuckle as I walk toward my bed. She’s splayed across the bed, arms and legs spread out and she’s face down. As in, face-planted right into the pillow.

  How is she even breathing that way? If I didn’t see her back moving up and down, I’d worry.

  “Cami,” I say quietly, moving closer so I can see if the scent of coffee will wake her up like in the old Folgers commercials.

  She grunts and rolls her head to the side, smacking her lips and sighing.

  “Cami,” I repeat and this time I get one blue eye looking up at me.

  “Hmm?”

  “Morning.”

  “Why are you waking me up? I’m on vacation.”

  “Not a morning person?” I laugh, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

  Her head shakes side to side. I rub her back and she smiles lightly. Sleepy and adorable. It might be my favorite look on her. It’s also dangerous as hell because one morning with her won’t be nearly enough. She slides a hand over to me and she runs a pinky finger against my thigh.

  “Morning,” she mumbles.

  “I have coffee.” I lift up the cup in my hands as proof.

  Slowly she rolls over and sits up, the blanket falling to her waist. I was wrong earlier. This is the dangerous part. Because seeing her sleepy and adorable and naked is something I won’t ever get enough of.

  She takes the coffee and sips. “Mmm. Bless you. Someone kept me up most the night so this is much appreciated.”

  “Whoever that was sounds like an awesome guy.”

  “Mmm,” she hums, eyes dancing as she looks up at me over the rim of her cup.

  “I also made breakfast.”

  “You know what? He really is an awesome guy.”

  “Figured.” I grin and decide my lips have been away from hers for long enough so I give her a morning kiss, careful to not get too carried away.

  “Not even afraid of my morning breath, huh?”

  “Why do you think I didn’t let us get hot and heavy?” I tease.

  “Good plan.” She nods seriously then takes another big swallow of coffee. I can’t stop staring at her. Her breasts bared to me, the soft curves of her hips and stomach, the long column of her neck that’s so sensitive. I know what’s beneath the blanket. I memorized every inch with my hands and eyes and mouth.

  “Hungry?” she asks, eyes growing a bit hooded.

  “Yes.”

  “Want to work up a bigger appetite?”

  I take her cup and set it on the nightstand then we get to working on building up our appetites for breakfast.

  * * *

  “This is delicious.” Her hand is covering her mouth which is currently full of breakfast burrito.

  “Thank you. It’s my specialty, I suppose.”

  She takes another bite and moans. “I can see why. Holy crap. I could eat one of these every single day.”

  “You need a moment alone with your burrito?”

  Another bite. Another moan. Then she wipes her mouth with a paper towel. “I guess you can stay.”

  “How very generous of you.”

  “I agree.”

  W
e finish eating and clean up then move to the living area in front of the fire again.

  “It’s still snowing,” she remarks.

  “It is.”

  “Is this… normal? Do you always get this much snow?”

  “Not always. This is a little extreme, for sure. But yeah, we do have a lot of snow.”

  She cuddles up to me, resting her head on my shoulder. “I love it.”

  I wrap an arm around her and kiss the top of her head. “You do?”

  “It’s so pretty and there’s something about it that, you know? It’s romantic.” She tilts her head up so she’s looking at me. “That’s not exactly the right word.”

  “It’s exactly the right word,” I correct her, giving her shoulder a light squeeze. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “What brought you here?”

  She stiffens but relaxes quickly. “If you don’t want to answer, you don’t have to. I’ve been curious, though. It’s not exactly common for someone to stay with me for six weeks, especially in the winter months.”

  “I do enjoy being the exception to the rule.”

  “Ha! That you are.”

  “Part of what you said earlier is true. I came here to somewhat lick my wounds from my divorce. How do I write about love and romance when I know not a single thing about it myself?”

  “You know…” I begin to interrupt her but she shakes her head.

  “I know. I know. It’s just what I wondered. My own head got in my way. So then my books started sucking. Like, big time sucking. And that’s not me playing a woe is me card or looking for compliments. It’s the truth. You can ask your sister, she’d tell you.” She giggles and I sit quietly. I’m not sure what to say to that because anything I say wouldn’t change the way things are.

  She blows out a breath, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and lies back against the couch, fuzzy sock-covered feet up on the coffee table. Unfortunately, we put clothes on before we started eating breakfast. She’s wearing a pair of my joggers with the waistband rolled over a few times and one of my flannel shirts. There’s definitely something to seeing her in my clothes that I like more than I should. “I came here to… find inspiration. I was lacking that back home, and it was showing. I love writing. It’s what’s in my soul and suddenly I just had no desire. Depression was threatening to take over. Between my failed marriage and books that no one enjoyed, I was sad. Frustrated. I knew something needed to change, not only with my marriage but in my life in general, but I just had no idea where to start.”

  Looking at her profile while she stares off at the flames roaring in the fireplace, I let her words settle over me. The crackling of the fire the only noise around us and I love it. For me, it’s calming. And the way she’s relaxing into the couch, expression softening even though I can tell the things she’s saying would normally cause her to feel tense, makes me think it has the same effect on her.

  She turns to look at me again, ready to continue. “To lose my passion for writing, it was the worst. That’s when I knew I’d reached my breaking point.” There’s a pause and she grins wryly. “My best friend, Gretchen, was yelling at me one day.”

  “What for?” I chuckle.

  “Because, as we established, I take care of people to the point where it becomes a burden on me as well. I allowed my ex to take advantage of my kindness for too long and she’d had enough of it on my behalf. Once she convinced me to kick him out of the house, she also told me to do something for myself. Get away or take a vacation. I think she was expecting me to go somewhere with a beach and she could convince her husband that she needed to come visit me.”

  “I don’t blame her.”

  “Yeah, I don’t either. I kept thinking that I needed an escape and as much as the beach sounded good, I really didn’t want to be around so many people. I went to my computer and typed in escape and guess what popped up.”

  I snap my fingers and point at nothing. “Would you look at that? My money spent on keywords actually works!”

  She chuckles at my excitement. “Right?! The Escape was one of the first to show up and as soon as I clicked on the link to your website, I felt something in me shift. I knew I was supposed to come up here.”

  I like that. Her honesty, openness. I don’t like that she felt defeated and that’s why she ended up here, but the fact that just looking at my website helped her find some sort of peace makes me feel pretty damn good. We could sit and talk for hours on this subject. I could cover her with kind words and praises. Tell her that she’s obviously a good author and amazing human or explain how freaking happy I am that she ended up here. But none of it really matters because she knows all this. She just needed to be here, away from her home and reminders of all the failures — in her mind, anyway — around her. So rather than continue to focus on the past, I give her a taste of what she needs. “Want to go sledding?”

  “Yes.”

  Her quick response makes me smile. “Alright then. Get your coat and boots on that you wore up here yesterday and we’ll sled down to your cabin to get your snow pants on.”

  “Sled down to my cabin?”

  “What? That’s not normal?” I joke and she shakes her head, laughing.

  A few years ago, a local company was closing down. I bought several sleds and a couple pair of snow shoes. I had no idea if I’d ever use them but the sleds have come in really handy. Earlier this year, I used them to pull supplies up and down the hill to get to the new cabins I was building.

  It doesn’t take either of us long before we’re sitting in a couple brightly colored plastic sleds. Hers is blue and mine is green. She looks over at me with a twinkle in her eye and grins. Hair sticking out all over the place from under her yellow beanie. Snow still lightly falling from the gray sky above. The snow fell wet and heavy enough that we have a good pack down, making it perfect for sledding. “Race ya!” she shouts then pushes off the ground and begins zipping down the hill.

  I’m competitive enough that I waste no time following after her and luckily even with her head start, my weight propels me down the hill faster. However, I wasn’t really planning on how we would stop when we came to her cabin because it’s still on the downhill side. When I get close, I stick my foot out and tip the sled to the side to stop me from going any farther. I hear her scream just in time for her to barrel into me. We’re in a heap of snow and tangled limbs while we each hold tight to our sleds so they don’t continue on without us.

  We’re both laughing and breathing hard, me on my back and her against my side where we crashed together. She sits up and leans over me, bends down and kisses me quickly then stands up.

  I’m still lying on the cold, snowy ground staring up at the snow-covered trees when I hear her cabin door open and her call out, “You comin’?”

  “Yeah,” I croak out, moving to get up.

  But I think once again how easy she fits in here at The Escape.

  And how hard it’s going to be when we have to say goodbye.

  Chapter Twenty

  Cami

  “Calling Camilla Moore. Over.”

  I grin. Damn I love these walkie talkies. Like. Seriously, they are the absolute coolest and most fun things ever invented.

  “Camilla here. Over.”

  “What you up to, beautiful? Over.”

  “If you saw me right now, you’d hardly call me beautiful. Over.”

  “Doubtful. I’ve only seen you look beautiful. Even when you’ve gone a day too long between showers. Over.”

  I lift my phone and look at myself in the reverse camera and wince. Yeah. It’s not pretty.

  “A day too long, huh?”

  “You forgot to say over. And yeah. But that was your wording, not mine. Over.”

  “Did you have a purpose for interrupting my incredibly busy schedule? Over.”

  “Are you done writing your next best seller for the day? Over.”

  I grin and bite my bottom lip. He’s so encouraging. Always
giving me the space I need to pound on my keyboard, as he calls it.

  “I could be. What’d you have in mind?”

  “Look out your window.”

  What the…

  I do as I’m told and look down at the ground below my deck to see Owen looking up at me, walkie talkie in hand, surrounded by blankets and what looks like a… picnic.

  Oh my gosh. Did he make me a picnic?

  He’s grinning and looking so freaking handsome I can hardly stand it. I want to go down and freeze to death outside having a picnic with him sitting on that stack of blankets more than I’ve ever wanted to do anything in my life. But still, I can’t just let him think that being all swoony by making us picnic lunch will just work on me because it’s freezing outside and I really like to make him work for it.

  “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but it’s freezing out there! And there’s snow on the ground!”

  I watch as he lifts the walkie talkie to his lips and starts talking. “Where’s your sense of adventure, Cami? I slaved over a lunch of peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches. I’ve packed us each a can of Coke. I have a giant bag of potato chips because last time you hogged them all and wouldn’t share like a decent person.”

  “I did no such thing! And you aren’t saying over!”

  “You aren’t either and yes you did. Get your cute ass down here and let’s have a picnic in the cold. I’ll keep you warm.”

  He smirks and splays his arms out to either side of him, showing off the thick layer of blankets he has down on the ground. He’s completely bundled up. Camel-colored canvas jacket and snow boots, a black beanie covering his head. How can I resist that? Or him? I mean, really? He made me a picnic and packed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for heaven’s sake! He’s so cute and adorable and charming.

  “Fine! You win.” I grumble like I’m really put out but really, he showed me the picnic lunch and I was a goner. It could be pouring rain outside and I’d still venture out and join him.

  It doesn’t take me long to brush my teeth quickly (that was a no brainer) and throw on enough clothes that I’d be warm outside and make my way to him.