Cammie had returned. He breathed a sigh of relief even as he wondered why it bothered him so much. After all, her presence made more work for him. Her absence meant a week of leisure. He frowned. He’d had entirely too much leisure in this lifetime. It was time to make his life count. And the best way to do that was by helping others.
Smiling, he headed to the door just in time to help her as she struggled to open it. “Let me get that,” he said as he tried to collect the bags from her arms.
“I’ve got this but if you want to help, there’s still plenty more in the trunk that still has to be carried in.” She brushed by him and continued on toward the kitchen.
Shrugging, Adam walked to her car and saw that she wasn’t joking. The entire trunk was positively packed with groceries. He was still standing there eyeing the bags when she was suddenly at his side.
“Yo, genius, these bags aren’t going to carry themselves into the house.” And without another word, she simply started grabbing the bags and loading the plastic handles onto her hands.
“This can’t all be for Friday, can it?” He asked. “I said cocktail party, not four course meal!”
She laughed and responded lightly. “Nah, but I for one do not plan on missing out on my favorite cooking holiday just because I’m stuck here with you.”
Giving himself a mental head slap, he realized that he had all but forgotten National Football and Turkey Day. Since he had no use for football and little interest in turkey, he had spent the last few years looking at it as a day off, a drinking holiday, an opportunity to sleep in, a day to recuperate from all the debauchery the night before. He and Sam had not celebrated it since their parents passed away. Well, in truth, maybe Sam had and he simply hadn’t been invited. He tried to picture Sam and Neville eating alone at that big long table in that cold empty dining room. It wasn’t a pretty picture.
In an instant, he began to imagine Thanksgiving here, at the Hamptons house. Though they had celebrated Christmas here on occasion, they had never enjoyed Thanksgiving anywhere but in the city. Father had suggested it once, but mom claimed that it was too much work to transport all that food, since her preparations began days in advance. And every year after the same discussion, his father would agree. It looked like all of that was changing this year.
Without thinking, he headed to the kitchen and the phone. Cammie was unloading groceries and putting them away in the fridge, freezer, and pantry. She was humming happily to herself. Adam was distracted for a moment. She looked absolutely lovely. When she was like this, he had no difficulty at all remembering that she wanted her coffee light and sweet. She all but radiated joy at the moment and Adam wanted nothing more than to be a part of it.
He slowly picked up the phone, reluctantly dialed his brother’s cell phone, and suddenly spoke words that he never imagined he’d be speaking. “Sam, why don’t you and Haley come to the Hamptons house for Thanksgiving?”
“Well, we were hoping you would come here. We have Ellen, Ryan, and little Abigail coming over. You remember them, right?” His voice, which had started sternly, was slowly softening, becoming more normal.
“Yes, but all the food is here. Do you have any food there?” He leaned against the counter.
“Neville was going to…”
“Your next words had better be…help us pack the car to come to the Hamptons. Seriously, Sam. We’ve never had Thanksgiving here. I’m here. Cammie’s here. Food is here. Come here.” And he waited. He knew that eventually Sam would see reason.
“Thanksgiving is supposed to be kind of special,” he said in tone that suggested Adam should know what he meant.
Adam straightened. “Are you popping the question? We can make it super special. All you’ll have to worry about is how to react when she comes to her senses and turns you down! Bring everyone with you. Come the night before. Stay for the weekend. We have so much to talk about. And I need your help…” He smiled widely.
Damn, he should have used that approach from the beginning. Sam never denied him help. He was the big brother who had been given the daunting task of looking out for his younger brother all those years ago. He smirked. He could just about hear the inner conflict waging inside Sam at the moment.
“Fine. I’ll make the arrangements.” Sam sighed. “You owe me for this one.” Then the phone disconnected.
It was amazing. He had pulled it off. Everyone was coming here for Thanksgiving. “Hey, doll!” He called over to Cammie, lost in her own world.
She paused and looked up at him once she had finished pouring the sugar into the canister. “Yes. And for the record, I’m not sure I like you calling me ‘doll.’” She frowned at him.
“Well, I know I detest you calling me ‘genius.’ Get over it.” He chuckled. “Just thought you should know we’re having company for Thanksgiving.”
“Great,” she shrugged as she turned around and tossed the empty bag in the garbage.
“I’m springing this on you after you have returned from the grocery store.” He watched and waited for her reaction.
“I know.” She moved over to grab the flour and add that to the appropriate canister.
“You are a girl, right? I mean…I thought girls were supposed to freak out over this kind of thing. You’re meeting the family, celebrating a holiday together, and cooking for probably more people than you anticipated.” He leaned on the counter and watched her, waiting for it to sink in.
Sighing, she looked at him with raised brow, “First of all, these people aren’t my family. They are yours. Second, it’s not like we’re dating. Not only are you not my type, but this is a business arrangement. And finally, because this is my business, kind of my thing, I always expect more people than RSVP. So, does that about cover it? Can I finish unloading the groceries in peace, and then we can talk ad campaign over lunch. I thought I’d do something simple today like sandwiches. You do eat sandwiches, right?”
“Let me get this straight…you’re not freaking out and you’re going to make me a sandwich? Too bad I’m not your type because right now, you are the girl of my dreams.” And with that, he turned on his heels and headed back out of the kitchen.
They ate their sandwiches while chatting over the plans. Adam discovered very quickly that he liked being in charge. He wasn’t accustomed to that, but now, here he was, running the Hamptons house and Cammie, too. That last part almost gave him the most pleasure of all. If only she didn’t have such a strong stance on the whole no sex part. He really wanted to see if they were as passionate in bed as they were out of it. He had never fought with anyone like this before. It might not seem like a big deal to most guys, but there was something about being able to fight with someone and not worry that it was going to escalate into something ugly and dangerous. He had grown up with friends who spent much of their childhood with their stomachs in knots. Their parents fought constantly, there were repeated threats of divorce, and they never even seemed to like each other much let alone love each other. He never wanted that. Living with his family was so different.
For years, he slept around. There’s no tension in that. There’s no commitment, no responsibility. He could be charming and sweet and devoted for four or five hours and get on with his life. He never had to wonder whether they would fight like cats and dogs or get on like lambs and lions. The few women he had brought to the Hamptons house over the years had been such a huge disappointment that he had stopped doing that. He grew tired of trying to evict one girl after another. He detested needy chicks that had to be entertained every moment. That was why Cammie was such as lovely change of pace in every respect.
While he slept, she went grocery shopping. She didn’t ask for money, of course he had made it perfectly clear that for the time, he didn’t have any. He hadn’t had to ask her to stay or beg her to leave. She was her own person. She was driven and determined. She seemed perfectly capable. And if her cooking was done as well and as efficiently as she did everything else, this would be a holiday to remember. Hell,
it would be a holiday season to remember. She was going to rock the catering industry and put at least one company out of business. He rubbed his hands as they sat near the roaring fire. He smiled as he imagined that dusty old Dinners by Dash having to work as a greeter at the local Wal-Mart. Even that was too good for the cranky old bat.
“What are you thinking?” Cammie asked as she held her spoon aloft. She wore this expression that showed just how hard she was trying to analyze his actions.
“Well, I think you are going to be a huge success.” He leaned back happily, his belly full of soup and sandwich while he stared at a plate of rich chocolatey brownies. “How the hell did you pull this off?”
“Listen, I haven’t even opened my doors yet, I can’t start giving away catering secrets already.” She chuckled. He leaned in and she caved. “Ah, but it you must know, I used a mix for the brownies that I dressed up and then made my own. I can’t imagine I could do better than Ghirardelli. The bread was homemade at the bakery; I just sliced it here. I think it adds a little something extra to a sandwich. And while I can bake my own bread, I can’t do it in twenty minutes. The soup…is from scratch. I love making tomato soup. Once you’ve done it as many times as I have, well, I can practically make it in my sleep.” She smiled as she basked in the fire and compliments.
“Wow. Just…wow.” He leaned back and studied her. “You are amazing.”
“You are still not getting in my pants.” She smirked.
Adam shook his head. “And just when did I suggest that I wanted to ‘get in your pants,’ as you so eloquently put it? I believe you set me straight on that last night. So, I have let that little fantasy die a slow and painful death.” He clutched at his chest as though the experience had broken his heart and earned another chuckle.
“Well, finally we are on the same page. Now that I’ve given away all my lunch trade secrets, let’s focus on Thanksgiving and your Black Friday Black Tie Event.” She smiled as she pulled out her phone ready to access all the ideas she had magically stored inside.
He tilted his head to the side. “I think that has a nice ring to it. Let’s call it that on the invitations.”
“You do realize that we really don’t have time for traditional invitations?” She raised an eyebrow to show how wary she was of the next words that were about to escape his lips.
“You do realize that in this digital age, we can send out mass invitations by email and have responses in hours instead of days and weeks?” He glanced at her poking away on the screen. “You of all people should know that.”
“What’s that mean?” She looked ready to jump down his throat.
“You do everything on that little mini computer you carry around with you. That’s all. Damn you are touchy.” He shook his head.
“Menu. Let’s talk about something we might actually agree on.” With that, the frown took up residence on his face once more. Just because they could fight and he didn’t feel insecure about it, it didn’t mean that he wanted to. Sam and Haley never fought…anymore. All their past fights were pretty much caused by Sam being a dumbass anyway. He sighed.
Cammie studied him across the table. He seemed really enthusiastic, highly motivated, and only mildly annoying. He was practically a credit to his kind. Then she remembered the last 117 parties they had both been at. That was all it took for those compliments on the tip of her tongue to slip away.
“I believe I mentioned that Thanksgiving is my favorite cooking holiday. So, I make as much as possible from scratch. The question is, with this being family and the Hamptons house, which is considerably less fancy than any of the homes I’ve seen you in, would you prefer to keep it homey or stick to fancy? It’s practically the same ingredients. I’m only changing how I assemble them. And maybe I’d have the market deliver one or two things that I didn’t pick up yet.” She smiled and waited for a response.
He cleared his throat. “What are my options? I mean…I don’t want oyster stuffing or any of that nonsense. I never developed a taste for gizzards. I shudder at the thought of pate…that was never at the first Thanksgiving. The idea of a nice down home Thanksgiving sounds pretty perfect to me.” Adam looked at her. “You know, I’ve heard that they do this big kick off of the holiday season around 7pm near the town hall. We could go, sing some carols, and watch the lighting of the Christmas tree. There are usually concession stands there selling S’mores kits and hot cocoa.”
She shook her head emphatically. “No.”
“Listen, I understand not mixing business and pleasure, but it’s the holidays and everyone else is going to be around. I thought just maybe…” He knew he must look defeated to her, but he didn’t know what to say.
“We’ll bring our own S'mores kits. I have a secret super special way of making them. As for the cocoa, I am confident that if we pack a couple of thermoses of mine, you’ll never be satisfied with anyone else’s again.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
Smiling, he realized how disappointed he had been for a moment. He thought about how important it was to him that they go. Though he had never been a big joiner before, this year felt different. This year, with Cammie around, he wanted to do things he had never done before…even if it meant risking seeing people he didn’t want to see and hanging out longer than necessary with those he no longer wanted to spend time with. That cocktail party might kill him, but he would do anything to give her a huge shot at success.
Beaming, Cammie said, “So…I like my turkey savory.”
“As opposed to?” He asked utterly puzzled.
“Sweet.” She made a face. “My mother is big on this apple walnut stuffing that she swears by. Only, I swear if I have to eat sweet turkey one more time, I’ll become a vegan. That would teach her.”
Grimacing, he responded, “No sweet turkey. Savory. And seriously…surprise me. We don’t have any traditions. My father spent the day in front of the television with friends, watching the football games. It’s one of the few times a year I’d ever get to see him being emotional. My mom would hang out in the kitchen, making everything perfect…unless her parents were around. Then she was in the kitchen making everything perfect while downing cocktails.” He laughed at the memory. “Just make it homey. Your idea of homey. It’s going to be a special day.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Sam is going to propose.” Then he placed a finger over his lips to convince her to keep their secret.
“Ohhh! I love it. And I get to be here. How wonderful!” With that, she popped out of her chair and rushed from the room.
Adam followed her carrying all the dirty dishes. “Here. You forgot these.”
“No, I didn’t.” She was puttering around the kitchen humming happily, pretty much ignoring him entirely.
“Well, these dishes aren’t going to clean themselves,” he said jokingly, remembering her comment at the trunk of the car.
Stopping what she was doing, she straightened and looked at him sternly. “I cook, you cleanup. That’s the way it works.”
He looked at her a moment. She was serious. He began to open his mouth to object when she interrupted him.
“I’m not your servant, Adam. We are here as equals even if our bank accounts aren’t. I’m saving you from Kiki and your brother; you are helping me build my company and creating a campaign. We have to eat and I enjoy cooking, but I am not your maid, your butler, or…okay, for now I’m your chauffer.” She chuckled a bit.
He was still standing there, plates and bowls in hand, shocked. Sure none of the girls from his past had cleaned up after him, but there were always those to clean up after both of them. It worked out really well. Was this what it was like to be married in a two income household? His mother had run the house, with help and his father worked outside of the home. His father never did anything around the house. Now, he was supposed to clean?
“Hey, genius, the sink is behind you.” He knew his mouth had to be hanging open. She sighed. “Fine. I’ll wash, you dry.” Then she walked over, took everything out of hi
s hands, headed to the sink and after setting everything in the huge porcelain farmhouse style sink, and started the water.
This woman. He didn’t even know where to begin. She was simply…refreshing. There was something so comfortable about being around her, spending time with her. He never had to walk on egg shells, worry that some offhand remark would injure, or worry about how she would take anything. Truth be told, she left him stinging much of the time. It was a really nice surprise to meet someone who looked like a porcelain doll, but was as tough as nails.
He was still thinking about that as he started drying the first bowl she passed him. He wasn’t paying much attention as lost in thought as he was…which may be how it all started. He set the bowl down on the marble counter a little too hard. The noise was shocking and he half expected it to break, but instead they were both just staring at it for a moment.
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