by Cindi Madsen
Which was fine. Maybe she should consider Pete.
Emma peeked over the booth at Cam and Angie, who were still talking, most likely reminiscing about the good old days. Angie would mention she was single, and Cam would take one look at that sexy midriff top—the one Emma would never wear anyway, but definitely couldn’t pull off after having a baby—and that’d be that.
“Emma?”
She jerked her attention back to Quinn and Sadie.
“You should go ask him to dance,” Quinn said, and Sadie nodded her approval. “At least say hi.”
Emma shook her head. “It’s a girls’ night. You guys left your men at home. I have a babysitter. I just want simple fun.”
“Dancing is fun,” Quinn said as the next song started up, a faster one that Emma would never attempt to dance to, even if she were the kind of girl who strolled up to a guy and asked him to join her on the floor. “If not with Cam, then with us.”
Before she could list all the reasons that was a bad idea, Quinn jumped to her feet, clamped on to Emma’s hand, and started toward the floor. For someone who wore ridiculously high heels, she certainly moved fast. Sadie followed after them, and as soon as they got to the floor, Quinn spun Emma.
Despite herself, she laughed, holding on tight to Quinn’s hand and focusing on not falling. Sadie swayed her hips as she sang along with the song, her voice strong and powerful, making it clear why she had a recording contract.
Singing. Dancing. She admired how Quinn and Sadie went all out, never caring what anyone else thought. And so, instead of being the lame, boring one, she closed her eyes and let the beat take her away, laughing, dancing, and singing along with her friends.
…
Cam hadn’t seen Emma when he’d first come in, but he sure as hell saw her now. Angie hadn’t stopped talking since she’d greeted him, but now he was only catching blips of her chatter.
Emma’s laugh carried over to him, that same laugh that stirred up memories and made him feel a type of longing that he couldn’t quite name. All week he’d had trouble not staring, and the tight jeans and the way she swayed her hips to the music wasn’t making it any easier. She had on a simple tank top and her hair was down, hanging in loose waves down her back.
“A Brantley at the Triple S. Everyone, look out. A drunken brawl’s sure to break out.”
Cam turned to see Trevor, one of his former classmates, behind the bar, a stupid smirk on his face and a couple of empty glasses in his hands.
He gritted his teeth. Yeah, and if I start throwing punches, I’m going to start with you, jackass. Back in the day, Cam had a few rowdy nights here—usually because of people like Trevor running their mouths. But that’d been a long time ago, and he knew Heath frequented the place without stirring up trouble. Dad was a different story and was still banned, but that didn’t mean Cam was going to sit here and let the cocky twerp the town used to worship because he had a good throwing arm talk crap.
“How’s that football career working out for you, Trevor?” Cam asked, giving him a wide grin. “All those NFL contracts you were going to get offered used to be the only thing you and your family ever talked about.”
Trevor scowled, the smirk now nowhere in sight. “I chose to stay here. But if I had your white trash family, I probably would’ve run away, too.”
Angry bursts of heat traveled through Cam’s veins, awakening every cell in his body, and the stool rocked as he scooted forward on it. He curled his hands into fists, fighting the urge to reach over the bar, yank Trevor across it by his collar, and show him how easily he could still kick his ass.
It’s not worth it. No matter how good it’d feel for a couple of seconds. And then his jab would only prove to be right.
Deploying the methods he’d used before, he searched for that serene image of a lake. It flickered into view, but then he heard Emma laugh again, so he held onto the happy sound and glanced back toward the dance floor, where she, Quinn, and Sadie were still dancing.
“Yeah, obviously he’s still a jerk,” he heard Angie say, and assuming she was talking about Trevor, he wholeheartedly agreed. Which was why he kept his gaze on Emma.
“Cam?”
He reluctantly dragged his attention away from Emma’s dance moves and back to Angie.
“Are you going to buy me a drink, or what?” She batted her blue eyes and twirled a strand of dark hair around her finger, moves that used to hypnotize him into forgetting her mood swings and their many ups and downs. Their high school relationship had been toxic—incapable of expressing feelings or dealing with his pent-up anger, he’d been as much to blame for it as she was, with her constant manipulation and never-ending attempts to make him jealous. While his temper still clearly got the best of him sometimes, he managed it better now, and part of that was staying away from situations that’d trigger it.
That near fight with Trevor proved there were parts of being in Hope Springs that made him almost revert to his high school self, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.
The second to last was starting up something with Angie again, even if she was giving off very strong signals that she was down for temporary fun. “Sure.”
She flashed him a triumphant grin, and he signaled Seth Jr. over and said, “Put whatever she wants on my tab.” Then he stood and gave her a slight nod. “Nice catching up with you, Angie. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
The song was coming to a close, and he wasn’t sure what he was doing, but his feet seemed to have already decided for him. He walked over to Emma, reaching her as the final notes of the song faded away. He sure as hell hoped the next song was slow, because he didn’t dance as it was, but he especially didn’t do any of that fast spinning country crap.
“Mind if I cut in?” he asked, placing his hand on Emma’s back, and he would’ve loved to snap a picture of the three shocked faces that turned to him.
As luck would have it, the song was slow, the kind that’d give him an excuse to pull Emma close.
“We’ll order another round of drinks for after y’all are done,” Sadie said. “Coors good for you, Cam?”
“That’d be great, thanks.” He watched them go and then turned to Emma, who raised an eyebrow.
“My friendly neighborhood car thief thinks he deserves a dance, does he?”
He laughed and slid his hands around Emma’s waist. “Your car’s almost done, I promise.” She placed her hands on his shoulders and began swaying in time to the beat, and he marveled at how tiny—not to mention perfect—she felt in his arms. “Hope it was okay for me to cut in. You just looked like you were having so much fun, and I thought I’d come see what all the fuss was about.”
“I guess I put on a good show, then.”
“You do,” he said, and that adorable blush crept across her cheeks.
“I meant…they dragged me out here. Dancing’s not usually my thing.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” He probably should tone down the blatant flirting, but tonight he didn’t really care about shoulds.
Emma linked her hands behind his neck, bringing her tighter against him, and he cared even less about what he should do. He thought of about a dozen questions to ask her, but each one seemed like it’d ruin the mood, so he decided to save them for later.
About halfway through the song, though, Emma bit her lip and her serious-business expression crept into her features. “So, I was talking to the girls, and they made me realize that we have a lot to figure out. Have you told your dad about Zoey yet? I understand that she’ll need to meet everyone, but I don’t want to overwhelm her, and I wasn’t sure if—”
“Emma.”
Her gaze lifted to his.
“We don’t have to figure it out tonight.” He reached up and swept away the section of hair that’d fallen in her eyes, his pulse quickening when she let out a shallow breath. “All those things can wait. Why don’t we just enjoy the dance?”
She opened her mouth, ready to contradict him as usual, no doubt, but
then she closed it, one corner of her mouth turning up. “Okay,” she said, and her fingertips brushed the back of his neck.
An electric zip fired across his skin, and he wrapped his arms even tighter around her. Just dancing with her like this would get people talking, but again, that fell in the to-worry-about-later category. “Okay.”
Chapter Ten
Cam spotted Emma on the park bench and headed in her direction. When he’d texted that her car was ready, she’d told him that she was at the park with Zoey, but she’d be home in an hour or two. She’d also said he could just leave it in her driveway if he wanted—that she wasn’t worried anyone would steal it, even with the keys dangling from the ignition.
But he couldn’t stop thinking about that dance they’d shared two nights ago, and he didn’t want to wait till tomorrow at work to see her. So he’d told her he’d bring it by the park.
She spun around as he approached, and his heart caught. The sun played on her features, emphasizing the dark eyebrows and lashes that framed her big brown eyes. A smile spread across her lips, and warmth coursed through his veins. “I thought you’d have on a ski mask. Don’t thieves usually try to conceal their identity when they return to the scene of the crime?”
“Technically, this isn’t the crime scene, and ever since I heard the senior citizens have taken over the town, I’ve been trying to up my game. I’ve just got to find the right time to make my move and take control back.” He gestured to where he’d parked the car and then pulled the keys out of his pocket. They jingled as he handed them over, and he couldn’t help but hold onto her hand for a second before letting them go.
“Thank you,” she said.
For a second he paused, noting all the kids running around on the playground and the other parents seated on benches next to strollers and big diaper bags. Sunday afternoon at the park was apparently a big thing when you had kids, and all of a sudden the whole scene made his internal organs tighten.
It felt fast. He hadn’t thought this through. He’d just meant to come see Emma, and he hadn’t thought about how…family oriented the entire thing would feel.
Watching Zoey the other night had been eye-opening and completely overwhelming, and while he was working to adjust to having a kid, he wasn’t sure he was ready for full-on park time with the whole town watching.
Just as he was about to make an excuse to go, though, Zoey came running over. She eyed him for a second, like she was trying to place him, and then she said something he couldn’t make out. He squatted down so he could hear her better.
“What was that?”
She pointed to his chest. “Daddy?”
He nodded, his throat growing tight. The surreal sensation he’d experienced before was still there, but more in the background, and happiness and pride swirled into the mix. “Yep.”
He figured he was here now, and he might as well stay. What else was he going to do? His brother was all wrapped up in his fiancée, and besides being the third-wheel at their meals, he just worked while he was at home.
“Up,” Zoey said, raising her arms. So he picked her up, standing as he did so.
Emma stood and picked a leaf out of Zoey’s hair. She glanced around and then gave him a nervous smile as she fidgeted with the sippy cup in her hand. “If this doesn’t get the town talking, nothing will.”
Aware that there were, in fact, several pairs of eyes on them, Cam leaned down and kissed Emma’s cheek. He’d never cared what people in town thought about him, and he wasn’t about to start. “That’ll help give them something to talk about.”
Emma blushed, and his gaze moved to her lips, where he’d like to plant another kiss. But the little girl in his arms demanded that it was time to swing. He stepped toward the swing set, and Zoey twisted around and said, “Tom on, Mommy.”
Emma trailed after them, and once he’d deposited Zoey in the bucket swing and pushed her, she urged Emma to swing, too. She lowered herself onto the flat-seat swing the next set over, and Cam reached over and pushed her.
That awesome laugh of hers filled the air as she wobbled, his push not very good since he was attempting to push her from the front without accidentally feeling her up—even though he wouldn’t be opposed to feeling her up in private.
Okay, Brantley, time to tame down the thoughts. We are at a park.
Emma slowed to a stop as Zoey demanded going higher. She stood and took a picture with her phone, first of him and Zoey together, and then she moved next to him and took another one, just of Zoey, giggling as she soared through the air.
“Can you send those to me?” he asked, wanting to have a picture of Zoey, as well as a memento of this day. It felt like a tipping point, the one where it finally sank in that all this was happening, and even though it stressed him out, it was also more fun than he expected.
“Of course.”
The desire to touch Emma again beat out caution, and he reached over and slung an arm around her shoulders, continuing to push Zoey with the other hand.
Emma looked at him like she wasn’t sure what he was doing, and he didn’t know, either. Only that he didn’t want to let go. The more time he spent with Emma, the more time he wanted to spend with her.
“So all jokes aside,” she said, “how much do I owe you for the car?”
Patsy Higgins came out of nowhere, peering at them through thick glasses that magnified her eyes and the curiosity swimming in them. “Well, well. Cameron Brantley. I heard you were back.” She arched her eyebrows and gave a pointed gaze to his arm around Emma’s shoulders. “And dating our Emma Walker, it seems.”
“Oh,” Emma said, stepping away. “We’re not dating. He’s just…we’re…”
Maybe there was a right way to do this and a wrong way, but he didn’t give a damn. “I’m spending time with Emma. And my daughter.”
Once again, he thought he should just keep a camera on him at all times so he could snap pictures of shocked expressions—whatever Patsy Higgins had expected, she definitely hadn’t expected that, and she looked both thrilled and scandalized by the news. Probably thrilled about spreading it and scandalized that someone like him would think he could be with their Emma Walker.
“I didn’t realize… You certainly have been gone a long time.” The town busybody pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “A little girl needs a father, you know.”
“Mrs. Higgins, please don’t scold him.” Emma took a big breath, like she needed to fortify herself. “It’s my f—”
“I know,” Cam said. “I should’ve been here more, but you know how the military is. I plan to spend lots of time making up for everything I missed, though, don’t you worry.”
Patsy looked smugly satisfied, as if she’d righted a wrong in the world. “Glad to hear it. You two have a lovely Sunday. In case you’ve forgotten, the church services are at ten every Sunday morning. Oh, and we’d like to see both of you at the next town meeting—they’re the first Wednesday night of every month.”
He bit back the desire to ask if she had a mouse in her pocket, considering the use of we and our—basically the woman thought she was the town, her opinion speaking for everyone.
Then Patsy’s attention moved to Emma, and she even brought up a finger. “And this doesn’t get you out of the picnic auction, just so you know. I expect your basket, and if Cam wants to be your date that afternoon, he’ll simply have to bid on it, like everyone else.”
As soon as the woman had moved on to guilt the next group of people into doing something they didn’t want to, he asked, “What is she talking about? Picnic auction and bidding?”
“Don’t you remember the big spring picnic they have every year? Where the women bring the baskets and then guys bid on them, and whoever wins gets to go with the girl on a picnic-type date?”
Cam shook his head. “No. It does ring a bell now that you mention it, but I never went to those hyped-up town events.”
“That doesn’t surprise me, since you were obviously way too cool for that ki
nd of thing,” Emma said. Before he could defend himself and say it had nothing to do with being too cool, she added, “I tried to boycott it, because I think it’s sexist, honestly. I get that back in the day they bid on them so they could see how good of a cook the woman they wanted to court was and all, but those days are long gone, and during the one town meeting I attended this year—mostly because I was trying to butter up the town committee so our permits on Mountain Ridge would go through—I suggested they flip it and the guys bring the baskets.”
Cam’s amusement grew with every sentence, and he could hardly believe they were even having this conversation—he’d forgotten about all the odd town activities, from parades and festivals to auction picnics. “Let me guess. They didn’t go for it.”
“No! They looked at me like I’d suggested the men start wearing around dresses and doing all the cooking and cleaning—which might be a nice change for a lot of women in town, for the record. Well, the cooking and cleaning. The dresses thing might be weird. I’m not saying they have to do it all the time, but one picnic? It’s just sandwiches.”
Using one hand to push Zoey, he gave a noncommittal head bob, not wanting to interrupt Emma’s rant, because it was rather cute, and he got a kick out of it.
“At least I got the permits pushed through, but then, after the meeting, Patsy cornered me and said she was glad I’d brought up the picnic, because she’d noticed I hadn’t participated in several years. She went on and on about how the town relies on that money and how it helps fund the town’s activities, and then she mentioned that a lot of the single women who usually provided baskets had gotten married this year, and that put them in a tight spot.”
Emma huffed and continued to swing her arms around, the movements getting bigger and bigger as she relayed the story. “To add insult to injury, she made sure to add that now that Zoey was older, it really was time for me to get back into the dating world anyway. So, long story short, I’m taking a basket to the stupid picnic, so that it and I can be bid on like some kind of prize.”
Cam bit back a laugh, but the grin couldn’t be helped. “I’d be too worried to bid on your basket—from the sounds of it, you’d probably fill it with inedible food or something that’d give a guy food poisoning just to prove a point.”