by Cindi Madsen
Emma smacked his chest with the back of her hand. “I would no— Actually, that’s not a bad idea.” She glanced around, guiltily ducking her head when Patsy Higgins looked their way again.
Then they both burst into laughter.
Zoey screeched, barely swinging now and clearly not happy about it.
“You want out?” Cam asked, and she vehemently shook her head, so he pushed her again, swinging her as high as he dared.
When he stepped back next to Emma, she shot him a sidelong glance. “So earlier, when Patsy started her lecture about girls needing their fathers…why’d you take the blame like that? I don’t want people shaming you when it’s my fault you’ve missed out on the past few years with Zoey.”
He shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t care what she thinks. I can take the heat.”
“I think I can take some of it, at least.” She looked around conspiratorially and then lowered her voice to a whisper. “That woman scares me a little, though.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, putting his arm back over her shoulders. “I’ve had lots of tactical training. I’ll protect you from her.”
A smile spread across her face, and he curled her in for a hug, a thrill going through him as she put her hand on his chest and said, with an exaggerated sigh, “My hero.”
…
“You wouldn’t believe the crazy tale I heard regarding you and Cam Brantley,” Grandma Bev said by way of greeting when she opened her front door, adding a shake of her head. “Oh, Emma. Of all the guys you could’ve picked…”
Emma stepped inside, a tired, sun-kissed Zoey on her hip. “Man, I know word travels fast in this town, but I drove over the second I left the park.”
“Judith called me. First she beats me at bingo, and now I have to hear about your park outing and the fact that he’s Zoey’s daddy from her.”
“I was going to tell you sooner, but…” Well, she’d known the head shaking would start, which was why she’d always kept her crush on him to herself, even though those last two years of high school, when she’d lived here with Grandma Bev, she’d told her almost everything else. “How are you feeling? Any dizzy spells?”
Grandma stuck her fists on her hips. “If you think I’m going to drop the subject that easily, you don’t know me at all.” She turned her attention to Zoey. “Hey, hon. Come give your grandma a hug.”
Zoey went to Grandma Bev, reanimating now that she had a new person to tell about the park and swinging.
Emma took the chance to peek at the pillbox, feeling better when the medications looked to be in order, all the boxes but Monday gone. Tuesday was refill day.
When Zoey went to play, though, Grandma turned her hard stare on Emma. “What about your architecture career? You’ve used me as an excuse long enough, and next it’ll be that Cam fellow. He’s just like your dad was, you know.”
Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. “He is not.” At Grandma’s argumentative expression, she raised a hand. “But we’re not dating, and I am working on my career. I have to finish Mountain Ridge, then I’m going to apply to firms. I swear.”
Honestly, she hadn’t thought about it much this week, but with dropping the baby bomb on Cam and dealing with the aftereffects and trying to figure out what it all meant, she’d hardly had time.
Emma glanced around for Zoey, and once she saw she was feeding the plant with the pink spray bottle Grandma had bought so she could help water the many plants, she added, “And I don’t use you as an excuse. But if I knew you’d take your medications and avoid fried foods and alcohol, I wouldn’t feel so guilty about even the thought of leaving.”
“Excuse, excuse, excuse.” Grandma Bev folded her arms. “Besides, Vera Mae and I have been talking, and she’s thinking about selling her place and moving in with me. Then we can keep each other company and help take care of each other.”
“And have too much of her punch and end up in the hospital again.”
“I’ve survived seventy-one years taking care of myself, thank-you-very-much. And don’t worry, Nurse Welch checked my blood pressure yesterday, and I’m right where I should be. Vera and I already agreed to help each other stay healthier—she makes other things bedsides rum punch, like wheat bread and breakfast smoothies with that hippie kale stuff that’s all the rage.” Grandma’s voice softened, and she put a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “I want you to follow your dreams. I think that’s why your mama went a little nutso when she and your dad divorced, bless her heart. I know it seems like she ran away from you, but I think she was just running toward all the things she felt like she missed out on.”
Emma knew that, she did. Yes, she still experienced the occasional sting of rejection from both of her parents basically running away from her the second they could, and it would’ve been nice if Mom had come to town for more than a week or two since Zoey was born, but she could tell that Mom was happy living on the West Coast. Whenever she came back to Hope Springs, she went stir-crazy, and she’d once remarked that she wished Emma had learned from her mistake instead of repeated it.
The day she’d said it, Emma renewed her resolve to do things differently than Mom had. To prove that she could follow her dreams, unexpected pregnancy or not, and still make Zoey feel wanted. Which was why she’d worked so hard to finish her degree, and why she’d put her heart and soul into designing the Mountain Ridge cabins.
So that instead of being the girl who had so much potential—the girl who took classes with upperclassmen in high school and was first in her college classes—she would surpass what people thought she could achieve.
As much as she hated to admit it, Grandma had a point. She needed to keep her focus so she wouldn’t end up with regrets or—as Grandma so nicely put it—going a little nutso. “No more excuses, I promise. Architecture firm or bust.”
Which probably meant she needed to push away the visions of her, Cam, and Zoey being the kind of family who spent Sunday afternoons at the park. And she should definitely forget about the ones of putting Zoey to bed and then kissing and cuddling with Cam on the couch.
Or better yet, kissing as they tugged at each other’s clothes and headed toward the bedroom.
Chapter Eleven
“You’re cheating,” Emma said, hammering faster and then reaching for another wooden piece and one of the long nails.
Cam upended the bed frame he was putting together, and she couldn’t believe the king-size wooden frame was all but done, especially since she still had a pile of parts to secure into place. “How so? I’m even putting together the bigger bed.”
“Yeah, but mine has smaller, more complicated pieces.” This cabin was the largest, with the most bedrooms, and after Cam had helped her carry in the boxes, he’d offered to help. They’d decided it’d be easiest to put the bed frames together in the living room, where all the tools already were and there was more space to work, and somewhere along the way, it’d turned into a race to see who could finish faster. “Plus, you have longer legs, which means you can walk around faster.”
“Now I’m being punished for long strides?”
She laughed. “Not punished. Just…” A good way to finish the sentence didn’t come to her.
He squatted down next to her. “Called a cheater.”
“Exactly,” she said, shooting him a smile. They’d talked here and there at work the past few days, but their tasks had usually taken them in opposite directions, and she thought how much more fun work was when she got to do it while talking and laughing with Cam.
He grabbed one of the skinny branch-looking pieces that were going to make up the headboard from her pile and pushed it into place. His arm brushed hers, and his firm chest pressed against her back. “How many of these would I have to do for you to call it an even race?”
His breath skated across her neck, and she attempted to swallow. What she wanted to say was that he’d better do all of them in the name of fairness, especially if he was going to practically wrap his arms around her to do it, but she
was trying not to flirt with him.
But then she glanced over her shoulder and noticed their lips were lined up, a mere inch or two between them, and every other thought flew out of her head.
Is he leaning in? I think he is… She licked her lips, just in case, and she swore his eyes darkened.
Then Pete walked into the open doorway, his footsteps echoing through the room—she hadn’t even realized he was back in town, as he usually alternated about every other week, and he’d spent most of the last one at Mountain Ridge.
Emma quickly reached for another piece, trying to cover up the fact that she’d been about to jump the guy who owned the property they were working on, as that hardly screamed professional.
Well, not the kind of professional she was going for, anyway.
Pete did a double take at Cam, then he wiped his palms on his jeans and turned his focus on her. “Emma, can I talk to you?”
“Of course.” She set down her hammer and dusted off her hands, more out of habit than because they were dirty. Cam had already straightened, and he offered her a hand. Since she figured she could get away with letting him help her to her feet, she took it and stood, telling herself not to keep holding on, even though she wanted to.
After being in a bent position for so long, her knees complained and blood slowly worked its way back through her legs.
With the last few cabins framed, leaving only the small details that Pete usually didn’t deal with, she thought his role here was coming to a close. Hopefully he would give her a big shiny referral so she’d have more options when this job ended. “What’s up?”
Cam moved back over to the king-size frame, the light tap of the hammer filling the air as he went to work finishing it up. The sunshine coming through the window gave his profile a golden glow, and for a second she got caught up in admiring the rugged handyman look he had going on.
“I…” Pete took a deep breath, and then his eyes met hers, a flicker of…was that nervousness? “I was wondering if I could take you out for dinner sometime.”
Emma froze, acutely aware of Cam’s presence in the room. Was it her imagination, or did he start hammering with more vigor?
Vigor? Really, brain? But now that she thought about it, “vigor” was a good word for Cam. Everything about him involved more of it, strength radiating from every inch of his large, muscled frame.
Snap out of it. Pete’s still waiting for your answer. An answer she had no idea how to give, because giving an answer required knowing what it was. “Oh. I. Oh.”
Don’t glance back at Cam, don’t glance back at Cam. She was an independent woman, after all, one who could make her own decisions. Well, after she took Zoey into consideration, of course.
Which made dating complicated. “Can I get back to you? As you know, I’ve got to think about Zoey, and—”
“Of course. If you can’t find a babysitter, we can take her along. I’ve been wanting to get to know you better outside of work, and Zoey’s such a great kid.”
Now she knew she wasn’t imagining it—the hammering was harder and louder, echoing across her skin and beating in time to her heart. The boss side of her wanted to turn and tell him not to drive in the nail too deep or it might split the wood, but she instinctively knew not to mention it at the moment.
“I…need to check my schedule.” Okay, so she could make her own decisions by deciding not to make one yet.
Pete surprised her by reaching out and squeezing her shoulder. “Just let me know when you find a night that works. My other property is all but finished, so I’ve got to spend the rest of the week there, but then I’ll be back by the weekend, and I’m planning on being here more often than not until Mountain Ridge is open for business.”
Unsure what else to do, she nodded. Pete left, and she was scared to turn and look at Cam. She wasn’t sure if she was more scared to see if he was mad that Pete had asked her out or if he didn’t care at all.
Telling herself not to be a wimp, she turned to face him. His gaze was on the bed frame, and it looked like he was about to secure the final piece. She licked her lips, trying to decide what to say.
Maybe she should simply step up next to him and help finish the project. Or did she pick up her own hammer and resume the race so they could get back to joking?
“Emma?” Quinn stepped inside and blinked, probably experiencing that shift of going from the bright light outside to the dimmer interior. “Can I steal you for a minute?”
Emma glanced at Cam one last time, but he’d picked up another nail, and then he was hammering away again, his jaw tight, his muscles flexing with the movement.
Vigor, vigor, vigor. Shaking away those thoughts, she followed Quinn outside the door and down the porch steps, their feet thumping against the raw, unfinished wood. The warm sun baked it, sending the scent of pine through the air.
Once they got to the next cabin over, Quinn held up a fan of paint swatches, several blue shades to choose from. “This is going to be the more family-centric cabin, so I want it to have a calm vacation ambience, but also maintain that mountain, nature feel. Which pops out to you?”
“Did you tell Pete to ask me out?” Emma blurted, her brain unable to play fifty shades of blue right now.
Quinn slowly lowered the swatches. “When I saw that he liked you, I hinted and encouraged, yes, but last week. Before I saw the chemistry between you and Cam on the dance floor.”
“We were just dancing,” Emma said.
“I was there, Emma. Sadie and I both noticed—in fact, we joked that it looked like we didn’t need to find you anyone anymore. Plus, everyone’s been talking about how cozy you two looked at the park together on Sunday.”
“Even if there is some…interest, he just got back, and having a kid together makes it more complicated, and my analytical side says it’s a bad idea. We need to get used to being parents together before we think about crossing any other boundaries.” It was so much easier to be logical without Cam in the same room. At the same time, she wanted Quinn to contradict her, and usually she hated when people did that, because she was right and they should just believe her.
“So, you’re what? Going to go out with Pete?” Quinn asked.
“I told him I’d have to check my schedule, like some kind of super-organized weirdo.”
“Well, you are a super-organized…let’s go with person instead of weirdo. But Pete is, too, so he probably thought it was hot.” Quinn shrugged and laughed, and Emma couldn’t help laughing, too.
But then the reality set in. Pete probably was a better match. She’d tried to be bold and not care about the rules once, and while she wouldn’t take it back because that night had given her Zoey, she’d also decided never to try to be someone else again.
The thought of choosing him over Cam, though? A heaviness entered her chest, not exactly what you wanted when considering a guy. Her heart fluttered over Cam, but she knew she needed her brain to weigh in, too, or she’d end up hurt. “Ugh, I don’t know what to do. Having Cam witness it all made it weird, too—”
“He was there when Pete asked you out?” Quinn asked, her eyebrows shooting sky-high. “Weird.” She opened her mouth then closed it, a contemplative crinkle wrinkling her forehead—she so rarely thought out what she was going to say before she spoke, and that made Emma nervous about what she was going to say. “You’ve got to admire Pete for having the guts to put it out there anyway.”
“Yeah. That was ballsy. Of course, I don’t think he knows that Cam is Zoey’s dad, either. If he’d heard the chatter you obviously have, I doubt he would’ve asked me out.” Emma sighed. “I have a feeling there’s going to be enough gossip swirling around without me dating the out-of-town architect. Without me dating either of them—not that Cam’s asked, just to be clear.”
And if he thought she was dating Pete, he probably wouldn’t. He’d already assumed it from the beginning, which was another sign that she and Pete matched up. Serious girl and serious boy.
But that
pairing didn’t seem to go with her extremely girlie, energetic daughter. In some ways, having Zoey had made Emma more serious, because talk about heaping on responsibilities. But her daughter had also taught her to laugh when things turned out opposite of how you thought they would, and she’d also learned to relax her perfectionist tendencies, especially when it came to things like cleaning the house and cooking, which she was actually pretty good at when she took the time to do it. Why bother spending time on a gourmet dinner, though, when mac and cheese made your dining partner so much happier?
“Hold up the swatches again,” Emma said, not wanting to think about her dating life any more right now. It’d been so long since she’d had one that she didn’t know how to go about it, and it wasn’t like she’d ever been good at it in the first place. Besides, she’d just promised her grandma that she was focused on her career, and she didn’t want to do anything that’d compromise future jobs.
Quinn looked like she wanted to argue, but when Emma crossed her arms, she fanned them out against the wall. They debated a couple of swatches, throwing out the darkest and the lightest.
In the end they went with Ghost Ship Blue, because apparently that was a color. It wasn’t too dark, matched the pale wood, and wouldn’t overwhelm the rustic touches.
By the time they finished picking the rest of the decorations for the cabin, the crew was packing up. She headed back toward the cabin where she and Cam had been racing, hoping to catch him still there.
When she stepped inside, though, he was gone. The bed frames were, too, but a quick check of the rooms revealed he’d already moved them inside. She’d thought they’d each take an end and carry them in.
And now she was getting sad about work already being done when she had a to-do list a mile long.
So she grabbed her toolbox, which had been neatly packed up, and headed toward the beast. She hoped maybe she’d run into Cam on the way out…