by Cindi Madsen
“It is kind of true,” she said through her laughter, then she whipped her hand up over her mouth to cover it.
“Sure, mock me now, but when she’s a little brainiac in school, I’ll be pointing out that it’s all your fault.” He nudged her with his elbow. “Proudly pointing it out.”
“Let’s just hope some of your coolness gets in there somewhere. Because if any little twerps make fun of her, they’re going to have to deal with me.”
“Me, too,” he added, frowning and clenching his fist. No one better ever mess with his princess.
With the book open to a picture of Zoey scowling at the camera, Emma lifted it, holding it next to his face and nodding. “That’s it, all right.”
“Very funny,” he said, poking her in the side. A swirl of warmth went through him at her squeal. It made him want to do it again, but she caught his hand, holding it back and giving him a stern look that only made him want to kiss her.
By the time they got to the end of the book, he’d heard so many cute stories about his daughter, and he couldn’t help admiring Emma for keeping it all together while taking care of Zoey and working to bring in money for her family.
They’d already covered a lot of emotional ground, too, so he decided the talk about his dad could wait. When it came down to it, he knew he’d just needed an excuse to stop by, but now he felt like he didn’t need an excuse. He simply wanted to be here with her, and his bad day had faded away the second he’d walked in the door.
She offered him some ice cream, and he said, “Yes, please,” then pulled the book into his lap, looking at his favorite pictures again. He paused at one of Zoey and Emma, two pretty girls smiling at the camera.
Again, he felt the pressure to make the lodge work so he could take care of his daughter. And Emma, too, he thought before another voice told him he needed to be careful or he was going to get carried away.
When things turned difficult in relationships, women walked away from him. Starting with his mom and ending with his last girlfriend, who had gotten sick of his job, how closed off he was, and all the times he couldn’t be there for her. She’d told him he couldn’t give her what she wanted, and since she’d been talking marriage and a house in the city, he’d agreed. He supposed she was better than the girlfriend before, though, who’d cheated on him while he’d been deployed.
He got that he wasn’t the greener pasture guy and never would be. His goal when he’d come back to Hope Springs was a literal green pasture—or mountainside—to get lost in. Now that he had a daughter, his goals had shifted. Everything in his life had shifted, actually, and he needed to reassess, before hope and the magnetic pull between them got the best of him and he jumped in without thinking.
But as soon as Emma came back into the room, handed him a bowl of ice cream, and took a seat next to him, her vanilla scent filling the air, he thought it might be too late to avoid getting carried away.
Chapter Thirteen
Cam watched Emma grab her lunch box and take a seat at the picnic table. Pete sat right next to her, way too close, and with a big love-struck grin on his face. Despite telling himself that the guy might be better for Emma than he was, he couldn’t take it anymore.
Not after having such a great time with her the past few days, and not when the thought of her with another guy sent a toxic burning through his gut. Not to mention the overwhelming urge to knock the guy out.
I swear, if he lays a hand on her…
Keep your cool. Remember that saying “I just snapped” doesn’t take away the damage. That was something he’d learned from life with Dad, and so he clenched his fists, took a few deep breaths, and slowly exhaled the anger.
Now back in control of his temper, he walked over and held his hand out to Emma. “Come eat with me.” He jerked his head toward the tree line. “Up the trail a bit.”
More than a few pairs of eyes were on them, and the disgruntled look on Pete’s face practically called him rude for interrupting, but he didn’t care. Emma let him pull her to her feet, and then he grabbed her lunch box, keeping her other hand in his as he started toward the greening pines. A few still had brown splotches left over from winter, but each day more color spread, and within a few weeks it’d be green as far as the eye could see.
Once he and Emma reached the top of a small hill, he guided her off to the side, where the perfect picnic rock sat, flat on top and warm from the sun. They pulled out their lunches, and he noticed Emma’s Frozen thermos.
“Like mother, like daughter.”
She shot him a smile. “I couldn’t find mine today, so I stole Zoey’s and gave her a juice box, figuring the sugar would keep her from noticing.”
Cam bit into his ham and cheese sandwich and looked out over the valley. “I used to practically live in these hills. Every chance I could escape, I’d come out here and hike or fish or hunt. Ever since I got back, I have these moments where I look out my window and think, ‘I didn’t dream it. The mountains are now my backyard.’”
“It is a beautiful backyard. I’m happy for you. And Heath.”
“We dreamed up this idea when we were kids. Then I enlisted, and honestly, I thought that’d be my life. Even when Heath and I were exchanging emails about buying the property and everything we could do with it, it didn’t seem real.”
“It’s real, and you deserve it,” she whispered, putting her hand on his, and the dreamlike feeling washed over him. He often woke up expecting desert. Three other guys and makeshift bunk beds crammed in a ten-by-ten room. To get new orders and snap into motion to complete them.
The past few days he hadn’t felt antsy, and he’d managed to keep the bad memories away better than he’d ever done before.
Even in his wildest dreams, he’d never imagined a daughter or a woman like Emma, but he found that being around them helped cut out the noise, and he didn’t want to lose that.
“Don’t go out with him.” It burst from him, too bossy sounding, he knew, but how strongly he felt about her not dating Pete made it hard to be neutral. He cupped her cheek and worked to soften it. “Please. Give me a chance.”
“A chance like…?”
Did she really not see it? Could she not tell by his constant checking her out? Or how he’d intentionally danced, no threat of death or dismemberment required? The way he made excuses to work with her instead of the other guys, and how he’d stopped by her house last night just because? He peered down at her, those lips he’d been having a hard time keeping out of his thoughts calling to him.
Then he lowered his head and kissed her.
Without the fuel of drunken lust, this kiss was much different than their first. It started slow, a tentative brush of lips. But when she reached up and curled her hand around his arm, holding tight, he increased the pressure, parting her lips with his and deepening the kiss.
It was the sweetest kiss he’d ever taken part in by far, but it still made his blood fire hotter.
Then she pulled away, and he immediately missed her lips, her touch. He held his breath, waiting for her to tell him he wasn’t the type of guy she wanted. He knew he fell short on the stability scale, and he was too harsh for her, no doubt, but he wanted her anyway. At least a chance at having her, regardless of telling himself that the last thing he should do was start a relationship. A couple weeks ago he’d been so sure that he didn’t want one, but now…well, everything else had been thrown out the window. What was one more thing?
“This is all happening really fast,” Emma said. “And I’m worried that rushing into something is a bad idea. Think about Zoey. I don’t want to confuse her—she’s getting used to you being her daddy, but you and me together… Then the entire town will probably get involved, adding more pressure. You remember how nosy they all are, right? And if it doesn’t work, it’ll be that much messier.”
It was perfectly logical, which was something he didn’t want to be right now. He wanted to kiss her again. To forget the other crap in his life and focus on the bright spo
ts, one of which was definitely Emma and Zoey. “Do you always worry about hypothetical future problems before they even have a chance to happen?”
“Yes.”
He nodded, letting that sink in for a second and trying to figure out how to respond. Do the smart thing? Or forget about rules—which was definitely the more tempting of the options. “I’ve had almost every day of my life planned out for me since I was eighteen, so to be honest, I don’t want plans. But what I do want is to feel like I’m starting to live again.”
Cam reached up and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, dragging his thumb across the top of her cheek as he did so. She closed her eyes, like she was soaking in the moment, then opened them and locked them onto his.
“I like you, Emma,” he whispered. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“I…I like you, too.”
“So we’ll go slow. Take it a day at a time. We don’t even have to let anyone else know we’re trying it. If anything, we owe it to Zoey to see if we can work it out.”
She tipped her head one way and then the other, like she was mentally weighing her options. “I suppose that’s a good point. And I do have fun with you—honestly, I can’t stop thinking about you, either.”
A smile tugged at his lips, and he let it break free. Then he leaned down and kissed her again. This time, she didn’t hesitate. She responded quickly, bracing her hand against his chest as she leaned into the kiss, both actions making his heart thump faster and harder under her palm.
His life was all dreams right now, and he hoped he never woke up.
Chapter Fourteen
Emma pulled her hair up, frowned at her reflection, and shook it out. Then she put on makeup, lining her eyes in brown, and after she’d swiped on mascara, she pulled half her hair up, teasing it at the crown before securing the hairdo with a couple of bobby pins.
Excitement had zipped through her in bursts every time she thought about a night out with just her and Cam, but her nerves had also punished her all day long, to the point she’d had trouble concentrating on even the smallest task. She’d boiled dry a pot of macaroni and had to start Zoey’s dinner over, and a smoky smell still hung in the air, even after opening every window and running the fan.
The other reason for her absentmindedness and nerves was because her brain had decided to focus on one of her biggest fears: What if we get out alone and he realizes that I’m not just boring because we’ve had to spend most of our time with a toddler in tow, but because I’m just boring?
Scolding herself for letting the downer thought poke its way in, despite her resolve to shut it out, she slicked on shimmery lip gloss, pressed her lips together, and let out an exhale. This was her, take it or leave it. In fact, when she had the time to do hair and makeup and wear clothes that weren’t for work and covered with whatever food Zoey had eaten, she actually liked what she saw in the mirror.
Zoey paused in the doorway and peered up at her. “Mommy looks pretty,” she said, and Emma bent down and rewarded her with a kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you. Mommy needed to hear that.”
The doorbell rang, and butterflies swarmed her gut. She tossed her lip gloss into the drawer, shut it with her hip, and went to answer the door. She’d asked Cam if she should see if Madison could babysit again, even though she’d done it last night for girls’ night, but Cam said he’d already taken care of it.
Before Emma could greet Cam, Heath, and Quinn, Zoey shot past her and flung herself at Cam. “Daddy!”
He tossed her into the air, her ever-present tutu flaring out—high enough that Emma flinched, sure her daughter would hit the ceiling. But of course she didn’t, and Zoey released a happy squeal. Cam caught her and kissed her cheek, right over the spot where some of Emma’s shimmery kiss mark remained.
Emma quickly showed Quinn and Heath around, went over everything she thought they’d need to know and then some, and then hugged Zoey good-bye.
Cam hugged her next, and she protested at his leaving, tugging on his hand and whining for him to play dolls with her. He bribed her like a champ, with the promise of Frozen and Lucky Charms—and once she was distracted by Quinn and the big red box with the leprechaun on the front—they made their getaway.
As soon as they stepped onto the porch, Emma sucked in what felt like her first full breath of the night. Cam put his hand on the small of her back. “You look nice.”
“Thanks,” she said. Then she let herself check him out, the jeans, button-down shirt, and scruff. “You look nice, too. You’re taking advantage of the no-shaving thing, I see.”
He grinned and shook his hair, which was also getting longer. “No regulation haircuts or rules about shaving is pretty sweet. Besides, I’ve got to pull off the mountain man look for when people show up for the lodge. Who’s going to trust some clean-shaven guy who looks like he works at a desk?”
“Not me,” she said with a laugh, and she wanted to reach up and run her hand down his whiskered cheek, but she wasn’t quite bold enough.
So far they’d stuck with flirting and a couple of sweet kisses when they could get away with it at work, staying in relatively conservative territory. Vastly different from their first night together, when they’d fast-forwarded past the little gestures and getting-to-know-each-other chats and slid right into home plate. Which was perfect, because she certainly wasn’t ready for that step anyway—even though her body often forgot the memo, like now, when heat was radiating out from Cam’s touch and sending her pulse racing.
He helped her into the truck then climbed in behind the steering wheel. “I’ve got a plan, but the place I want to take you is in the next town over. Hope you don’t mind a bit of a drive.”
Cam frowned at the distance between them, grabbed her hand, and tugged her until she was right next to him on the bench seat. Then he curled his fingers around her knee.
A drive sitting next to him, inhaling his musky cologne and feeling her skin hum under his touch? She didn’t mind if the drive took all night.
…
Cam pulled up to the large park, glancing toward the area where people were taking blankets and chairs, and noting they’d arrived with thirty minutes to spare until the first band went onstage. “Is this lame? I searched for something going on this weekend, but there weren’t a whole lot of options, and Heath suggested this place. But we can go somewhere else if you think it’s lame.”
“Are you kidding me?” Emma scooted closer to the windshield, twisting her neck so that she was looking over at the carnival area, where the Ferris wheel rose up over the rest of the spinning rides. “I love carnivals! I’m usually overly cautious, but carnival rides are, like, contained risk. I can let my thrill-seeking side loose in a contained, safe environment.”
“I don’t know that I’d call carnival rides safe. If you think about how many times they’ve been unassembled and reassembled, and the little training that goes into—”
She smacked his arm. “Don’t ruin this for me! It’s my only thrill-seeking activity, and I don’t want to think about consequences or safety.”
Another thrill-seeking activity popped into his head, desire going through him now that the heat of her thigh was seeping into his and that tempting mouth of hers was so close. He reached up and brushed his thumb across her lower lip, the desire surging at her sharp inhale.
“Okay. I won’t ruin this.” He decided not to tell her that he’d planned on listening to a couple of bands while they sat in the grass and had had no idea there’d be a carnival set up right next to it. Honestly, the last thing he wanted to do was go toward the flashing lights and inevitable screams from the riders, but she was so happy that he couldn’t bring himself to say he’d only brought her here to listen to music in the park.
He peered into her big brown eyes, the makeup she’d put on emphasizing one of his favorite features of hers even more, and he couldn’t help leaning down and giving her a quick kiss—one of many he planned on giving her tonight. Then he grabbed h
er hand and scooted out of the truck, pulling her with him.
As they neared the ticket booth, he laced his fingers with hers. Warmth flooded his chest when she squeezed his hand and flashed him a smile.
The scent of fried food grew stronger, and he noticed the food trailer nearby, which was the only part of the carnival he could totally get down with. He bought a book of tickets, slid them in his front pocket, and glanced down at Emma. “Did you want to grab some food first?”
“What are you, a carnival rookie? Rides, then food.” Tightening her grip on his hand, she pulled him toward the zipper. Even though he disliked confined spaces, he’d ridden plenty of rides before, and even used to brag that none of them scared him. But now he was thinking too much about the shoddy workmanship, wondering how long they’d taken to put together the contraption, and if they’d tightened every bolt, and suddenly he wished for the invincible feeling from his youth.
This might be the stupidest idea I’ve ever had.
But as they stood in line, Emma bounced on the balls of her feet, excitement radiating off her. When it came their turn to load, she practically sprinted onto the ride. Then they were both belted in, together in a metal death trap, and she gave a squeal and kissed his cheek.
And he decided he’d ride every stupid ride if it made her this happy.
As soon as the ride jolted into motion, though, he immediately regretted everything. Emma obviously didn’t feel the same, considering the way she laughed and rocked the cage they were in, making it spin even more. When the metal bar shifted—only a few inches, but still—he threw out his arm and held Emma in place.
“Oh my gosh, you’re totally soccer momming me,” she said with a laugh.
The ride threw them forward, and the shift was enough to push her breasts against his arm. He tried not to think about that, but it was kind of hard not to notice the way her curves pressed into him as they slid and spun, their bodies bumping together. He refused to let her go, despite her mocking him, too. Just in case the bar didn’t work well enough.