by Donya Lynne
Little Things©
Copyright 2016 Donya Lynne
Phoenix Press LLC
ISBN: 978-1-938991-20-2
Cover by Pink Ink Designs
www.pinkinkdesigns.com
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment and may not be resold or distributed without the author’s express consent. Contact the author at [email protected].
References to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, persons, or locales, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Did You Enjoy This Book?
Excerpt from Good Karma
Acknowledgements
Books By Donya Lynne
About Donya Lynne
Connect with Donya Lynne
“Little things make big things happen.”
-John Wooden
Chapter 1
“Are they here yet?” I call as I blow through the front door.
I drop my car keys and book bag on the couch then rush into the kitchen, where my mom is pulling golden-brown shortbread cookies from the oven. They’re shaped like snowmen and Christmas trees.
She closes the oven door and gives me what I call her pacifying mom look. Her head is tilted to one side, her eyebrows raised. The appeasing grin that curls her lips is one she’s worn for as long as I can remember. The one that says she’s learned she can’t dissuade my overly eager anticipation and has accepted it as part of my genetic makeup, even though it occasionally gets on her nerves.
“Are they here yet?” I ask again as I drop my Highland Creek letter jacket on a barstool and dip my finger in a bowl of red frosting.
The arched brow and cockeyed smile my mom gives me bleeds amused impatience. “Did you see your brother’s car in the driveway?”
I suck the frosting off my finger. I hate when my mom answers a question with a question. “No, but that doesn’t mean they’re not here. They could have been here and left to go get something to eat.”
My mom transfers the hot cookies to a cooling rack. A large platter of elaborately decorated cookies already sits at the end of the counter. Knowing how my mom channels the holiday spirit better than Santa Claus, she’s probably been baking and decorating all day.
She gives me another of her mom looks. The one that says she knows why I’m so interested in whether my brother and his best friend are here, yet. “No, Cameron,” she says in a slightly singsong voice, “Nick and Gunner haven’t arrived, yet. You still have time to do your hair and makeup and change into that pretty new outfit you bought last week.” She smiles knowingly as she begins rolling out another batch of cookie dough.
Busted.
I bite the inside of my bottom lip to keep from smiling, feeling the heat infiltrate my cheeks.
“Go on,” my mom says. “Get changed. And you’d better hurry. I have a feeling they’ll be here any minute.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Nick texted a couple hours ago.” She sets aside her rolling pin and grabs a Christmas tree cookie cutter. “They were a little over two hours away. So you’d better hurry if you want to look good for Gunner.” She winks.
A rush of electricity flies through me. He’s almost here.
I slide off the barstool, my heart beating so hard at the thought of seeing Gunner again that it’s a wonder I don’t pass out. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
My mom rolls her eyes and laughs. “Sure you don’t.”
With a giggle, I steal a cookie from the platter and dart out of the kitchen, taking the stairs two at a time to my bedroom. I bring up the music app on my phone, and within seconds, Joe Jonas is blasting through my Bluetooth speaker, singing about eating cake by the ocean.
The new outfit I bought specifically for today is hanging in the front of my closet. I snag it from the rack and toss it on my bed before running into the Jack-and-Jill bathroom that connects my room to my older sister’s. Wendy moved out a couple of years ago, though, and we’ve converted her room to a guest room, so the bathroom is more or less mine now. Which is awesome. What eighteen-year-old girl doesn’t want her own bathroom?
I turn on the shower then strip out of my school clothes like they’re on fire before stepping under the falling water. My hands are actually shaking as I fumble for the bottle of floral-scented body wash and squeeze out a generous dollop on my loofah.
I’ve been in love with my brother’s best friend, Gunner, since the sixth grade, when he came over to play basketball with Nick one night after school. His family had just moved into the neighborhood, and it was the first time I saw him. And what an impression he made. Shirtless. Shooting hoops with Nick. I stared out the window from the upstairs study nook for over an hour, watching him. I haven’t been able to look at another boy since.
What’s not to love about Gunner? Eyes the color of the ocean at midnight under a full moon. Thick, dark-brown hair that’s always a little mussed in a way that makes me want to comb my fingers through it. A body that’s long and lean in all the right ways. And a straight-toothed smile that makes his dimples pop when he laughs.
He's perfection. Absolute, hot-bodied perfection.
If only I could catch his eye as something other than Nick’s baby sister. I have a feeling that no matter how old I get, I’ll always be “little Cami” to Gunner.
But I want him to see me as Cameron, his best friend’s hot sister. Cameron, the gorgeous woman little Cami grew into.
I turned eighteen last month, so I can call myself a woman now.
The point is, that’s how I want Gunner to see me. As a woman. Not the gangly, dorky, freckle-faced kid he met six years ago. Back then, I was boobless, hipless, and clueless.
In a lot of ways, I still am clueless, but at least my curves have come in. A little late, but better late than never. Having to wear the equivalent of a training bra until the beginning of junior year was mortifying. Talk about a nightmare in the locker room. Undressing in front of thirty other girls who all had big—at least big compared to me—perky breasts after gym class was my least favorite part of the day during sophomore year. Now I’m a senior, and I’m not so gun-shy around the other girls. My boobs may not be what could be called big, but they are perky.
And I love them. When I look at them in the mirror, I understand why guys are so fascinated with them.
Not mine, of course. I’m talking about boobs in general. No boys have seen mine, yet. I’ve sort of been saving them for Gunner. Crazy, I know, since he’s shown absolutely no interest in me. But I can’t help it. He’s the only boy I want.
But I can’t technically call him a boy, anymore, especially when he’ll be twenty next month. Gunner’s a man. A full-grown, oh-my-God-he’s-so-hot man.
He’s also a Capricorn. I’m a Scorpio. According to the astrology books I read when I was younger, that means we’re compatible. I already know this. Now I need him to see it.
The good news is that the last time I texted with my brother, he said Gunner broke up with the girl he’d been dating at Ohio State. She was a Libra. Totally incompatible with a Capricorn. I’m not surprised they didn’t work out.
And I’m not surprised the other girls before he
r didn’t work out, either. None of them are as good for him as I could be.
Maybe I’m being a little neurotic. But I just know Gunner and I would be good together. We both like basketball, listen to the same music, think science fiction movies are the best, and have quirky senses of humor. And we’re both honor roll students. At least, Gunner was before he graduated two years ago and went to college.
The problem is, Gunner has his pick of the litter. His status at Highland Creek High School was so legendary that half the girls there are still in love with him. He and Nick are sophomores at Ohio State now, but that doesn’t mean Gunner stopped being the dream of every girl living in Highland Creek.
And he’s spending Christmas break at our house.
I’m the luckiest girl on earth.
After drying off, I wrap my towel around me and begin combing my hair, humming along with Ariana Grande’s “Into You” as it blares from my room. My hair is long and thick, and I wasn’t exactly gentle when I washed it, so it’s more tangled than usual, but I quickly tame it.
I’m about to take off my towel and rush back to my bedroom to get dressed when the door to Wendy’s room opens.
I spin, wide-eyed, holding the towel over the front of my body as I come face-to-face with Gunner.
My breath catches as my gaze locks to his.
“I’m sorry, I . . .” He begins to back away then stops as his gaze steamrolls down my body. “I didn’t know you were in here.”
I can’t speak. All I can do is stand in the middle of my bathroom, frozen, with only a towel and a lot of empty air separating us.
His gaze climbs my legs, then lands on the towel as if he can see through it. He blinks as his eyes meet mine again, and his eyebrows pinch curiously over the bridge of his nose.
He’s even better looking than he was the last time I saw him, which was back in August, before he and Nick packed the car and returned to Ohio State for the new term. His hair is shorter, but still mussed. Still thick. Still touch-me sexy. And the shadow of a trimmed beard outlines his jaw. That’s new. I’ve never seen him with facial hair. I like it. It’s dangerous in a sexy way.
He’s bigger, too. Not fat. Muscular. He looks like a fitness model. Just . . . wow. His sculpted biceps stretch the fabric of his short sleeves, and his jeans hang more loosely than I remember from his tapered waist. The veins on his hands and forearms are even more pronounced, as if he’s trimmed off a layer of body fat.
Looks like Gunner has definitely lost his freshman five and then some, but damn, every time I see Gunner, he grows more good-looking. More like a man.
What am I saying? He is a man.
He blinks again, and it’s like he’s waking up from a daze. He hooks his thumb over his shoulder, which makes his biceps pop. I might have just drooled a little. “I’ll just, uh . . . I’ll use the hall bathroom.”
The door shuts with an abrupt click, and, just like that, he’s gone.
I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
I didn’t say a word. Not hello. Not how are you. Not it’s nice to see you again. Not even it’s okay that you barged in on me while I was practically naked.
Like a silly teenager, I remained mute in the face of what could have been a revolutionary moment.
But I think he finally saw me. Really saw me.
Maybe now I won’t just be Nick’s baby sister anymore.
Chapter 2
Dinner is about as comfortable as being rubbed with steel wool. After what happened in my bathroom, I can’t even look at Gunner, although I can feel him watching me.
I dare a peek at him from the corner of my eye between nibbles of mashed potatoes. For a heartbeat, our gazes meet, and then he glances down at his plate.
Meanwhile, my mom and dad are blathering on about all the holiday parties they need to attend in the next couple of weeks. Not only does Dad’s work hold a huge gala every December, but just about every organization my mom does charitable work for is having a party, too. They’ll be lucky if they spend more than two nights at home between now and Christmas Eve.
Across from me, Nick is texting his girlfriend, who he hasn’t seen since August. Every couple of minutes, he grins or lets out an amused snort. I’m sure they’ll be spending a lot of time together now that he’s home.
“How’s school?” Gunner says, his deep voice cutting through the chatter.
I look up, surprised to realize he’s talking to me. But who else would he ask about school? My parents? Not. And he probably sees Nick every day and doesn’t need to ask him how school’s going.
I gnaw my bottom lip as I feel my face heat. “Fine.”
“Still playing basketball?”
I nod.
“She’s the team’s leading scorer,” my mom chimes in with a wink my way.
Gunner’s eyebrows lift as he sits a little taller. “I’m impressed. Must be all the times you played hoops with Nick and me.” He bobs his head in the direction of the half court in the backyard.
“Maybe,” I say quietly.
Funny how when he’s not around, I can think of a million witty things to say, but when he is, my brain and my voice take a vacation.
I’ve been plagued with horrible shyness all my life, which is crazy for someone as competitive as I am in sports and academics. It’s not that I don’t have anything to say, it’s just that I’m usually too shy to say it. Dad says I’ll grow out of it once I go to college and get out in the world. He was the same way when he was younger, but seeing him now, you’d never know it. He’s a brilliant businessman and the epitome of confidence.
Gunner cuts into the last bite of his chicken. “Maybe if the weather breaks, you and I can play a game. You can show me your moves.” His crooked grin cuts the dimples into his cheeks.
My face blazes again. “Yeah, okay.”
It’s been bleak and drizzly for two days, and we’re forecast to get sleet overnight, but we might reach sixty degrees in a few days. What can I say? December in North Carolina can be a meteorologist’s nightmare. Freezing one day, warm enough for a T-shirt the next. If Gunner is serious about shooting hoops with me, there’s a good chance the weather will cooperate at least once in the next three weeks while he’s here.
Nick drops his napkin on his empty plate and pushes away from the table. “I’m out. I’m picking up Missy in thirty minutes. We’re going to a movie.”
Mom pouts in protest. “But you just got home.”
He downs the rest of his iced tea and plunks the glass on the table. “Mom, I’ll be home for three weeks. There’ll be plenty of time for us to visit. Missy leaves for her grandparents’ in a few days, so I want to spend some time with her.”
Nick is super serious about Missy. It’s just a matter of time before he pops the question, which my mom wants more than anything, so I can already tell she’ll cave in three, two, one . . .
“Fine, honey,” Mom says in surrender. She takes Nick’s hand and squeezes it. “Just make sure you bring her by the house before she leaves so we can visit.”
“I will.” Nick bends and kisses her cheek then bolts up the stairs to get ready.
My mom rises and begins clearing the dishes. “Do you have any plans while you’re back, Gunner?”
He sets his silverware on the plate and leans back. “Not really.” He glances at me. “I haven’t thought much about anything other than taking a break from school and getting some rest.” He turns toward my dad then looks between him and my mom. “By the way, thank you for letting me stay here over the holiday.”
His dad was sent overseas on business last week, and his mother went with him. According to Nick, they offered to fly Gunner over for the holiday, but he declined when Nick told him he was welcome to stay with us.
“Of course.” My mom starts for the kitchen with her hands full of dishes. “That’s better than spending the holiday alone, and I know we’re all very happy to have you. Right, Cameron?” She shoots me a pointed smile, sending flames through my fa
ce again.
“Uh, yeah.” I nod briskly, biting my lip.
Everyone helps clear the table, and I help my mom clean the kitchen while Gunner and my dad head off to look for a game on TV. Nick breezes through a few minutes later, grabbing a baggie of decorated cookies to give to Missy. After a quick kiss on Mom’s cheek, he’s out the door and probably won’t be home until after midnight.
My mom sprays down the counter and begins wiping it off. “Gunner’s grown into quite the attractive young man, hasn’t he?” she says quietly.
I glance toward the living room. Gunner and my dad are talking football, so they’re completely absorbed.
I meet my mom’s eyes and catch the girlish giggle before it can leave my throat. “I can’t believe he’s going to be here for three weeks.”
She starts the dishwasher. “Yeah, and three weeks will be gone before you know it, so scoot.” She gestures for me to leave the kitchen. “Don’t waste your time in here with me.”
“I can’t just go out there.”
“Why not? This is your house. You can go wherever you want.”
“You know what I mean.”
She wipes her hands, grabs a clean plate from the cabinet, and then hands it to me. “Take them some cookies.” She nods toward the full platter on the counter. “Go on.”
I glance from Gunner to my mom and back again.
“Go, Cameron.” She dips her head pointedly at the platter.
I take a deep breath, and with trembling hands, I arrange a variety of cookies on the plate, give my mom one last glance for courage, then head into the living room.
“Do you want some cookies?” I set the plate on the coffee table, eyes downcast, then take a seat on the far end of the couch as casually as I can.
I don’t know why I’m suddenly so nervous around Gunner. He’s been coming around for years. He’s as much my friend as Nick’s. It’s just that I’ve always wanted him to be so much more.
But it’s more than that. Something about Gunner is different. I felt it the moment our eyes met in my bathroom. Not only has his appearance changed, but something in his energy has changed, too. The air around him vibrates with a supercharged current that makes my heart beat harder.