by Cate Cameron
“We could just order takeout,” he said.
She peered up at him then. “I could learn to cook if I wanted to,” she said firmly. “It really can’t be that hard. There’s probably classes I could take. And if there aren’t, then I could find a teacher and start the classes. Cooking is not impossible.”
No, nothing was impossible. Not for Zara, not once she put her mind to it. “I just meant I didn’t care about the cooking. If I had to choose between you spending your energy on that or your energy on something else, the something else might win.”
“Really? What kind of ‘something else’ did you have in mind?” He could hear the laughter in her voice, but the beginning of a little heat, too. They should probably get the hell out of the park soon.
“Scarf manufacturing maybe. Or flower arranging, or dog training, or fishing or kayaking or whatever else you might want to do. I want you to have everything you want. Always.”
“I already do,” she murmured.
And public park or not, he couldn’t let that pass without a serious kiss. She was ready for him, twisting around and reaching up to wrap her hands around his neck as their mouths connected. She was Zara, and she was with him. He was what she wanted. That was all he needed to know.
Twenty-five
“WE SHOULD JUST stay here tonight,” Zara said. She was curled up on Cal’s couch, warm and cozy. She didn’t want to go anywhere.
“Wait, what? Stay here in my hobbit house?”
“Oh my God, I honestly didn’t think you even noticed I’d said that. It wasn’t meant as an insult. It’s nice here. Like a house for fashionable hobbits.”
“My house isn’t for hobbits,” Cal said. He came over from the kitchen, Max trotting along adoringly behind him. The dog had been with them for a week, staying at Cal’s or the rental while Zara finalized the purchase of her new place, and he’d already figured out who was in charge of food. His loyalty had been clear from that moment on.
“There’s nothing wrong with hobbits,” Zara said, reaching a hand out to scratch Max’s ears.
But Cal wasn’t ready to move on. “Hobbits are small. My house is full sized.”
“Hobbits are fictional. Maybe everything else in their imaginary world was huge, and they’d be normal size for our world.”
“I don’t think that’s right. Also, my house isn’t underground. I think hobbits live in burrows.”
Zara gave an exaggerated sigh. “Hobbits don’t live anywhere, they’re not real. But fine. Hobbits shouldn’t live here. I was just trying to say that it’s a bit small, but in a cozy way. Homey.”
“Oh. I think, for future reference, that you could just say ‘cozy’ or ‘homey.’ I don’t think you need to bring hobbits into it.”
She slid off the couch and stood in front of him, then laced her fingers together behind his neck. It was nice to just hang off him, trusting him to hold her up. “Is this us, in the future? Just hanging out, bickering about hobbits?”
“Maybe. I think I’d be okay if it was.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I’d be okay if it was, too.”
“But not right now,” he said quickly. “Because we have a commitment.”
She made a face. “Hey, maybe we could go to Woody’s instead! You’ve been wanting me to go to Woody’s! Or maybe we could invite Zane over. Make sure he’s okay. I’ve been a little worried—”
“No, you haven’t. Zane’s fine and you know it. And we’re going to Woody’s to watch Anna Cade’s title fight. She’s going to win it, obviously, and you’re going to see the whole damn town not care. You’re going to see them not change their mind about you. And when you’re training to take her on and get the title back? You’re going to have the whole town behind you, cheering you on, and that’s going to make you even more powerful than you were before.”
“You’ve got it all planned out, huh?”
“Absolutely. Submitted for your approval, of course, but that’s just a technicality. This is one more of my brilliant plans, and you’ll agree to it because you’re brilliant enough to see its value.”
She laughed, but didn’t argue. “So, no Woody’s tonight. Could we stay here, and, like, push bamboo shoots under our fingernails? ’Cause in comparison to dinner with your family . . .”
“My mom stood up for you.”
“Dinner with your mom would be fine.”
“Well, let’s go say hi to my mom, and maybe have a drink, and then since we’re there anyway, we might as well have some dinner, right?” She looked at him doubtfully, and he smiled at her, sweet and easy. “You don’t have to come,” he said. “You can stay here in the hobbit hole, all snug and warm, and I’ll go, make an appearance, and come back as fast as I can. They’re my family—my problem.”
Nicely played. Excellent, subtle guilt tripping. “No, I’ll come.” She leaned over and ruffled the long fur on Max’s neck. “You’ll miss us, right? But you’ll guard the house?”
The dog didn’t disagree, so the humans pulled on winter boots and jackets, and then Cal grabbed the black heels Zara had left by the stairs to be sure they came along. She raised her eyebrows and he shrugged. “They’re hot,” he said. “Dinner isn’t going to be too much fun for me, either, you know. So at least if you’re wearing heels, I can think about that and be a bit distracted.”
“Sure is great that we’re doing this,” Zara groused. But she caught his hand as they walked out to the car, and he gave her a kiss before she slid into the passenger seat.
They drove quietly through the snow-covered streets, their headlights picking out familiar landmarks and then washing right over them, as if they didn’t exist when the car wasn’t pointed in their direction. As if the world was just there for Zara and Cal to look at. It would be nice to live in that sort of a bubble for a while, she decided. But probably not something that either of them would want long-term.
They pulled into the driveway and right up to the front door. It felt strange to be coming to the house as a guest, and Zara gripped Cal’s hand a little more tightly than usual. The drive and the walkway had been carefully shoveled and salted, but a chilly wind blew in to remind them of the season. So they hurried for the front door, which Cal knocked on once, then pushed open.
“Hello,” he called.
When there was no immediate answer, Zara turned to him, her eyes bright. “Maybe they forgot! We could just—”
“Stop that,” he said. “Here’s your shoes. I’ll take your coat. Then we’ll go find them.”
Zara grudgingly complied and they walked back past the formal living room with its white-on-white color scheme. It was a relief to know they wouldn’t be sitting in there, where Zara was almost guaranteed to spill something. They headed down a wide, wood-panelled hall, past several doors halfopen to rooms too dark to inspect, and then Cal said, “This was always my favorite room, when I lived here.”
He pushed the door open and Zara saw the blazing fire, the billiard table with a game in progress, the bar, with drinks on it . . . but no people. Perfect.
“Come on in,” Cal said, and Zara did, and then it happened.
“Surprise!” they all yelled, pouring out from behind furniture and the bar, and from around the corners. “Welcome back!”
Cal’s family was there, even Michael, although he was looking sour about the whole thing. Of course. The others were more important anyway. Zane was there, and Josh and Ashley, and most of the stitch and bitchers, and the women’s MMA class. There were a few other people from the community center, and that was all. It wasn’t a big crowd. But it was big enough. It was enough to remind her that she had a place here, and people who cared about her and were happy to have her back. That was the only thing that mattered.
Zane was the first to give Zara a hug and a kiss, and then there was a lineup of others waiting to greet her. She’d been celebrated before, after big
wins, interviewed and admired and photographed. But she’d never felt this sort of genuine warmth, never felt that people were happy about who she was rather than what she’d done. She tried to soak it all in, and eventually made her way back over to Cal, dazed but happy.
“Nice to feel wanted?” he suggested.
“It feels nice to feel wanted by you,” she said. “The rest of it? Yeah, it’s nice, too. But I came back here for you, Cal. I’m staying here for you.”
He moved fast, grabbing her and pulling her close, and they both ignored the surprise and amusement of the crowd. “For you,” she repeated, and he kissed her.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Thank you,” she returned. She smiled at him, and he smiled back at her. Their fingers were entwined, their bodies close. It was all she could ever want. Everything else was details. She and Cal would handle them together.
KEEP READING FOR A PREVIEW OF CATE CAMERON’S LAKE SULLIVAN NOVEL
Just a Summer Fling
AVAILABLE NOW FROM BERKLEY SENSATION!
JOSH WONDERED IF he would have had the self-control to say no if Jasmine McArthur hadn’t been sitting over at her table watching them with such wicked interest. If it had just been him and Ashley. She’d been tipsy, maybe, but not really drunk. And, damn it, she was a beautiful woman. Long auburn hair, dancing green eyes, and a hell of a body. It was too bad that she was an actress, but everyone had faults.
And now, in the bar, she wasn’t acting like a spoiled movie star. They were working through their alphabet of Vermont hazards. “M” had been easy, both of them saying “mosquitoes” at the same time and then moving on. “N,” though?
“‘Norwegians?’” Josh suggested. “There are a lot of them up here. But they’re ex-Norwegians. They came generations ago. And I don’t know if they’re a hazard, exactly. Not all of them.”
“I think Norwegians are a noble people. Not a hazard. And I already let you have ‘Dutch’ for ‘D.’ This list is serious business, Josh! It can’t just be an excuse for you to slam different countries of origin.”
Josh nodded. “Yeah, okay. That’s fair. So . . . ‘N.’ Maybe ‘neighbors’? Mine are okay, but only because they’re distant. Most people up here like their space.”
“I guess that’s why you’d live here.” She nodded as if pleased to have an answer to the question of why anyone would settle in such a godforsaken land. But then she smiled and he wondered if he was being a little oversensitive. She liked the lake, after all. “Okay, ‘neighbors.’ What’s ‘O’?”
But that was when Jasmine arrived. Josh smelled her familiar perfume before she’d even tucked her hand into the back of his jeans, that familiar claim of ownership that he hated so much. He reached behind him to pull her hand out, but he tried to do it subtly. Ashley couldn’t see what was going on back there and he’d just as soon she not know about it.
“So, you two are getting along?” Jasmine asked. Her smile was sharp. “I was just going to call for the car. For myself. Josh, can I trust you to make sure Ashley gets home safely? Eventually?”
She’d taken her hand out from inside his jeans but now she had it resting on the curve of his ass, her fingers digging in a little where they wrapped underneath. How many people in the bar were seeing that? Seeing her treat him like a possession that she could paw at will, or give away to her friends if the whim struck her?
He stepped away from her entirely. She and her husband had a lot of friends, and most of those friends were Josh’s clients. He really couldn’t afford to alienate her, but he wasn’t going to stand there and let her molest him, either. “I’m just about to head out myself,” he said, working to keep his voice light and calm. “Ashley, maybe you want to go with Jasmine?”
She nodded slowly. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Oh,” Jasmine said. Her disappointment was a little too blatant to be real. The emotions Jasmine displayed for public consumption rarely had any relationship to her actual feelings; Josh had learned that the hard way. “But you two seemed to be getting along so well. Do you just need a little more time? I don’t have to leave now. . . .”
“No,” Josh said firmly. He didn’t want to get dragged into whatever the hell this was. “Like I said, I’m about to go.” He set his empty glass down on the bar and nodded. “Ashley, it was nice to meet you. Enjoy your stay in hazardous Vermont. Be safe.”
She grinned at him. Damn, he liked her smile. And he liked how often she used it.
“I’ll try. I’m a little worried that I haven’t identified all of the risks yet. If I’m approached by something from ‘A’ to ‘N,’ I feel like I’ll be prepared. But if something from ‘O’ on attacks . . .”
Jasmine laughed. “You two have a little game! How adorable!”
Josh was not a fan of being called “adorable,” and from the expression on Ashley’s face he could tell she felt the same. So he smiled just at Ashley as he said, “We are pretty fucking cute.”
“Might as well accept it,” she replied, and her shoulder shrug was a lot more relaxed than it would have been a moment earlier. Somehow, in that quick second, they’d become a team. The two of them united against Jasmine.
And Jasmine could tell. “Fine, then,” she said, her joking tone gone. “Ashley, if you’re coming with me, let’s go. Josh, I really would like the path through the trees re-mulched as soon as possible. I asked you to do that several days ago. And there are some boards on the dock that are rotting. We need them replaced before someone puts a foot through them.”
Yeah. Good reminder of his place in their social structure. He told himself to be grateful for it. “I can try to get to the dock tomorrow—you’ve got some extra boards in your boathouse, so it won’t take long to replace a few weak ones. I’ll probably get to the mulch early next week. Everyone came up this week and found a lot of stuff they want done, so I’m working through the list as quickly as I can.”
“Most of the names on that list are there because we referred you to them. Why don’t you do the boards and the mulch tomorrow?”
Another good reminder. So he made himself smile. “I appreciate the referrals. But the mulch is a bigger job, and nobody’s going to get hurt if a path isn’t mulched. So it’s lower priority.”
“It would be a shame if we had to find someone else to recommend to people.”
Okay, there had to be an end to it. “If you can find someone else who does work of my quality at my price, I guess they deserve your support.” He stepped backward, disengaging from the conversation, then said, “Good night,” and turned for the parking lot.
He was halfway to the door when he felt a warm hand catch his, and he turned to see Ashley looking tentative but determined. “Good night,” she said quickly, and she brought her free hand to the back of his neck and pulled his head down. She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Thank you.”
It made no sense to let her go. He wanted to drag her out of there. No, not drag her—pick her up and carry her. But she’d been drinking, and Jasmine was . . . Jasmine was Jasmine. Always playing her games by rules only she knew. Josh wasn’t interested in being her pawn anymore, and he felt a bit protective about Ashley, too. He had no idea what Jasmine was up to, but Ashley shouldn’t get dragged into whatever it was.
“It was nice to meet you,” he said, and he gently eased out of her grip.
She blinked and let him go. “I’m here for another week,” she said. “Until next Friday. Do you think maybe—”
“This is the busy season for me,” he said quickly. “Paths to mulch, you know? Very important stuff. No time for much else.”
Another blink. “Okay,” she said.
She sounded sad, but he bet he could kiss her into a better mood without much trouble. Except he wasn’t supposed to be thinking that way. He knew better. “Good night, Ashley.” He turned before she could say anyth
ing else that tempted him to do something different. He was dimly aware of people watching him, trying to figure out why the hell he was walking away from the woman behind him. It was a small town and half the bar knew who he was. They knew he’d made different decisions in similar situations in the past.
Ironic, he supposed, that he gave up on summer women right before he met one who seemed like she might be something a bit more. But he shook his head as he headed out the door and toward his pickup. Ashley was in town until Friday. Had he lost his mind, thinking there was going to be something more that developed over that time? Summer women were transient. For a while, that had been their biggest charm. But he was too old for that crap now, and he was tired of being the one getting left behind when they went back to their glamorous city lives.
“You heading out early?” he heard, and turned to see Theo standing just outside the bar door. It was the smoking area, but Josh had never seen Theo actually light up—he probably figured just being around smokers was enough of a nod to the rock ’n’ roll lifestyle. “Had enough already?”
“I guess so, yeah. I’m getting too old for it maybe.”
“Ninety percent of the guys in the bar would have cut off a body part to have either of those women fighting over them,” Theo said philosophically.
“You want an introduction? Ashley seems nice enough, but Jasmine? Mess with Jasmine at your own risk.”
“What would you do if I said yes?” Theo leaned a little closer, trying to get a better look at Josh’s face in the dim light. “Not Jasmine. . . . I’ve already been chewed up and spat out by women like that, thanks very much. But if I asked for an introduction to Ashley . . .”
“I’d say you didn’t need it. You’ve already met. She likes your band, remember?”
“She likes my band, but as soon as you gave her the time of day, I might as well not have existed. That’s Ashley Carlsen, you know. The movie star. That’s who you just walked away from.”