For No Reason (The Camdyn Series Book 4)

by Christina Coryell

  “Are you kidding me?” Maureen whined. “Can’t Kyle stay with her?”

  “No, and what a rude and bratty thing to say,” Jake scolded her. “Don’t you have any concern for your cousin?”

  “It’s always theatrics with Camdyn, just like the Vandersnoot Smackdown. I should have known something would happen.” Finding her outburst rather funny, I dropped my head into my hands, chuckling quietly. “Camdyn Scramdyn – we can never stay anywhere long when you’re around.” I felt a warm hand on my back, and I turned slightly to see Jake lowering himself onto the step next to me.

  “How you holding up?” he wondered quietly.

  “I’ll be fine,” I assured him, giving him a sly smile. “You’ve thoroughly upset Maureen. She may never forgive you.”

  “It’s a great loss.” He smirked and brought that dimple into full view. “What can I get you? Water? Something for your stomach?”

  “No, I’m okay.” I began to get up, but he rose first and offered his hand, pulling me to my feet beside him. “You don’t seem the type to ignore a girl who so badly wants to be noticed. What gives with Maureen?”

  I startled him enough with my question that he smiled, showcasing the dimple in his cheek. “Wow, what to say to that? I’m not as bad as I seem.”

  “I doubt that’s a true statement.”

  After bending to retrieve my golf ball from the bushes, he returned to his full height, raising his eyebrows at me. “Let’s just say that being with Parker the last few weeks has made me realize that I’m missing something. I wouldn’t mind finding my own heartbreaker, that’s all.”

  “You’re looking for a heartbreaker?” I laughed, shaking my head at him.

  “Sorry, I should have been more specific,” he stated, ceremoniously handing me the golf ball. “I am looking for my own Camdyn. Someone who makes me want to sing at work and drive everyone crazy talking about her. That’s definitely not Maureen or Hannah.”

  “Why would you say that?” I self-consciously pushed a curl behind my ear, feeling exposed under his intense scrutiny. Rather than answer, he turned and walked back up the steps to retrieve our putters, instructing another couple who were waiting to play through. When he returned to stand next to me, he raised his eyebrows a touch and gave me a slight grin.

  “Are you feeling better?”

  Instinctively touching my abdomen, I cocked my head to the side a bit. “For the moment. What’s wrong with Maureen or Hannah?”

  I know I should learn to let things go, but it’s just so difficult, isn’t it?

  Curiosity always gets the better of me!

  “I’m sure they’re fine.”

  “But?”

  “But…I don’t know, somehow they just feel like cheaper versions of the real thing.” He strolled forward, placing my ball down and motioning for me to complete my shot. Stepping up to the ball, I tapped it and watched as it inched toward the hole, ultimately not going in. With a frustrated sigh, I pretended to crack the putter across my knee.

  “So, what is the real thing, then?” I wanted to know, casually kicking the ball into the cup with my toe.

  “The real thing?” he stated nonchalantly, scooping the ball back out of its destination with his putter. “I guess…well, someone like you.”

  Chapter Eight

  “So, Parker’s kind of obsessed with this baseball stuff all of a sudden, isn’t he?”

  Jake and I had been casually conversing for the past twenty miles about mundane, ordinary things. He wasn’t one to carry on deep, soul-searching conversations, but I was purposely steering him toward nonsensical nothingness. The truth was, I wasn’t sure how I felt knowing that Jake’s “real thing” was someone like me.

  When Hannah and Maureen had decided to continue their evening with Jimmy and Kyle, after my initial shock subsided, I felt a strange mixture of apprehension, relief, and disappointment. Admittedly, I was glad to be off the hook and headed home, content that Hannah would protect Maureen. The slight disappointment I felt at not witnessing the remainder of Maureen’s meltdown was tempered by the fact that her anger seemed directed at me.

  “This is the most abysmal place I have ever been in my life,” she had said when Jake and I finally caught up to the others after my mini golf fiasco. “How do you people live in this God-forsaken culture-starved nightmare of a place? Oh, I know why you live here, Camdyn – it’s because you would have followed Mr. Steamy to the edge of the earth. The rest of you, though, seriously – you must be a little bit slow to want to live in such a horrible stench-hole of a place.”

  Strangely, I myself was wondering if Kyle and Jimmy were in fact a little crazy, because even after that tirade they wanted to continue their evening with my petulant cousin.

  Where I was concerned, I had entered that truck with Jake somewhat reluctantly. He was behaving like a perfect gentleman (which was all kinds of weirding me out, by the way), but we were absolutely not on a date. I was a married woman, after all – married to his very good friend, at that. It was starting to feel like an uncomfortable date, though – the kind where you know about halfway in that the guy is totally wrong for you, but you sense that he can’t wait to ask you out again.

  “So, is it just me?”

  “Huh?” I mumbled, shaking myself out of my thoughts.

  “You know, noticing the baseball obsession with Parker?” he clarified with a smirk. “Is it just me?”

  Taking a deep breath, I stared out the passenger window. “He’s trying to pursue his dream. I think it’s awesome.”

  “Of course,” he replied with a sigh, his left hand resting casually over the steering wheel. “You made him think anything was possible, so he’s going for it no matter the risk.”

  “Sometimes dreams are worth the risk,” I assured him. “Anyway, I believe it can be possible, and it has nothing to do with me.”

  “I don’t know – you made me think I could sink that hole-in-one on the seventh. That was an unattainable dream.”

  “Why, Jake, I had no idea!” I faked a terrible southern accent, placing my hand against my heart. “You are a dreamer, just like the rest of us.” He turned to look at me through the darkness, smiling wide.

  “Anyone can tell, you think you know me well,” he stated, pausing to let the words sink in. “Well, you don’t know me.”

  I swear every hair on the back of my neck stood up, because either he had unwittingly randomly spit out the lyrics to one of my favorite Bublé songs, or he had done it on purpose. Either way, that truck got mega uncomfortable within merely a matter of seconds.

  Just a few more miles.

  “So, how is Bailey?” Talking about his three-year-old daughter had to change things for the better, right?

  “She doesn’t want much to do with me,” he sighed. “In fact, I’m pretty sure she hates me. I’m giving it an honest shot, though – this ‘being a dad’ thing. I haven’t forgotten your lecture about that, either. It haunts me like a bad dream.”

  “I’ve never lectured you, have I?”

  “Yes, on the way back from the airport that time I picked you up. You gave me a massive guilt trip.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what? I deserved it, didn’t I?” Turning to glance at his profile, I pondered his words.

  “I’m thankful I don’t get everything I deserve,” I said simply. “I’m sure it will just take a little time, and she’ll warm up to you.”

  “She has to get used to me, I suppose, with her mom working on Saturdays. I am now the official babysitter.”

  “That’s awesome.”

  “No, it’s terrifying,” he laughed. “We just kind of hang out, staring as though we’re afraid we’re going to be bitten. She might bite me, actually – I wouldn’t put it past her.” I started chuckling, and he turned his head to glance at me as he navigated a turn in the road. “What’s funny?”

  “I was just thinking that, of all the women you’ve ever been around, the only one who could really bring you t
o your knees is a three-year-old.”

  “Really? That’s a pretty wide paint brush you’re using to make that picture.”

  “Is it really, Mr. McAuliffe?” Giving him a smirk, I watched as a slow smile spread across his face. Rather than turning toward me, however, he continued to stare out the windshield.

  “Yes, because I haven’t been given the opportunity to find out if that’s the case with every woman I’ve ever been around, heartbreaker. Take you, for example. I’m just a friend – that’s all I’ve ever been.”

  “Stop,” I demanded, a cold chill skittering over my chest.

  “Stop?”

  “The song lyrics,” I clarified forcefully. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but just stop.”

  “What am I doing?”

  Letting out a sigh, I rested my head against the seat behind me and looked out the window, trying to decide what to say.

  “Jake, I want to be your friend, I really do. If that’s going to happen, though, you have to stop flirting with me.”

  “Flirting with you,” he repeated with a laugh. “Honestly, I do think you’re a bit conceited.”

  “Don’t make it out as though I’m exaggerating.” He turned the truck into the long driveway to my house, and I dared to glance at him from the corner of my eye.

  “I’m sorry, alright? I’m not trying to… It’s just how I talk, I guess.”

  “Well, you can’t.” Placing my hand on the door handle, I prepared to make a run for it the second he came to a stop.

  “Like I said, I’m sorry.” He shifted into park and looked over at me. “I will make an honest effort – I promise. Don’t be mad at me, okay? Parker’s the best friend I have.”

  Opening the door, I stepped down onto the gravel and stood for a moment, looking up at the light shining through the front windows of the house.

  “I’m not mad at you, but I’m warning you - I will be if you can’t figure out how to cool it. Besides, we have something in common.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Parker’s my best friend, too,” I told him with a smile. “Goodnight, Jake.”

  Walking across the gravel and toward the log front steps, I heard the sound of tires crunching against gravel as Jake’s truck moved farther from me on the driveway. Shaking my head, I looked up at that rustic-looking house in front of me. Maybe his intention was not to flirt, and he probably was accustomed to talking suggestively to women he met, but that didn’t explain quoting those song lyrics. In fact, it was so weird, I made a conscious attempt to erase it from my mind.

  Pushing open the front door, my eyes immediately went to the kitchen, where Cole was leaning slightly over the counter while Rita showed him the contents of a mixing bowl. They paused in mid-conversation when they noticed me, and Cole straightened with a smile.

  “Hey, babe,” he said simply. “Rita’s showing me her cannoli recipe.”

  I am in the Twilight Zone.

  That’s the only explanation, right?

  I mean, I just got dropped off from what ended up feeling like a weird date with my husband’s friend, and I walk in to find him trading recipes with my mother.

  Cannoli, with Rita.

  Isn’t this my house?

  My. House.

  No matter, because the kumquat didn’t like the idea of Rita making cannoli in the kitchen any more than I did. A hiccup rose in my throat, and I threw my hand over my mouth, willing calm to my abdomen. Sensing that I might lose my battle, I marched straight across to the hallway and into the downstairs guest bath, closing the door behind me. Sitting on the bathroom floor, I dropped my head into my hands, letting the defeat wash over me.

  “Okay in there?” Cole wanted to know.

  “Yep,” I moaned. “Just relishing my newfound relationship with the toilet.” Moment of nausea subsiding, I leaned against the wall and let out a sigh.

  “Your relationship with the toilet is deepening to a disturbing level. Should I be jealous?”

  Seriously, could he be more adorable?

  “I’ll let you know.”

  I listened to the sound of him moving away from the door, back to Rita and her cannoli lesson, and the disgust began to rise inside – directed at what, or whom, I wasn’t quite sure. The thought of Rita in my kitchen wasn’t particularly overwhelming, or Jake having acted sort of goofy that night, or the sickness I was dealing with on a daily basis. The thing was, though, all of them together were throwing me for a loop. To be perfectly honest, I just wanted to have a couple days where I did nothing but exist – a few precious hours where it didn’t feel like I was on the verge of some life-changing discovery.

  If that was too much to ask, then I would have just liked to enjoy a giant slab of Rosalie’s strawberry pie. Or lemon – the kumquat wasn’t picky.

  After a moment of laughing about how quickly I could go from nauseous to hungry, I rose from my position on the bathroom floor. Rather than join the others in the kitchen, though, I moved down the hall and went straight up the stairs, heading to the bedroom. There, I turned the radio on and lowered myself onto the bed, covering my eyes and trying to drown out all the thoughts that were filling my mind.

  So Rita’s cooking in my kitchen, what’s the big deal?

  Besides the fact that I can’t seem to cook in my kitchen.

  Ugh.

  The buzzing noise beside the bed startled me, and I withdrew my hands from my face to glance over at my phone, seeing my sister-in-law Trina’s smiling face. Grabbing the phone, I answered without bothering to sit up.

  “You haven’t been calling me.”

  “Hello, Trina.” I smiled to myself as I stared at the ceiling. “It’s so nice to hear from you.”

  “Don’t change the subject. You know I like an update every three days at the very least. It’s been five. I’ve been imagining all kinds of horrible situations in which you’ve maimed yourself.”

  “As if Cole would let that happen,” I murmured.

  “That’s what I told myself too, until day three,” she complained. “Then, naturally I decided that you must have taken him down with you.”

  “And how exactly did I manage to do this?”

  “Well, first you were tracked down by that drug dealer you had the run in with a few weeks ago, and he had you and Cole tied up in an abandoned shack down by the river. The more I thought about that, though, I knew Cole could have easily fought his way out of that scenario.”

  “Naturally.”

  “So, I decided that Peter had seen himself on Almost Midnight with Jamie Price on that proposal video, and he was utterly embarrassed, so he determined to pay you back for humiliating him. He hunted you down and was holding you captive in your house at gunpoint. Then, Cole…”

  “…would not let that happen,” I finished for her.

  “Of course not, so I knew that wasn’t it. So, reason dictated that you were attempting to make a chocolate cake, and you forgot to turn the oven off, which wouldn’t have been a big deal, but you accidentally left a dish towel on the oven rack. Before you realized what was happening, the entire house was engulfed in flames, and your cell phone unfortunately perished in the fire. You were too busy trying to put things back in order to think about calling.”

  As though I would leave a dish towel in the oven.

  Yeah, I know, the oven mitt. Yikes.

  “Since my cell phone is working…”

  “…that only leaves the assumption that you stopped caring about us, and I’m hurt, Cammie. Crushed, actually.”

  Chuckling, I allowed myself to relax further against the pillow as I listened to that voice I had grown so accustomed to over the years. “Can we save the theatrics for another day? Maybe I have a good reason for not calling.”

  “It better be impressive,” she demanded, silence greeting me through the phone.

  “Okay, how’s this? Rita is in my kitchen right now teaching Cole her cannoli recipe, and she’s staying here because Hannah and Maureen showed up out of th
e blue on a manhunt. Just to be clear, by manhunt, I don’t mean the criminal kind – I mean prowling for men. It would have been weird to stand there watching her cook with my husband, but there wasn’t any worry about hanging around for that, because every time I turn around it seems like I have my head in a toilet. The baby didn’t seem to want any cannoli, so I’m hiding in my bedroom trying not to freak out like…”

  “Did you say baby?”

  Whoops.

  “Um, I…”

  “Are you pregnant?” she hissed, as though she were afraid someone would overhear that sensitive information.

  Deep breath, Camdyn. Ignore the tears welling up. Don’t act crazy.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, Cammie! How long have you known?”

  “A little while.”

  “How far along are you?”

  “Ten weeks,” I sniffed.

  “Why are you crying?”

  “I have no idea.” Rising to a seated position, I stared at my wedding picture on the nightstand. “Am I ever going to feel normal again, Trina?”

  “Never,” she stated with a shocked-sounding little snort. “I can’t wait to tell Charlie. He’s going to flip out.”

  “Some lady at the doctor’s office told me I wouldn’t be able to wear my shoes anymore.”

  “People will tell you all kinds of things. It’s best to ignore them.”

  “I spent two-hundred fifty-seven dollars on a muumuu and a pair of denim sweatpants.”

  “The baby’s clouding your brain, clearly.”

  “I shouldn’t be allowed to mingle with sane people.”

  “I could have told you that ages ago.”

  As if on cue, we both started giggling. When she calmed herself and let out a sigh, I wiped a stray tear from my face.

  “What am I doing, Trina? I am inept at taking care of myself. This is a disaster waiting to happen.”

  “You’re having a panicky moment. Snap out of it.”

  “I’m not having a panicky moment – I’m having a moment of clarity.”

  “Sheesh, Cammie, just stop. Is Cole happy about the baby?”

  “Are you kidding?” I asked, sniffing again. “He’s on top of the world.”