*Harper woke to sun streaming in the window. She grabbed her phone … oh holy—It was almost noon and they had to be at Cam’s for the Walker family Christmas at one. She needed a shower, and Cam, sleeping peacefully next to her, could probably use another one after the night they’d shared.
She hugged herself under the quilt and flushed with heat—they hadn’t even bothered to pull back the coverlet and get between the sheets. She’d never known such raw passion, not even with—
No, don’t go there. Comparisons served no purpose. Her memories of Drew were good ones that she would keep in a safe corner of her heart, but her heart belonged to Cam now.
“Hey.” She ran a finger up his bare arm. “Wake up. We have to be at your house in an hour. We really should’ve been there by now to help.”
He opened one eye. “You obviously don’t know my mom. No one invades her kitchen on Christmas Day.” His voice, rough and sexy with sleep, sent a shiver through her. That same deep voice had whispered sweet, hot words to her last night as he’d touched and kissed and caressed every inch of her. Who knew just the sound of a man’s voice could be such a turn-on?
“It’s your kitchen,” she reminded him as he put his arm around her and pulled her into his warm embrace.
“Not during Christmas.” He chuckled. “It automatically becomes hers again as soon as the first pan of rolls rises.” He yawned and pressed his lips against her temple and then to her lips when she raised her face to his.
After a few minutes when it became clear where those kisses were headed, she slipped out of his arms. “We can’t… We’ve got to get going. I do not intend to be late to my first Walker Christmas dinner.”
“Okay, okay.” He sat up. “But first—” He stood and ambled, unselfconscious and delectable, to the tiny tree in the corner of her bedroom. He returned with a small square package wrapped in red and green holiday paper and tied up with a gold ribbon. Sitting on side of the bed, he handed it to her. “Merry Christmas, Harper.”
Her heart stuttered, and she wondered when he’d placed the gift under her tree. Even more, she was surprised that with all that had happened, all he’d been through the past week, he’d even thought to buy her a gift. “Hold on a second.” She set the gift down, grabbed her robe off the hook on the back of the bathroom door, and ran lightly out to the living room to get his present. “Here, this is for you.” She held out the large wrapped painting she’d done for him.
He blinked. “Wow.”
“Open it.”
“You first.” He reached behind him and gave her the gift.
After removing the ribbon and paper, she found a light-brown recycled jewelry-sized box with the words Moon Maid Designs embossed on it in black script letters. She opened the lid and inside nestled a beautiful, shining sterling silver bangle bracelet. “Oh, Cam, it’s exquisite. How did you ever find time to…” She lifted it from the nest of cotton and discovered that it was engraved—a pair of overlapping hearts and the words My Heart Is Yours Forever.
Blinking back tears, she slipped it on her wrist and bent down to give him a kiss in which she tried to put everything she was feeling. “I’ll wear it always,” she promised from the depths of her soul. “When did you find time to do this?”
“I got a friend in da business.” He gave it a gangster reading and winked as he pulled her to him, but the bulky package she’d given him got in the way, so she stepped back.
“Open yours now.”
His eyes widened when he saw the charcoal and watercolor rendering of she’d made of him working on the dower chest. “Harp, this is incredible. Thank you.” He stared at the painting, shaking his head in disbelief. “God, you’re such an amazing artist.”
“I wanted you to see how you’ve brought color back into my life.”
He looked up from the painting, tears shimmering in his eyes. “It’s exquisite.” He cleared his throat, “Even if it is me.”
She grinned. “After I painted it for you, I saw inside your house and realized it was the perfect gift. You have no art on your walls.” She smoothed his tousled hair off his forehead. “I’m going to work on that for you.”
“Good!” He set the painting on the bed, stood up, and sliding his hands under her open robe, took her in his arms. “Merry Christmas, Harper. I love you.”
She basked in the warmth of his skin against hers. Would she ever get enough of this man? “Merry Christmas, Cameron. I love you, too. You and this town have brought me back from the darkness, and I know my future, whatever it is, will be here with you.”
“You bet it will be.” He turned her toward the bathroom. “Starting with the absolute best part of Christmas. Come on, let’s get a shower.”
“You’ve said that about every single holiday event so far,” she reminded him with a smile.
He grinned. “This is the real thing, baby. The Walker family Christmas Day celebration is the icing on the Christmas cake, the cherry on the sundae, the halo on the angel, the star on—”
She stopped and put her hand to his lips. “I get it. I get it.” It was hard to believe that anything could be better than all of the wonderful holiday events she’d experienced with him so far, but Cam Walker knew Christmas like nobody else, so she was all-in.
*
Four months later…
“Argh!” A loud crash, a thump, and a string of curses greeted Harper as she opened the door to Cam’s garage workshop.
“Hello to you, too.” She left the door open to let in the warm late-April breeze and sunshine.
“Sorry, love.” Cam looked up from where he knelt on the concrete floor amidst a pile of wood pieces of varying lengths and sizes. “Trying to get to a backboard for the bookcase Jane ordered for her new office and…” He held out both hands in clear defeat. “Guess I’ll be restacking wood instead of finishing the bookcase today, dammit.” A heavy sigh slipped from him. “I think I’m going to have to rent some storage space at that place up on the highway. I’m running out of room in here. I bought all that old-growth poplar, oak, and maple that was reclaimed from a torn-down building in Cincy and I’m glad to have it, but it’s eating up my work area.”
“You did get a lot of wood.” Cautiously Harper stepped in, picking up chunks of wood as she moved closer. She held out her hand and he grasped her wrist and allowed her to help him up. “Maybe I can make things better.”
He tugged her into his arms. “You already have just by being here. Kiss me.”
Smiling, she pressed her lips to his, and the heat that was always between them flickered to life. How they ever got anything done was a mystery, because ten seconds in his presence and she melted into a puddle of longing.
Cam wasn’t much better. His hands roamed over her back, slipping down to pull her hips tight against him before exploring under her sweatshirt for bare skin. Thankfully, she’d worn a tight cami as a base layer this morning and it was tucked into her snug jeans. “You have too many clothes on, sweetheart,” he murmured and touched his tongue to the sensitive skin behind her ear.
She basked in his kisses and caresses for a second or two longer, then seized his wrist. “Wait.”
“Why?” Cam pressed kisses to the side of her neck and his fingers slid around her waist and up to cup—
“Cam.” Harper put both hands against his chest and pushed. She raised one brow at his disgruntled expression. “How about because you promised Jane you’d have that bookcase done before the June open house at city hall, and it still has to be stained and waxed. And today, I have to work on the cabinet for Gloria Schwimmer.” Her raised palm halted his objections. “I know you didn’t build that little thing, but you repaired it and I’m painting it, which makes it officially a Walker-Gaines project to be proud of.”
“Okay, okay.” He dropped his head back and groaned, then gave her a mischievous grin. “We could just slip into the house for fifteen minutes. What my grandpa used to refer to as afternoon delight, whaddya say?”
God, she was so tempted. The man was delicious and irresistible, but she steeled herself. “No. For one thing, it’s eight thirty in the morning and for another—”
He attempted to draw her back into his arms. “Okay, morning delight then.”
“Uh-uh, buster, you’ve already had your morning delight.” With a step back, she hoped to discourage him. “For another,” she repeated, “I need you to come into town with me for a minute. I’ve got something to show you.”
“You said you could make this”—he threw his arm to encompass the entire workshop, which she had to admit was looking pretty cluttered—“better. So far, you’re battin’ zero, babe. Leaving here isn’t going to get this mess cleaned up.”
“Just hush your moaning and give me a chance.” Grabbing his hand, she dragged him, grumbling, to the door.
The walk to town in the bright spring sunshine seemed to improve Cam’s mood, although they did have to stop at each block for kisses that left her weak in the knees and hungry for more. But she was on a mission that, hopefully, was going to make Cameron Walker’s life easier. When they got to Main Street, she walked him right past Mac’s to the narrow two-story brick house just behind the diner on Hill Street. She stopped at the doorway. “What do you think of this place?”
He eyed the building, which belonged to Mac, and had recently been rented to a couple of women who had planned to open another antiques shop. Unfortunately, one of them backed out and the whole deal went south. Harper had overheard Mac and Carly discussing it a couple of weeks earlier when she’d stopped in to pick up a carryout order.
Cam squinted in the morning sunshine. “Mac owns this, doesn’t he? I thought he had it rented.”
Harper nodded. “He does and he did, but the deal fell through. He’s thinking he wants to sell it instead of renting it again. What do you think?”
His brow furrowed. “About?”
“Buying it.”
This time, he took a step back. “Honey, I can’t afford to buy this place.”
“I can.”
Cam’s jaw dropped, then closed just as quickly. His chin jutted in defiance. “I’m not going to let you buy me a building, for God’s sake.”
“I’m not talking about me buying it for you. I’m talking about us buying it for us.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and quirked one brow, so she hurried on, hoping he would warm to the idea if she talked fast enough. “Cam, it’s the perfect place for Walker/Gaines Woodshop and Gallery. We can use the front of the first floor and the top floor for showroom and gallery space, and you’ll have the whole back of the house for your workshop. Plus there’s a connected summer kitchen space that could be storage or a studio for me or whatever. There’s a dry basement, too. We can use the money I got from selling my house to buy the building and your savings plus Drew’s life insurance money to renovate it to suit us. It’s the perfect solution to your overcrowded workshop.”
His expression became even more dubious. “The insurance money? Are you sure?”
She smiled. “Yes, I think Drew would approve. You’d still have your garage to work in when you wanted to, and I…” She hesitated, not exactly sure whether to approach this part of her plan.
After all, he’d never invited her to live with him, despite the fact that she practically spent every night in his bed. She only went to the apartment when she needed to do laundry. She’d even moved Misty over to Cam’s and the kitten and Chairman Meow had become good, if wary, friends.
“You what?” He uncrossed his arms, which she interpreted as his being open to hearing whatever she had to say.
Heat filled her cheeks—this was boldness beyond her comfort zone, but she was so certain it was right, she jumped in with both feet. “My lease is up at the end of this month. If I move in with you, we’ll have that money back in our budget every month.”
Cam’s gray-blue eyes widened. “Move in with me?”
Her heart sank. He didn’t seem too shot with the idea, so quickly she forged ahead, holding up a key. “Just something to consider. Want to see the inside?”
He appeared lost in thought for a moment, then finally nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”
*
Cam’s heart was hammering so hard, he was surprised Harper couldn’t hear it as she unlocked the door and led the way into the old house. He was overwhelmed to the point of speechlessness. How was it possible that everything he dreamed of was suddenly happening all in one fell swoop? His own shop, and he and Harper sharing a home and a life together. Joy overtook him as they wandered the high-ceilinged space. He could see his creations here—a painted dower chest in the front window, the maple dining table and chairs in the center of the room with a turned painted bowl placed carefully upon it. His cherry corner cupboard that hadn’t sold yet would fit perfectly between the two walls by the archway into the hall. He could dig out that big Persian rug and put the table and chairs on it.
The back of the building was huge and airy and would make a great workshop. They could even do woodworking presentations to school kids or teach some classes to adults who wanted to learn how to build furniture. His mind was racing as she guided him through the four good-sized rooms upstairs, also very airy and bright with long narrow windows in the front and back of the house. Back downstairs, two steps down at the back led to a stone-floored summer kitchen that had a fireplace, wavy glass windows, and a stone lintel above the door. Carved in the stone was the name Barbier and the date 1835. It would be a perfect studio for Harper.
Harper had stood back, allowing him time to explore. When he turned to her, the shuttered look on her face was one he hadn’t seen since he’d first met her. Oh God. He’d been so gobsmacked that he’d closed up and frightened her.
Swiftly, he strode to her side. “I’m sorry, Harper. Your plan just isn’t going to work for me.”
Clearly dejected, she blinked as her forehead pleated in a frown. “Um … okay. I guess I’ll tell Mac we’re not interested.”
“No, no.” He took her shoulders in his hands and realized she was trembling. Crap. He hadn’t meant to scare her. “Not this plan”—he glanced around the place—“this is the perfect place for a business. I love the idea of Walker and Gaines Woodshop and Gallery—I can see it on a sign hanging by the front door.”
“What then?” Her forest green eyes darkened, and her lip quivered.
He needed to put her out of her misery before she decided he was a punk who didn’t deserve her love and generosity. “I don’t want you to move in with me.”
“You don’t?” Disappointment laced her tone.
He shook his head. “Nope. Not unless you’re my wife.”
“Wife?” she squeaked.
He dropped to one knee and grasped her hand. “Harper, will you marry me?”
Her brow furrowed. “Marry you? Cameron, I wasn’t asking you for that!”
“I know. I’m asking you for that. I thought we could go to Paris on our honeymoon. Stay on the Left Bank, explore the city, eat at Les Deux Magots and Café de Flore, walk all the bridges, tour Versailles, visit the bouquinistes … you know, a whole Midnight in Paris experience.”
“You’ve thought about this?”
“Every day since Christmas.” He kissed her hand. “Forgive me, but this stone floor is killing my knee.” He stood up and drew her to him, repeating, “Will you marry me?”
Suddenly tears shimmered in those lovely expressive eyes and she was laughing and crying all at the same time. “Yes, yes. I will marry you.”
“Can you say it in French?” he teased gently between kisses.
She swallowed hard, sniffled, and after a moment of thought said, “Oui, oui, je t’épouserai.” Then she kissed him, tender and sweet. Leaning back, she stared at what he was sure was his bedazzled expression. “You have no idea what I just said, do you? Do you even speak French?”
He shook his head and used his best French accent. “Non.”
“How are you ever going to get around Paris if you don’t speak French?”
Incandescent with happiness, he wrapped his arms around her. He wasn’t sure if it was his heart or hers that he felt pounding between them. It didn’t matter—he was hers, she was his, they were an us and would be forever. “You’re just going to have to be by my side every moment. On our honeymoon and for the rest of our lives.”
She smiled. “I can do that.”
The End