Camille hesitated. The memory of the afternoon confrontation and the ensuing kiss flashed through her mind. She clenched her fists under the covers, trying to calm her pounding heart. “Fine,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “But don’t expect me to make this easy.”
“I wouldn’t think of it,” Hawke replied softly, his tone serious. “I just want us to understand each other better.”
His voice cut through her reverie as she remembered the taste of his kiss.
Hawke crossed his arms behind his head, his gaze softening as he looked at her. “You know,” he murmured, “it’s said that people who eavesdrop usually don’t hear the whole story.” His words hovered between them, a silent invitation to come closer.
She turned to face him so close in his sleeping bag that the fire reflected in his eyes. Her gaze lingered, unwillingly captivated, drawn to the way his strong arms rested behind his head, the soft fabric of his T-shirt stretching over hard muscle.
“I was talking to Trent,” he continued, “reminiscing about a previous conversation we had at his parents’ forty-fifth anniversary party. Trent indicated he was seriously enamored with Ondine. You were there with Ondine. You were right—I did have her checked out by a private investigator. I wanted to protect Trent from a possible gold digger.”
“You two behaved like playboys,” she retorted, her voice edged with irritation. “Trent was committed to Ondine; yet, you both assumed she was after his wealth. Ondine possesses an integrity and strength beyond what you can fathom. She is undeserving of your judgment. That was the day I realized I did not trust Trent and disliked you intensely for making such an assumption.”
Hawke’s expression softened. “Trent is more tender-hearted than I,” he replied. “He is far from the playboy you imagine, which is why your animosity towards him baffles me.”
“He is a playboy,” Camille retorted, her eyes flashing with frustration. “His numerous past relationships are proof enough. I can’t envision him committing to one person for life.”
“Did you hear Trent’s reaction this afternoon when I questioned Ondine’s character? I did it solely to provoke him and to gauge his response.”
“No,” she admitted, her voice faltering slightly. “By then, I had already slipped away to the rear of the stable, furious and afraid I’d lose control.”
“Then, you missed his passionate defense of Ondine and his unwavering belief in her love. He told me I’d never know such magical peace until I found my soulmate, as he had. He was overjoyed, thanking God Ondine had entered his life. Initially, she distrusted him, believing him to be a womanizer. She wanted nothing to do with him, but he persevered. After three months, she relented,” Hawke recalled.
They fell silent, the weight of their conversation lingering in the air. Camille sensed a subtle shift, an understanding they both had much to learn about each other and the people they cared about. A tentative hope for what might come next stirred within her.
Taking a deep breath, Camille felt the tension slowly dissipate. She turned to her side, her gaze settling on the flickering flames of the fireplace. “Good night, Hawke,” she said softly. She could feel Hawke watching her a moment longer.
“Good night, Camille,” he replied, his voice gentle.
As she watched the flames casting dancing shadows, she felt both uncertainty and the warmth of newfound hope. Much remained unresolved between them, but for the first time in months, she felt a glimmer of understanding and looked forward to what tomorrow might bring.
During the night, she unconsciously moved closer. Her body instinctively sought Hawke’s warmth. In a dream state, she nuzzled her face into the T-shirt covering his chest, a contented sigh escaping her lips. Her eyelids fluttered, and she felt enveloped in a comforting embrace. Suddenly, she awoke with a start, her breath catching in her throat. The growing light of the day was coming through the cabin window enough to warmly caress his face. She looked up at him, trying to inch away without making a sound, hoping not to wake him, but it was too late.
Her gaze met his, dark and intense, with a hunger that made her heart race. Time seemed to freeze. The dark shadow of stubble marked his jawline. He bent his head and kissed her.
A kiss that was melting, loving, sensuous, and hungry all at once.
He gently kissed her forehead, then held her close for a moment longer, whispering, “Good morning,” in her ear.
She burrowed into his chest, savoring the warmth and protection it offered. Taking a deep breath, she finally pushed him away.
He released her without hesitation.
“That’s the first time I’ve woken up to a kiss,” she muttered, struggling to step out of her sleeping bag. “I enjoyed it, but you can’t just kiss me whenever you want.” Staring, she explained with a mix of longing and sadness, “Do not play with me. I am not up to your weight in matters of love and sex. Well, love for me and most likely sex for you. Let’s be civil to each other, even becoming friends again, but nothing more. During my undergraduate studies, I had a heartbreaking experience with a popular guy who fancied me.”
He paused, absorbing her words, his expression softening with understanding. He got out of his sleeping bag and stretched his arms over his head, muscles rippling under his T-shirt.
Despite his rugged appearance and laugh lines, he was undeniably attractive.
Quietly, he began, “It’s not the same scenario but the same treachery. I thought I encountered my true love in my younger days. She was smart enough not to go to bed with me, making me eager for our wedding night. I had no friends to save the day, but a fortunate coincidence did.”
As Camille studied his solemn face, she went on to explain, “What he desired was to win a bet to be the first man to have sex with me, as it was known I refused to consider sex as recreational, a party favor, but only as part of a committed relationship.” She looked away, lost in thought. “To this day, I am so thankful for my loyal friends who informed me about the bet before I made the mistake of sleeping with him. I was so naïve I thought he really loved me, and we would have a future together.”
After Camille shared her story dealing with a disgusting seducer, Hawke concluded his own tale about an unfaithful partner, saying, “My business trip was unexpectedly cut short, and I wanted to surprise her by taking her to a fancy restaurant. When I arrived unannounced at her apartment, I rang the doorbell. She thought it was the food delivery she ordered for the night. She invited me in without checking, then came out of the bedroom, barely dressed. When she gasped, her lover emerged from the bedroom to see what had happened. He was a business acquaintance of mine. The relationship was over. Happily, I had not yet proposed or given her a ring. The lesson was a hard one.”
“We understand each other. Truce. No romantic feelings for either of us. Friends,” she stated, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as if to shield herself from further intimacy.
“OK…friends. But fair warning—I’m not sure I can be just a platonic friend. I enjoy kissing you and will keep on doing so,” he emphasized, leaning closer.
His voice sounded soft but firm, his breath warm on her cheek. Her eyes widened as if caught off guard. “What kind of statement is that?” she exclaimed, though deep down, a flutter of uncertainty and desire stirred within her.
“The kind that makes life interesting for both of us,” he replied with a mischievous grin, his eyes sparkling with a playful challenge.
“There is no us,” she snapped sharper than necessary, feeling a pang of frustration mixed with the faintest tinge of regret. She turned away abruptly, hurriedly grabbing her riding clothes. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons, her mind racing.