THEY’D BARELY STARTED the lesson when something occurred to Rhys. Watching Camile in the mirror, he asked, “So Anne didn’t tell you any of that about Willow?”
“Nope.” Tonight’s agenda included introducing the natural turn so he could, according to Camile, “gracefully whisk Willow around the entire dance floor.” He had no idea what that entailed other than it sounded terrifying and impossible. She’d just demonstrated the steps and now prompted him to try. “Left foot forward whenever you’re ready.”
Half-heartedly, he attempted the steps.
“What are you doing—the zombie shuffle?” she joked. “Pick up your feet, elongate your steps. Show me some life.”
He did. “I just assumed when you guys were talking that morning that she’d told you some things.”
“No, she didn’t. I thought you were learning to dance for your fiancée. I tried to figure out how I made the assumption. At the restaurant, I asked when the ‘big day’ was, and Anne said five weeks.”
“That makes sense.” He glanced at his feet, both of which seemed to be cooperating uncharacteristically well.
“I thought so. All this time I thought Willow was your fiancée. Don’t look down!”
The meaning of her words hit him fast and hard. He looked up but the implication behind the statement left him a little breathless. He stopped moving. Did this explain her initial standoffishness? As unfortunate as the misunderstanding was, he liked her even more as a human being if that were the case. This revelation also changed things, gave him hope. But what did he do with it? A mix of longing and fear warred inside him. There were moments, especially when they were dancing and he had his hands on her, when he was sure he could feel her attraction to him. But there were also moments when she looked at him as if...as if she wasn’t sure.
He hadn’t wanted a person to like him this much since elementary school. Back before he realized that way more people were not going to like him than did. That had been a painful truth to bear, but he’d always had Evan and Anne. In the military it had been easier to find common ground, and he’d forged some lasting friendships. Now he had Kyle. But those were men. His romantic relationships had all been either unsatisfying or outright failures, usually a combination of both.
He’d never met a woman he’d been comfortable enough with to get close to. Until now. If there was even a chance that Camile returned his feelings, he needed to try. He needed to think, to formulate a plan.
Rhys realized she was watching him, curiosity and amusement fueling her smile. Another point occurred to him. “I bet this is the kind of misunderstanding that’s led to most of these rumors about me.”
With an exaggerated, comical wince, she nodded. “I’m glad you see the humor.”
“I do. And I see some other things, too.”
Confusion knitting her brow, she asked, “Like what?”
Opportunity, he answered silently. Thankfully. But that reminded him of a topic that would be far safer for him, at least. “Anne made me promise to ask you if you know of anything fun we could do with Willow while she’s here.”
“How long will she be in town?”
“Through the weekend.”
“There’s the Sea Stars Scavenger Hunt on Saturday.”
“What is that? How does it work?”
“Exactly like it sounds—a community scavenger hunt. For adults and children alike. You register in teams of up to five people. Then you literally run around on the beach and throughout town as there’s no motor vehicle use allowed, attempting to gather all the items on the list. Afterward, there are prizes and a seafood boil in the park. Willow will love it.”
“You seem to know quite a bit about it. Are you going?”
“That’s because my sister Aubrey is helping organize it. She does a ton of volunteer work in the community. It’s sponsored by the Coast Guard and a bunch of local businesses. And I am going, but not participating. When Nina and my friends were forming their teams, I thought I would be working. As it happens, it will be the first day in forever that I literally have nothing to do. But I know tons of people who are going. Harper and Mia are competing with Nina on a team against Kyle and Jay—that will be hilarious. Kyle’s teenage niece and nephew have a team, too, so I feel confident it passes the teenager cool test.”
“This sounds perfect.” Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he asked, “Is there a website or a Facebook page? How do I get more information and sign up?”
“I have all that on my phone. I’ll text it to you.” She walked over to the bench by the door where she’d left her phone, picked it up and sent him the links.
“Thank you. I’m glad I asked. I’m sending these to Anne and Willow now. Anne will be extremely pleased. And I’m excited about the idea that Willow might be excited.”
“Good. Can we get back to work now?”
“Don’t worry,” he joked. “You’ll get paid the same whether we’re chatting or dancing.” He tucked his phone into his back pocket.
“Rhys,” she said on a lighthearted little huff. “It’s not about the money. It’s about you successfully waltzing with your niece and making her happy and proud. And me. I’m your teacher, and I want to be proud and happy, too. Anne is going to video it for me.”
“Oh, good,” he said dryly. “Now I’ll get to be Pacific Cove’s next internet sensation. But not in a good way like you.”
“Okay, number one, my way was not a good way. And number two, that’s an insult to my skills as a teacher.”
“Why does that video bother you so much?”
“I don’t want to talk about that video. And if you keep stalling, we’re going to be here all night.”
Is that an option? The response teetered on the tip of his tongue. But it was overruled by the fact that she didn’t answer his question. Rhys knew what that meant. It was his own method of deflecting when he didn’t want to lie. What was she hiding? And why didn’t she want him to know? He needed to spend some time with her off the dance floor. How could he make that happen?
Stepping over to her, he reached out and took her hand and positioned his other as she’d taught him. Then he smiled down at her and said, “I can think of worse places to spend my evening. But I know you have an early shift tomorrow, so I promise, no more distractions tonight.” Then he purposefully peppered in some waltz terms to make her smile. “I’m ready to rise and fall and hover corte and perfect my natural spin turn.”
It worked. Her eyes sparkled with humor and approval, and her mouth curved in exactly the way he sought. And that was all he cared about.
For now.
“HI, WELCOME TO Fast Lanes. How many are bowling in your party today?” Camile repeated the words, barely glancing away from the computer monitor where she had her eye on a bunch of rowdy teens. They’d asked her to put up the bumpers in the two lanes they’d rented, and now were purposely throwing the balls against the bumpers to see how many times they could get them to ricochet down the lanes. Enough from these yahoos; she hit the button and lowered the bumpers.
The customer hadn’t answered, so she glanced over ready to rephrase her spiel only to discover the smiling face of her friend. “Laura! Oh my gosh, what are you doing here?”
“Visiting you!” she responded enthusiastically. “I told you I would.”
“You did.” It was a long drive from Portland, and she’d assumed Laura would call first. Camile tried not to let the circumstances bother her, but her friend could not have chosen a worse day to drop by.
“You look fantastic!” Laura gushed.
Camile knew this was not true. She was physically exhausted and completely disheveled. And sweaty. She could feel the evidence of the latter soaking the armpits of her bright yellow bowling T-shirt. Tendrils of stray hair were sticking to her neck. Her stomach felt unsettled, too, and had for most of the day. She hadn’t eaten since this morning. Maybe she should have had more than two leftover cookies for breakfast. Not that there’d been much time for eating with the workday she’d endured.
In a perfect display of the coast’s petulant weather, the day’s forecast for calm seas and sunny skies had been blown off course. A summer squall had barreled in from the ocean, leaving the afternoon unseasonably cold and rainy. The bad weather forced indoors packs of teens, families with kids and groups of tourists, all of whom should have been playing on the beach. This left the bowling alley unexpectedly crowded with a shorthanded staff. Camile had been running, literally, around the place for four hours, fetching errant pins, fixing wonky pinsetters, resetting computer scorecards, and fulfilling requests for heavier bowling balls, lighter bowling balls, left-handed bowling balls, and “that purple and gold bowling ball” that had brought Mr. Thyne good luck last week. She’d exchanged shoes, disinfected shoes, tied shoelaces, untangled knotted shoelaces left by obnoxious kids, fixed the vending machine, cleaned up spilled messes and unclogged a toilet. All of this between assigning customers to their lanes, answering questions, answering the phone, ringing up purchases, monitoring the cameras and babysitting rowdy teens.
Making matters worse, after the late dance lesson with Rhys the evening before, she’d been consumed by thoughts of him, his family and his orphaned niece. To distract herself, she’d attempted to assess her neglected thesis, failed miserably and only managed a few hours of sleep. Despite her advisor Dr. Youngworth’s continued offers of help, Camile still couldn’t bring herself to tackle the project—or to face Dr. Youngworth. Her cowardice was beginning to wear on her, as well.
Up at 4:00 a.m., she’d worked the morning at Blue Carafe thinking she had midday free. But then Maryanne, a fellow waitress at Tabbie’s, had called in sick. Camile adored Maryanne, so she’d agreed to work her lunch shift at the restaurant. She’d barely had time to change her clothes in the bathroom after arriving at the bowling alley. And now, here Laura stood before her, looking perfectly poised and put together. As usual. Undoubtedly with plans for Camile to entertain her for the evening. And spend money she didn’t have.
Camile reminded herself that Laura had no idea what it was like to pay her own way in life. Her parents footed the bill, all her bills. Laura had never even had a job, until very recently. When she’d accepted the assistant professor position that would have been Camile’s if she hadn’t tanked her research. Laura’s smiling face made her feel like an ungrateful jerk. She reminded herself that Laura was a good friend.
They’d met soon after Camile had switched her major to psychology. They’d taken tons of classes together, braved the challenges of the master’s program together, and she’d been there for Camile through the crushing disappointment that was her thesis failure. If Laura wanted to spend time with her, she needed to reciprocate.
“What time do you get off work?” Laura asked.
“I’ve got about another half hour.”
“Great!” she chirped. “I’ll wait. Then you can show me around this quaint little town you’re always raving about. Did you know this place has a Michelin three-star seafood restaurant?”
Camile agreed. Laura headed to the café and came back with a snack pack of carrot sticks and a cup of coffee. She took a seat at the counter overlooking the lanes. Camile was almost ready to clock out when she looked up and felt her day plummet from bad to worse. A cramp twisted hard in her gut. Interestingly, it seemed unrelated to the fact that Rhys and Willow stood at the counter before her.
“Hi, Camile!” Willow said. “Uncle Rhys said you worked here, but he didn’t know if you’d be here today.”
“Hey, guys!” she said, barely managing not to cringe with pain. “You just caught me. I clock out in a few minutes. But I can get you set up on lane number six before I go.” She inhaled deeply and then exhaled, relieved when the discomfort passed.
“That would be great. I’m excited to bowl. I’ve only been a few times in my entire life.”
“Bowling is one of my favorite things. What size shoes do you need?”
“Eight and a half for me, I think,” Willow said.
Camile fetched the shoes and handed them across the counter. “These are nines. Let me know if they don’t fit. They tend to run a little small.”
“Sounds good. I’m going to go pick out a ball.”
“I’ll meet you down there,” Rhys said.
Camile watched a bubbling Willow dash away. After everything the kid had been through, she imagined Rhys savored these joy-filled moments. When Camile faced Rhys again, she realized he was watching her in that way of his that made her feel scrutinized. And that made him appear both extremely serious and extrahandsome—if that was possible. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Laura checking him out. Camile was sure her friend wasn’t the only female in the place similarly affected. Camile felt an unexpected, unwanted pinch of jealousy. Heightened, she knew, by the fact that Laura had recently started dating Rob.
Camile had had a crush on Rob, a fellow grad student, for over a year. He’d scored an adjunct professorship in the sociology department. Thankfully, she’d never confessed her feelings to Laura. After the date debacle with Rhys, she’d gotten into the habit of keeping her romantic interests to herself. She supposed that was one positive thing that had come from her worst date ever.
Matching said date’s somber expression, she said, “The largest size shoe we have is sixteen. Do you think you can squeeze your giant man feet into a sixteen?”
He laughed, hard, and Camile realized she was wrong. Laughter made him extra handsome. He said, “I’ll try a thirteen.”
She fetched the shoes. When she slid them across the counter, Rhys placed a hand over hers and held it there. Lowering his voice, he was all concern as he asked, “Are you okay?”
An unexpected lump of emotion lodged in her throat as his eyes traveled over her. Forcing a swallow, she pinned on a smile. “I’m fine,” she lied, feeling a sheen of sweat dot her upper lip. “Why do you ask?”
“You look...off.”
I feel off. She resisted the urge to confide in him and went with, “Tired. Long, looong day.”
Shaking his head, he whispered, “That’s not it. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Camile, who’s your friend?” Laura asked with her attention pinned appreciatively on Rhys.
Camile hadn’t even noticed Laura approaching. Great, Rhys still had his hand over hers. Pulling away would look obvious, like she didn’t want to be seen holding his hand. Not pulling away seemed worse, like she wanted to hold his hand. The latter was the truth and that left her even more unsettled.
Willow saved her. Jogging toward them, she held the shoes in the air. “These are too big!”
Camile lifted her arms and rolled her wrists inward in a bring-it-on motion. “Well, hand ’em over. Let’s try an eight.”
Switching out the shoes, Camile introduced everyone.
“It’s so great to meet some of Camile’s hometown friends,” Laura said. “She talks about Pacific Cove all the time. I’m a friend from college. We were in the same graduate program together.”
“How nice,” Rhys responded politely.
“Are you guys old friends?” Laura asked. Camile wanted to roll her eyes at the obvious attempt to discern their relationship status.
“New friends,” Rhys answered, and Camile kind of wanted to hug him for the ambiguity.
Laura waited, clearly hoping for more information. He didn’t offer anything further, and neither did Camile. A short stretch of silence ensued until it neared the point of awkwardness.
Willow, seemingly unfazed, looked at Camile. “Are you a good bowler, Camile?”
“Fair.” This was a bit of an understatement.
“I love to bowl,” Laura gushed. “I used to bowl all the time back in high school. I’m pretty good.” Camile did not know this about her friend. How had a shared enjoyment for a hobby like this never come up? Then again, their friendship had been mainly centered around school. Socializing for Camile usually consisted of a makeshift meal, a pot of coffee and a study session. But Laura was always up for it, no matter what odd hours Camile requested. Thinking of that, Camile was once again reminded of Laura’s loyalty. She’d enjoyed that, even if their personalities and preferences didn’t always match up.
“You guys should bowl with us!” Willow suggested to Camile. “You could show me some stuff.”
“That’s a sweet offer, Willow. But I am exhausted after working twelve hours today. Maybe next—”
She’d been about to offer a rain check when Laura chimed in, “I think we can handle one game, don’t you, Camile?”
At Willow’s hopeful look, she answered, “Sure.” And then tried valiantly to will her now-roiling stomach into submission.
“CAMILE IS SUPERCOOL, isn’t she? Such a guy’s type of girl.” Laura added a shrill giggle. Rhys noticed that she punctuated all her comments about Camile in the same way. The sound was grating on his nerves like a rusted-over hinge.
“Camile is the coolest woman I’ve ever met,” he answered truthfully. “Hands down.”
Camile’s friend was a decent bowler. Camile, on the other hand, bowled like she danced: with the unmitigated grace and skill of an expert. And she managed to look gorgeous, be gracious and act funny while doing it. He loved how she made Willow laugh. His niece adored her. Mostly, it brought Rhys a sort of perverse joy to watch the humble and unassuming Camile wipe the floor with her pretentious and condescending friend.
“I love how she’s so confident in herself that she doesn’t even care how she looks. Look at her scruffy hair! So adorable. Ha ha!”
Rhys was trying to be nice. And he was. Well, nice in that so far, he’d avoided responding to this “praise” in the way that he wanted. The woman had perfected passive-aggressive compliments to an astounding degree, and he was having a difficult time not shutting her down.
The very first frame Camile had bowled a strike, prompting Willow to beg for advice. Whenever it was Willow’s turn, Camile stepped up to help with her technique, leaving him alone with this woman. And every time, she had a barb locked and loaded, which she then launched at Camile’s back in the same sweet-as-sugar tone. Rhys couldn’t believe Camile was friends with her. What he also couldn’t believe was that she’d agreed to bowl a game with them after working for twelve hours. Despite her friend’s obnoxious demand, he knew she’d acquiesced for Willow’s sake. That fact had settled deeply inside him, lighting up all his feelings for her while simultaneously making his distaste for Laura’s commentary even more unbearable. He could see Camile didn’t feel well. She needed to go home and rest. He wondered when she’d eaten last.
“It’s easy to be confident about that when you’re as beautiful as she is,” Rhys said. “No extra effort required.”
“So true!” Laura prattled like a middle schooler and then added, “I’ve never known anyone who could pull off the natural look quite as well as Camile.”
“Woo-hoo!” Willow called and high-fived Camile, who’d bowled her third strike in a row. “You are awesome. How are you so good at this?”
“Thank you.” Camile sank down next to Willow on the opposite bench. When the game started, Rhys had been disappointed when her friend claimed the spot next to him. He’d quickly changed his mind when he realized it gave him an unobstructed view of Camile as she sat facing him.
Camile explained, “I started working here back in high school. The owner, Hal, let us employees bowl for free when it was slow. He’d give us tips and show us stuff. He’s a great guy and an excellent teacher.”
“Excellent teachers are the best,” Rhys said, pinning his gaze firmly on her. “I’m eternally grateful for mine.”
Eyes twinkling, she tossed him a sly, joy-filled smile. Hitting him right in the center of his chest. His very own secret smile. Satisfaction settled into him and he took a moment to enjoy the sensation. Willow pointed at the lane, undoubtedly asking a question. Camile leaned toward her while they chatted. He liked how she talked to Willow. She gave the same attention and consideration to his teenage niece that she did to everyone else.
Rhys marveled at her resilience. All her years of customer service experience had undoubtedly taught her to control her outward persona and to perfect her people skills, no matter how she was feeling on the inside. But he’d also learned that she was one of those naturally engaging people. It spilled out of her. She reminded him of Willow’s mother in that way, kind, cheerful and generous—probably to a fault. Certainly, at her own expense. The kind of friend that made you feel special, the person everyone gravitated toward at a party, the woman that men wanted to spend time with, the woman every other woman wanted to be—or that they wanted to tear down. Like the woman sitting beside him, her jealous, backstabbing non-friend.
Rhys stood and bowled his turn. Willow consoled him with a pat on the back when he missed a spare by one pin. Camile was next and managed another strike while doing a goofy impersonation of him that caused Willow to laugh. And him, too.
“Camile is actually quite intelligent,” Laura said after taking her turn and sitting back down beside him. “Despite her silly antics. I feel terrible about these unfortunate...circumstances she’s dealing with.”
Okay. Enough was enough. Rhys had been avoiding eye contact, hoping she’d get the message that he wasn’t interested in her opinion. But now, he swiveled in his seat and faced her. “What do you mean by that?”
“By what?” she repeated with an innocence so contrived it frayed the last vestige of his patience.
“Aren’t you a psychology major, Laurie?”
“Um, it’s Laur-a. And yes, I have a master’s degree in psychology.”
“With an emphasis in passive-aggressive behavior?”
Another giggle pierced his brain stem, this one tapering to a slightly less confident fervor as she pondered his question. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure what you hope to accomplish here by running Camile down, but I don’t want to hear it anymore.”
“Running her down? I have no idea what you’re talking about! I just meant it’s amazing how well she’s bounced back. You know, considering what happened with her thesis. Not that she won’t fix it, but that kind of failure has to be difficult for someone like her. And then, that awful video. Poor girl. She can’t catch a break lately, can she?”
Obviously, Laura was fishing, trying to discover what he knew about this thesis misfortune, and how well he knew Camile. What failure was she referring to? He wasn’t about to bite, curious though he was.
“You are good at it, I’ll give you that. The fact that you’re so good at it leads me to believe that you’ve had a lot of practice. I suspect it’s your personal addiction—putting Camile down to prop yourself up. In fact, I think the reason you coerced her into bowling with us when she’s already worked twelve hours on four hours’ sleep was so that you could be better than her and show off a bit. That backfired in a big way, didn’t it? But I wonder how many ways you’ve sabotaged her that she’s completely unaware of?”
Her bug-eyed gasp held more surprise than outrage, and he could see he’d exposed a nerve. Leaning toward her slightly, he lowered his voice and added, “But you’re wasting your time here. It’s not going to work with me. If I have my way, and I usually do—” this time he did it on purpose, mispronouncing her name “—Laurie. It’s not going to work anymore at all. Ever again.”