Chapter Seven
“Okay, here’s what I’m thinking,” Reese said from her usual spot on the couch, a cup of hot cocoa in one hand and her laptop leaning precariously to the side in her lap.
Cam sipped his coffee from his spot in the comfortable armchair adjacent to the couch and tried to move the laptop securely back into her lap with his mind. It didn’t work, but she righted it with her free hand before he reached out to make sure it didn’t fall.
They’d spent yesterday here in the guesthouse doing their respective jobs. Although doing might be a stretch considering, even after all the fun they’d had the night before, he hadn’t unblocked any serious writing mojo. Instead, he’d written a ridiculously over-the-top car chase to make Reese laugh and she’d put aside reading a script to write dialogue to go along with it. Their main characters, Hank and Spank, were trying to get away with stealing hundreds of pounds worth of Vieux-Boulogne, the smelliest cheese in the world, on the hottest day of the year, with no air-conditioning and child locked windows—oh, and was that a honey badger in the back seat of the stolen vehicle?
He blinked away the memory and focused back on Reese. She’d decided that today, no matter what, she was starting her screenplay.
“A baker finds a dead body in her kitchen and the detective who shows up to solve the crime is the hot new neighbor she keeps butting heads with. He’s all walk in a straight line, and she’s all walk on the wild side, her unique bakery items proof she’s anything but boring.”
Cam scrubbed a hand over the stubble on his jaw. He’d pegged her for a romcom the second she’d issued the challenge. “I like it.”
“Really?”
“I think you’ll enjoy writing it.”
“I think so, too. Now what about you? You feeling it today? Because I know you can do it. And if you need help, we could set a timer and see who writes the most pages. Winner gets bragging rights. Unless you’re chick-ennn.” A grin accompanied the emphasis on “N.”
“How about we see how this morning goes before we turn up the competition.”
“Fair enough.” She stood and walked over to the kitchen to put her mug in the sink. He followed her in his periphery, checking out her toned legs and cute ass. He couldn’t help himself.
The ringing of his phone thankfully drew his attention away. He picked it up off the coffee table and upon seeing the caller ID, debated letting it go to voicemail. On the third ring, he answered it. “Hey, Leo.”
“Cam, how are you?”
“Good. You?”
“Depends. How’s the script coming? Deena is breathing down my neck for it.”
Reese sat back down on the couch, a look of concern on her face. He appreciated her support, but she needn’t worry. “It’s—”
“Disney has a similar project in the works so we need this to be bigger and better. You can deliver, right?”
“Right.” Cam sank deeper into the chair. As his body deflated, Reese’s grew more rigid. She leaned forward like she wanted to hear the other side of his conversation.
“That didn’t sound very convincing.”
“I’ll have it done.” Even though worry plagued him, he kept telling himself he had this.
“I’m counting on this screenplay,” Leo asserted.
“I know.” Leo cared more about the product than the person behind it, a fact made increasingly more important over the past year. Cam understood it was the nature of the beast, but it didn’t feel great.
Everything okay? Reese mouthed.
He nodded.
Leo was the guy who’d brokered the deals on his films, helping to get Cam where he was today, so his self-serving, tough-as-nails mentality wasn’t without its merits.
“How’s the family?” Leo asked, sounding almost interested. Then, “Apologies, I’ve got to take another call. Talk later.” Click.
Cam put his phone face down on the coffee table and met Reese’s expectant gaze. “Leo’s being Leo?” she asked.
“If you mean abrupt and insistent, then yes.”
“He’s just trying to help.”
“I know, but something seems off with him. On top of the pressure I already feel, he’s pushing me harder than ever. It’s like he’s taking it personally. Believe me, I know there’s a lot riding on this script.” He looked away for a moment. “Thanks for all the motivation you’re giving me. It helps a lot to know you’re always in my corner.”
A look of shame briefly clouded her expression before she blinked it away. “I am. Your career is important to me, too. You’ve worked really hard to get here and I hope you know how much I admire you.” She clasped her hands and stretched her arms and fingers. “Shall we kick some deadline butt now?”
“Let’s do it,” he said.
…
The guesthouse smelled delicious, courtesy of the cake Reese had baked during a break from work and screenwriting. She’d started out wanting to bake something unusual as research for her heroine, but the recipes she found online were a bit too elaborate for the ingredients she had on-hand. She settled on a chocolate cake with lemon frosting and if she tilted her head about forty-five degrees, then the cake looked perfectly straight.
After a quick shower, she slipped on her favorite pale green sundress, slid her feet into flip-flops, and headed out the door with the cake in her hands. The tingles on the backs of her knees were new, a byproduct of all the time she’d spent with Cam the past few days. They’d never had so much in common before. Reading scripts gave her new insight into his job, and how she could be a critique partner. They talked “shop” in a way they hadn’t before and she liked it.
And more than once they’d exchanged glances that blurred the line between friendship and wanting to see each other naked. The heat in his eyes practically singed her clothes.
Halfway to the main house, her phone buzzed with a text. She carefully balanced the cake in one hand and pulled the phone out of her pocket. Leo. Again. She had him listed as Agent A. A for Asshat.
At least he said “please” this time.
Knowing that if she didn’t respond right away, he would keep bugging her, she put the cake down and texted him back: Progressing nicely. She pocketed the phone, picked up the cake, and resumed walking the rest of the way.
Pixie opened the front door. “Hi, sweetie! You know you don’t have to ring the doorbell. And what is that?”
“I baked a cake for dessert.” Reese stepped inside the house. “I wanted to do something nice for you guys, but it was also research.”
“For your heroine,” Pixie said, pride and joy in her voice. She loved hearing about Reese’s screenplay. Not that there was much to it yet. It was much easier to talk about the story than actually write it.
“Yes.”
Pixie paused in the long hallway. “How’s the competition going? Is it helping Cam?” She didn’t know about Reese’s arrangement with Leo—no one did—but the family knew about their little challenge.
“I don’t know. A little maybe? I can see he’s still struggling, which is very unsettling. He’s always been so prolific and disciplined.”
She nodded. “Give it time. I think writing together is wonderful inspiration. You warm my heart with how much you care.”
“He makes it easy.”
“How did I get so lucky to have three amazing sons and you as a goddaughter?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s thanks to you and my mom.” Reese smiled with appreciation. “And I mean that beyond the friendship you two have. You encouraged us and never made us feel bad about our choices.”
Pixie’s eyes filled with affection. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Reese followed her toward the kitchen. The large but cozy house held an air of sophistication wrapped in warmth that always put Reese at ease. Neutral tones with soft edges. Plush rugs on the dark hardwood floor. Beautiful photographs on the walls. They entered the kitchen, an open concept with a large family room and dining area. The guys were already seated at the table.
“Hi, Reese! Dinner was ready a little earlier than expected, so come take a seat.” Paul gestured toward the empty chair next to Cam.
She put the cake on the kitchen counter. “Hi, everyone. It smells great. Thanks for cooking for me, Paul.”
“You don’t have to thank me. It’s always a pleasure to make your favorite dish.”
Her mouth watered as she and Pixie sat down, Paul’s delicious spaghetti and meatballs on a large platter in the middle of the table. Her bottom had barely hit the chair before lively conversation and the passing of food took place. They discussed football and Founder’s Day and then…
“You know, Nitro, I’m pretty upset you didn’t choose a quarterback for the hero in your screenplay.” If she were to write a quarterback, he’d definitely have Nash’s looks and personality. Maybe even the birthmark under his right eye, a blemish Nash was teased about as a kid.
“Or better yet, a mechanic,” Gael said.
Reese turned her attention to Gael. He was equally attractive inside and out. When he worked on cars, or the art he liked to create in his free time, his natural talent and hard work were an admirable combination.
“Or better still,” Cam interjected, “a screenwriter who goes into the bakery every day to write and eat her delicious—”
“Dude! Keep it G-rated at the dinner table,” Nash said.
Reese shook her head—along with Pixie and Paul—slightly embarrassed, but used to Nash’s innuendos.
“Cupcakes,” Cam announced. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“How is your screenplay coming, Cam?” Paul interjected. Picture Sean Connery from Never Say Never Again and that was Paul Radcliffe.
“It’s coming.”
Sensing Cam didn’t want to talk about it, Reese looked at Paul and said, “I hear I should be calling you ‘Mayor’ more often.”
Paul chuckled, her comment having the desired effect.
Talk turned to the fire alarm, town safety, and the kid, or kids, they hadn’t been able to catch pouring liquid soap into the fountain in the town square. Reese relaxed in her chair, soaking up every word, and thankful to be part of this wonderful family. At home, with just her mom and dad, dinners were decidedly less boisterous.
“That reminds me of the time you kids put bubble bath in the jacuzzi,” Pixie said.
“And then turned on the jets,” Nash added with an I-did-it grin.
“The bubbles went over our heads.” Reese vividly remembered that late afternoon. “And then instead of getting mad you and my mom joined us.”
Pixie glanced at each of them. “The damage was done so we figured why not join the fun.”
“That fun cost me a fortune to fix,” Paul said.
“We paid you back,” Cam said.
“You did?” Reese should have had to pay something back, too, since she’d willfully participated.
“Dad gave the gardener the rest of the summer off and had us mow the lawn.” Gael made a face. “And pull weeds.”
Paul grinned. “That’s right. I did.”
“I should have had to do some work, too.”
“Nitro, you’re the favorite child, so no way was Papa Bear here”—Gael thumbed toward Paul—“going to have you lift a finger.”
Paul looked at her fondly. “You regularly followed along with whatever idea these boys concocted.”
“Besides,” Pixie said, “we’ve always wanted your visits here to be about having fun.”
Reese leaned over to hug Pixie. “I’ve always had the best time when I’m here.”
Nash turned the conversation to a news item, but Reese only heard every other word. Cam’s knee brushed hers and all she could concentrate on was where they touched and how nice it felt, and it should not feel nice!
A few minutes later, they finished dinner and Cam, Nash, and Gael did the dishes while she, Paul, and Pixie continued to chat. The guys gave each other a hard time over who washed and who dried and who loaded the dishwasher the correct way. Gael whipped a dish towel at Nash. It made a snapping sound, but didn’t even faze the muscular athlete. Cam laughed, then dodged right when the dish towel came his way. Even when messing around, they clearly shared a deep-rooted devotion to one another.
Paul stood and walked over to the cake. “Who wants dessert?” He grabbed some plates and a cake knife. Cam pulled forks out of a drawer.
“It’s chocolate with a lemon frosting,” Reese said, getting to her feet with Pixie.
“Who do we know that loves lemon?” Nash cupped his jaw in a thinking position. “Me!”
Reese had forgotten that, but she didn’t want to ruin Nash’s delight, so she simply smiled.
“Why don’t we take our slices upstairs and let the kids hang out,” Pixie said to Paul.
“Get my wife alone? Sounds good.” Paul cut six slices, handing a plate to Pixie then grabbing one for himself.
“Good night.” Pixie kissed each of her son’s cheeks, then Reese’s. “Love you.” Her eyes touched on each of them before she and Paul headed upstairs.
Cam handed Reese a piece of cake. “Should we sit on the couch?”
“Sure.” She followed him to the L-shaped brown leather sectional. A huge flat screen took up one wall, a bookcase another, and family photographs yet another. She purposely sat on one end of the couch while he sat on the other. Gael took the spot next to her. Nash followed with four glasses of milk on a tray.
How cute was it that the pro football player drank milk and thus everyone else had to?
The four of them had hung out like this numerous times in the past, talking about life and giving and receiving advice. They’d watched movies and played games and teased each other. Reese might be an only child, but she was never lonely when she visited Rustic Creek.
Nash raised his glass. “To friendship and family.” They all clinked glasses and echoed Nash’s sentiment.
“This is really good,” Gael said after taking a bite of cake.
“It is,” Cam agreed.
“I third it.” Nash winked at her. Like a brother might wink at a sister.
She took her own bite, her mind wandering to her screenplay and what her heroine might add to the cake to make it more exciting. Then she wondered if that really mattered. Who cared about the cake when there was a murder to solve and a detective and baker to get together.
“Movie or game?” Gael asked, always falling back into the easy camaraderie between them. “Your pick, Nitro.”
“Game.” She’d been reading so many scripts that she wasn’t in the mood to watch a movie.
Nash put his empty plate down on the coffee table. “How about Never Have I Ever without the drinking.” He patted his stomach. “Since I’m in training.”
“The last time we played that was so embarrassing,” she complained. She wasn’t exactly innocent but compared to these three she was a perfect angel.
“How about This or That instead?” Cam offered, giving acceptance to her hesitation but also issuing a friendly challenge. The question also brought a slim quirk to his mouth.
Reese stared him down with narrowed eyes. “Sounds good. I’ll go first. Cam, lake or ocean?”
Cam had this way of looking at her like he wanted to give her the moon at the same time he wanted to throw down the gauntlet. “Lake.”
“Reese,” Nash said, jumping right in, “football or baseball?” His playful timbre and silly question told her the milk had gone straight to his head. She inwardly laughed at the silly thought.
“That’s a tough one.”
He threw a couch pillow at her.
“Okay, fine. Football.”
“Dude, could you be any more obvious?” Gael said. “Reese, painting or drawing?”
“Drawing, I think. You?”
“I’ve got to go with painting.”
“Says the guy who can paint us all under the table,” Cam said with pride. “Reese, day or night?”
She loved that after all these years of friendship, there was still some mystery between them. “Night. I love the stars and a full moon, and when it’s dark outside it’s easier to sneak around.”
“Easier to lose your clothes, too.” This from Nash, whose mischievous grin charmed more than anything else.
“You mean easier for the girl because she can’t see your face.” Gael high-fived Cam.
“She can feel it, though, right where it counts.”
Reese cleared her throat before they went completely off the rails. “Nash, pancakes or waffles?”
“Waffles.”
“I agree,” she said. “Especially Belgian waffles. Yum.” Without thought, she licked her lips.
And three sets of male eyes zeroed in on her mouth. Oops. “Gael, podcast or playlist?” she asked.
“That’s a tough one.” He thought about it for a moment. “Playlist Monday through Saturday and podcasts on Sunday.”
“Way to work an answer.” Cam sat forward, elbows on his knees. “Reese, good morning texts or good night texts?”
A single butterfly fluttered behind her belly button at the endearing question. Had they never talked about that? She guessed not. “No one’s really done either for me but if I had to pick, I’d say good morning. That way I’d be sure to have a happy day, no matter what.” At his sweet expression, she said, “Hand-holding or PDA?”
He maintained eye contact, adding a few more flutters to her stomach. “Hand-holding. I like to give my undivided attention in private.” They continued to stare at each other. “Neck kisses or forehead kisses?” he asked her.
“Neck kisses.” The softer voice she used was unintentional. Was there anyone else in the room with them? It didn’t feel like it. “Shower or bubble bath?”
“Shower with plenty of—”
“You two want to get a room?” Nash asked good-naturedly, breaking her connection with Cam.
Holy fork, they’d gotten a little carried away.
She laughed off Nash’s question and ignored his frown. Like, what a ridiculous thing for him to say. Her and Cam alone in a bedroom? Please. What would they do?
Everything, her dirty mind said.
Nothing, the best friend side of her fired back. Besides, they’d slept in the same room before, easy peasy, lemon squeezy.
“This was fun.” She faked a yawn. “But I’ve got a script I should finish reading tonight. Thanks for hanging out.” She rose from the couch.
“Anytime,” Nash said. He, Gael, and Cam all stood. Pixie had definitely instilled good manners in her sons.
She gathered their plates and took them to the kitchen sink.
“I’ll walk you back,” Cam said, making her jump. She hadn’t heard him follow her.
“You don’t need to do that.”
“I know.” They stepped onto the porch together. “About what just happened…” he trailed off, hands in the front pockets of his stylish sweatpants as they continued toward the guesthouse.
“It was nothing. We got a little carried away is all. I call it the Nash influence.”
“The Nash influence?”
“Yes, he loves to infer dirty and sexual things, which in turn gets the people around him thinking them.”
“Okay, but in this case…”
They’d gone there on their own. Of course Mr. Smarty McSmartyPants would realize that. She spun and faced him, took backward steps. “Sugar Rush.”
He raised an eyebrow. Just one brow, in that sexy way of his.
“When a person eats sugar, the brain produces a surge in dopamine, which in turn makes them think of pleasurable things and then sometimes talk about them.”
“You should put that in your screenplay.”
“You’re right! I should. Look at that, we’re back to brainstorming like the best friends we are.” She turned back around.
“Basically, we should never mix Nash and sugar.”
“Exactly.”
“We good, then?”
“Always.” She stopped a few feet from the step up to the guesthouse. Frogs croaked in the distance, and her ears perked up. She hadn’t noticed the deep, hoarse sound before tonight. “Do you hear that?”
Cam inclined his head away from the guesthouse and toward the creek at the rear of the property. “You want to go take a look?”
“Does a butterfly have wings?”
She practically skipped beside him past the pool, across the grass, through some trees, and down a short cobblestone path, until they reached a clearing and a creek several feet wide, water slowly streaming eastward.
“Watch your step,” Cam said.
“Watch yours, too.” There were frogs everywhere. More than she ever remembered seeing. Including little ones hopping over each other. “They’re leapfrogging!”
Cam bent down to pick one up, then handed it to her. She giggled when the tiny thing tickled her palm. “They’re so cute.” Then it leaped right out of her hands. “Oh!” Thankfully, it landed on the ground with ease and hopped on its merry way.
The frogs ribbited nonstop, drowning out any other sounds.
“Remember the summer we had a contest to see who could catch the most?” she asked.
“Nash and Gael were pissed that you won.”
“They were pissed that you helped me win.”
“It wasn’t my fault all the frogs in my jar leaped into your jar.”
“I’ve always loved all the wildlife here. Did I ever tell you about the praying mantis I kept in a shoebox? I poked holes in the lid and put grass and dirt inside the box. I was so proud of myself for catching it and making it a home. When my mom found out, she told me it would probably die if I kept it, so I let it go. That’s the only other animal I’ve caught besides the frogs and toads here.”
“I went to school with a frog in my pocket once.” Cam kept his eyes on the creek bank, his tone indicating the memory was one he hadn’t thought of in a while.
“It didn’t get mushed?”
“It was in a zippered pocket in my jacket.”
Reese stepped closer to him, seeking something or to give something, she wasn’t sure. “Did you take it with you for a reason?”
“I wanted to give it to someone, but I got caught with it before I had a chance and the teacher took it away.”
“Your first crush?”
“No. A kid who’d lost his mom to cancer.”
“Cam.” She wrapped her arms around one of his as they both faced the creek. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to give it to him.”
He let out a breath. “I didn’t even really know him.”
“But you knew how he felt,” she whispered. He leaned against her, using her for support like he’d done so often over the years. Cam’s parents, along with Nash’s and Gael’s, had died in a private plane crash while on vacation together. After a malfunction with the engine, the plane had plunged into the ocean. Reese’s mom had told her the whole story, and Cam had shared his feelings with her, reluctantly at first. As they got older, he’d opened up much more.
“Did you talk to him?”
“No. A few days later he and his dad moved away. Not that I would have said anything to him. I was eight, and not very good with words.”
She squeezed his arm. “You’re a good person. And excellent with words now.”
“There was also the time I put a frog down the front of Nash’s shorts.”
She bumped his hip. “I’m sure he deserved it.”
“To tell you the truth, I can’t remember why I did it. Whatever the reason, it was worth seeing him jump around and squeal like a girl.”
“Like a girl?” She let go of him and put her hands on her hips.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he backtracked, a look of oh crap on his face. “Have you heard him scream? His voice goes up a few octaves, making him sound less manly.”
“You’re not helping your case.” She eyed him from his T-shirt to his sweatpants and back up. “There’s only one way to redeem yourself.”
He eyed her from the scooped neckline of her sundress to her flip-flops and back up. “If you dish it out, you’ve got to take it.”
“Absolutely.”
They bent at the same time and each picked up a frog, never taking their eyes off each other. “Ladies first,” he said.
The frog squirmed in her hand, making her smile. Cam’s playful expression might have had something to do with it, too. She pulled the elastic waist of his sweatpants—and that of his boxers—away from his stomach and dropped the frog inside. On the release, the material snapped against his skin.
He quickly lifted the neckline of her dress away from her skin and dropped his frog.
They immediately hopped around like two people dancing over hot lava as they tried to rid themselves of the tiny amphibians. Neither of them squealed, but…
“Oh, oh, oh,” Cam chanted, sticking his hand down his pants.
“Yuck, yuck, yuck,” Reese repeated, wiggling her shoulders. “It’s in my bra!” This was her comeuppance for buying an ill-fitting bra with cups a little too big. It meant there was room for a baby frog to slide inside! She put her hand down her dress, but when she got hold of the harmless animal, it slipped through her fingers.
Cam pulled his hand out of his pants in victory. He released the frog then turned slightly to adjust himself. “Need a hand?” he asked, waving at her.
She cracked up. That’s exactly what she needed, Cam’s hand down her dress. Not! He laughed too, as if realizing what he’d just implied.
“I’m good!” She finally got the little bugger in her grasp. Pulling her hand free, she let the frog jump off her palm to freedom. She adjusted her bra and fixed the neckline of her dress then looked up to find Cam watching her intently.
Running her hands down her sides, she straightened her back. “I’d say we both sounded like mature adults there, wouldn’t you?”
“One of us did,” he teased.
“Shut up!” She gave him a little push to the chest.
He wiped his hand down the front of his shirt. “I definitely need a shower now.” Their eyes met. “I mean, shit, you know what I mean. Just a normal shower. Not—”
“I know.” She also knew they could never play the kind of game they’d played tonight in the family room ever again. Not as long as this uninvited awareness existed between them. It’s just a phase. It will pass.
It had to.