Chapter Twenty-Four

Reese, her mom, and Pixie danced around the Radcliffe kitchen to a Michael Bublé playlist. It was Friday morning, seven thirty a.m. and they’d been baking since six. The game plan? Big, gooey homemade cinnamon rolls to impress the breakfast crowd. Or at least make their stomachs sing with happiness. Reese’s mom had supplied the recipe, a family favorite handed down from a great-aunt, and Pixie supplied the music and ingredients. Together, they’d made the dough, allowed it to rise, and rolled it out with a rolling pin.

“Now we use our fingers to spread the butter,” Reese’s mom said, pouring melted butter over the surface of the dough.

Pixie sang out the words to “Save The Last Dance For Me” as she helped smear melted butter evenly until they’d covered every inch of the unbaked pastry.

“Next, we sprinkle on the cinnamon.” Reese handed Pixie the cup of cinnamon to do the honors. “You can be as generous as you want.”

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: you two are a godsend.” Pixie dotted cinnamon everywhere, the smell of the butter and sugar mixture making Reese’s mouth water.

Seeing Pixie so happy made Reese happy. Being up at the crack of dawn and dancing and baking with the two most important women in her life made for a pretty perfect morning. Special times like this reminded her of how lucky she was to have them both.

“We like them really gooey, so what do you think about a little more butter and cinnamon?” Reese’s mom asked.

“I say you’re the boss.” Pixie bumped hips with her best friend. “If these taste even half as good as they smell, I’ll be the talk of the town.”

Reese melted more butter while her mom mixed together more ground cinnamon and sugar.

“Would you like the honor of rolling it?” Reese’s mom asked.

“Sure!” Pixie rolled the rectangle of dough tightly toward them with total confidence—until the filling oozed out the sides. “Oh no!” She immediately lifted her hands off the dough.

“No worries, that’s supposed to happen, but I can take over if you want.” Reese’s mom playfully bumped shoulders with Pixie and rolled the dough. “The next step is cutting it into slices and placing them in the round cake pans.”

“You cut and I’ll place.” Pixie had bought several disposable foil pans for this morning’s endeavor.

Reese watched her mom and godmother work, repeating the process with another large ball of dough her mom retrieved from the fridge.

Both moms sang about birds flying, fists as microphones, as another Michael Bublé song started. Reese grinned at them.

“What is all that racket?” Nash wandered into the kitchen in black pajama bottoms and a white T-shirt, his hair sticking straight up. He covered a yawn with his hand and took a seat at the kitchen island.

“Good morning,” Reese’s mom said lovingly.

“Excuse you, mister,” Pixie said, also lovingly. “Our singing is most definitely pleasant, but since we’re almost done, Reese, sweetie, will you turn off the music?”

She obliged.

“Ahhh…silence. I thought someone had let a pair of geese loose in the house.” He caught Reese’s eyes with a sparkle in his own. Nash loved to tease their moms.

Reese stepped around the counter to cover the cake pans with kitchen towels and set them aside so they could rise a second time before baking.

“I thought you guys sounded great.” Cam strode into the room wearing navy pajama pants and a faded T-shirt with the words “American Film Institute” across his chest. He kissed his mom on the cheek before pulling a couple of coffee mugs out of the cupboard.

“Kiss-up,” Nash muttered under his breath.
“Someone needs coffee this morning.” Cam poured two cups and handed one to his brother before taking a sip of the other. “What happened to your workout this morning?”

“Took a day off.”

That didn’t sound like Nash. Reese studied his face a little closer. He looked tired, but otherwise fine.

“Looks like the baking is going well,” Cam said. She’d told him last night she and her mom would be over early this morning to help bake so Pixie didn’t screw up her last chance to contribute to the Appreciation Breakfast today.

“So far, so good.” Pixie wiped her hands on her apron. “Reese and Nancy are angels with mad baking skills.”

Cam and Nash both fought smiles. “Nice lingo, Mom,” Cam said.

“Why don’t you make the icing while we clean up?” Reese’s mom suggested to Pixie. “It’s just powdered sugar, milk, and vanilla.” She pointed to the recipe on the sheet of paper she’d printed out. “I don’t think you can mess it up.”

Nash made a short, guttural sound.

Cam choked on his coffee.

“You boys are terrible.” Pixie flicked some flour at them.

“We didn’t say anything.” Nash nodded his head sideways toward his mom, indicating Reese should help with the icing.

She shook her head. Pixie had this. And if she did manage to mess it up, they could make new icing.

“We’re just concerned Rustic Creek citizens.” Cam’s deep morning voice had an especially gravelly quality to it this morning. They’d all gone out to dinner and then her mom and Pixie had come to the guesthouse for some girl time and a few games of Rummikub. They’d stayed until ten and then Reese did some work before falling into bed.

At around eleven, Cam had texted to see if she was awake. The second after she’d texted yes, he’d called. They ending up talking until one.

“Shush you,” Pixie said. “Why don’t you and your brother take your coffee to the couch?”

“I do believe the couch is calling my name,” Nash said.

Cam purposely brushed by her (there was plenty of room to walk around her) on his way out of the kitchen, setting off a flutter in her chest. She quickly focused back on cleaning up, lest Pixie or her mom notice anything. She knew Pixie was already worried about more developments between her and Cam. What would her mom think?

Pixie finished the icing and Reese and her mom dipped their pinky fingers in for a taste. “It’s perfect,” her mom said. It was.

“Hear that boys? It’s perfect,” Pixie bragged. They set the icing aside and finished cleaning up. Try as she might, Reese couldn’t stop herself from stealing glances at Cam. To her delight, each time she found him already peeking at her.

“I’m going to go shower and change,” Reese said once they’d placed the first two cake pans in the oven. “And then I’ll be back to help ice and deliver them.”

“Sounds good.” Pixie beamed at her.

“The three of us are going shopping afterwards,” her mom reminded her.

Reese had forgotten to bring a dress for the cocktail party tomorrow night. “Can’t wait.”

She gave quick hugs to her mom and Pixie and then stole one last look at Cam, but this time found his attention on the news program on TV.

“Bye, guys,” she called out.

They replied in kind and she left. The first thing she did after walking through the door to the guesthouse was collapse on the couch for a quick power-nap. Five hours of sleep equaled a tired Reese.

“You know it’s not safe to leave your door open,” Cam said from the doorway, still in his sleepwear, his feet bare and a coffee mug in his hand. “Someone could come in and steal you.”

“You remember everything, don’t you?” When she was young she always needed doors closed and locked, worried someone like the bogeyman might try and grab her and take her to his evil dungeon.

“Most things.”

“Do you want to steal me?” She wouldn’t put up a fight.

“I think I do.”

“Is that why you’re here? To whisk me away?” She’d go anywhere with him. Do anything. No questions asked.

His expression softened. “Wish I could, but you’d definitely be missed.” He stepped inside, filling the space with the very essence of masculinity.

He took a seat next to her on the couch. Propping his feet up on the coffee table, she admired his fashion model feet. He still had the butterfly she’d drawn on him so they matched. A moment of boredom had struck the other day and she’d gotten out a sharpie. Always a good sport, he’d let her try and copy her tattoo onto the top of his foot. She toed off her flip-flops and rested her feet up beside his. Their butterflies could be cousins at least.

“There a reason you haven’t washed that off yet?” She bumped his foot with hers. Like you lurve it and don’t want to erase it.

“I’ve tried but it won’t come off.”

Oh. “And here I thought you wanted to keep it so we’d be twinsies.”

“Our matching tattoos wouldn’t be butterflies.” He gave her foot a gentle nudge back. “Not that I don’t love your butterfly.”

“What would they be?”

“I don’t know.” Yet sort of hung in the air and she wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“How about you get ‘Stick with me’ on your forearm, and I get ‘Stu’ on mine, and when we put our arms side by side, they fit together.”

“That’s a thought.” He took a sip of his coffee. “But no.”

“Hey.” She elbowed him, careful not to jostle his coffee. “Who put you in charge?”

“I just think we can do better.”

She crossed her arms, sank deeper into the couch, and leaned her side against his. “Words are your superpower.”

“Thanks, Nuzzle.”

“So, what are you doing here interrupting my five-minute power-nap before I hop in the shower?”

“Thought you might need your back washed.”

A shiver shimmied down her spine at the same time she sat straight up and turned to look him in the eyes.

One side of his mouth hitched up in a far too appealing show of sexiness.

“Cam.”

“Reese.”

“You want to take a shower with me right now? While our moms are waiting for me to help ice cinnamon rolls then deliver them and go shopping?”

He set his cup down on the coffee table. His knee touched hers in the process and a jolt of electricity fanned out to all her extremities. “I’ve seen you wet, now I want to make you wet.”

Um, hello tingle between her legs. “While wet.”

“The wetter the better.”

“This is too much wet talk for me at the moment.”

“I’ll stop, then.” He bent his head, touched his forehead to hers. They stayed like that for several heartbeats. “I’m treading water here with no idea what I’m doing.”

She lifted her head and narrowed her eyes at him. “You said water.”

“I know,” he said lightly, attempting to get them back to their typical banter. “But in an entirely different context, so it doesn’t count.”

“True,” she agreed wholeheartedly. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I do, but…”

“My timing is off.” He took her hand and rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. “And what I’m also hearing is you’d like me to woo you before I get you naked.”

“Woo?” God, he was cute.

He grinned. “Being best friends doesn’t mean I should skip on the romance. So,” he said, letting go of her hand and standing, “get ready for some extra attention from yours truly this weekend. I will convince you that we’re great as best friends and something more.”

“What about our families? The townspeople? When we were on the pedal boat, you said you wanted to keep this between us.”

“If you’re okay with people possibly noticing and talking, then I’m okay with it. I’m not going to ride through town on a black stallion and claim you as mine.”

She rose. “You’re not? What kind of woo-er are you?”

“The subtler kind.” He walked backward toward the open door.

She knew that about him and had always liked it. She was more outgoing than him, more carefree, and fickle, but she didn’t need eyes on her.

“The kind who is lucky and proud to be the guy earning your affections,” he added before turning around.

Swoon! After less than a minute, he couldn’t be a better woo-er if he tried.

“Meet me at the town square at three. Don’t be late,” he said over his shoulder.

“I’m never late.”

“Everyone else is simply early,” he replied, quoting one of her favorite movie lines.

She sighed against the door and watched him walk away until he faded from view. She couldn’t wait for what might happen next between them.

…

“I spy another one,” Reese said excitedly. She scribbled in her tiny notepad, determined to beat him at the annual I Spy apple game. The person who spied the most apples hidden around town during Founder’s Day weekend won a…wait for it…apple pie. With bragging rights up for grabs, too, everyone in town took the competition seriously.

He spied another apple, too, and jotted its location quietly. He preferred a sneaky win over Reese. And there was another one, sitting atop the street light. He didn’t think she saw it, so he nudged her to look up. She spied it, smiled at him, then listed the location in her notebook. Yeah, he’d do anything to have her smiles directed at him.

“What do you want to taste next?” he asked, walking down the middle of Main Street past food vendors set up under white tents to share their most popular menu items. People came from all over to sample the northern California cuisine during the Taste of Rustic Creek event.

“I smell something good that way.” She lifted her cute button nose toward Maggio’s, so that’s where they went.

“Hi, you guys!” Josie, part-owner and operator of Maggio’s, and James’s younger sister, grinned at them like she knew a secret (or had caught them kissing on the pedal boat). “How are you? Reese, I can’t believe this is the first—or I guess it would be second, wink wink—time I’m seeing you, which means we need to have coffee.”

“I’d love to. Sorry I haven’t been by Maggio’s sooner. I’m working while here so have been extra busy.”

“No worries,” Josie said. “I get it.” She glanced between him and Reese with a knowing smile that suggested Reese’s “extra busy” also included him. “And it’s about time.” Josie lifted her arm for a fist bump. He went ahead and obliged her.

Reese turned to him with clear and definite fondness in those blue-gray depths of hers, and he almost forgot what they were doing there. “I recommend the Hot Honey,” he managed to say.

“Did you just call me ‘Hot Honey’?”

“You are definitely hot, honey,” Josie said, “but he’s talking about my pizza.”

“Oh!” She spun to face Josie. “Of course. What’s on the Hot Honey?”

Josie put a small slice on a paper plate and handed them each one. “Creamy garlic sauce, salami, red onion, bacon, fresh jalapenos, and a honey drizzle.” Behind her, an employee scooped a calzone out of the portable oven.

“Sounds fantastic.” Reese took a bite of the pizza and mmm’d as she chewed. “It’s delicious.”

Cam had eaten thousands of meals with people and none made him appreciate the necessary act more than Reese. She relished every bite, every new food discovery. She once again reminded him to enjoy life’s simple pleasures. To not take them for granted.

With a line forming at his and Reese’s backs, Josie said, “Can I offer you one more taste?”

“Please and thank you,” Reese said, accepting a meatball smothered in melted mozzarella.

“We’ll talk later!” Josie said as he and Reese walked away.

They ate their meatballs in pleasurable silence as they strolled down the street to check out the different booths. Their parents joined them for a few minutes and playfully argued over the best food.

Reaching the end of street, hand-churned ice cream awaited.

“Hi Reese. Hi Cam,” Colt said, materializing out of the blue. Or the more likely scenario was Cam only had eyes for Reese and hadn’t noticed his approach.

“Hello, Sheriff,” Reese said, even though Colt had plain clothes on. Cam could do without the undisguised interest directed at Reese. Did women fall for that look?

“Please, it’s Colt.”

Cam fisted his hands at his sides. This continued dislike of Colt didn’t sit well.

“We were about to grab some ice cream. Would you like to join us?” Reese asked politely. But just to be sure Colt got the message that her ask was strictly out of good manners, he laced his fingers with hers. She welcomed his hold by tightening her grip.

Colt moved his eyes to Cam’s. Cam gave one tiny shake of his head and knew Colt would walk away, their small-town bro code one they all lived by.

“I wish I could,” Colt said, focusing back on Reese, “but I’m meeting someone. Enjoy the rest of the day.”

“You, too.” Reese gave a small wave in goodbye with her free hand then looked over at him. “You’re cute.”

“Thanks?”

“I like that you were… What’s the right word? Territorial.”

He was, but… “How do you know that?”

“Cam, I’ve been studying you since I was like ten.” She lifted their linked hands. “And then there’s this.”

“Have you been studying Nash and Gael, too?”

“No.” Her unwavering reply hit him square in the chest. He’d felt protective of her since they were kids. Feeling possessive now added another layer of affection for her.

He led her to the ice cream booth and they selected their flavors: chocolate chip for him and chocolate peanut butter cup for her. Homemade waffle cones in hand, they sat down on a bench to share their treats.

When a flower vendor walked by, Cam quickly flagged the woman down and bought a small bouquet for Reese. “You bloom more beautifully every day,” he said, handing her the flowers. The line, while cheesy, was true.

“Nice job woo-ing.” She brought them to her nose, her eyes twinkling at his compliment.

He’d bought flowers for her many times before, when she needed her spirits lifted or for her birthday, so to do it this time just because he wanted to felt especially nice.

He really hoped he didn’t screw this up. He’d meant what he said about having no idea what he was doing. What he did know was he was falling for Reese whether he wanted it to happen or not. Whether his brothers approved or not. And he’d do his best to make sure neither of them got hurt. That their families stayed close.

Across the way, he caught sight of his parents with Reese’s. Best friends forever, they both had strong marriages. Life was far from perfect, but they believed in family and forgiveness.

For the nth time today, Cam’s mind strayed to his screenplay.

“Thinking about your ending?” Reese asked, sharing brainwaves with him again. She took his wrist and brought his ice cream to her mouth for a lick. “Mmm, that’s good. Wanna lick mine?” She held out her cone.

He definitely wanted to lick. He raised his eyebrows in a clearly salacious way.

She bopped his nose with the ice cream. “Do you want to taste my ice cream, Mr. Gutter Mind?”

“I liked where my mind went better.” He wiped the ice cream off his nose.

“Fine.” She took her cone back. “More for me.” Then she slowly and very purposely licked the ice cream. She added an evil grin and glittering eyes to tease him further.

He laughed. A loud belly laugh because she made him so effing happy. Her trademark sunshiny smile replaced the Dr. Evil expression and call him hopeless, but he tortured himself by watching her continue to eat.

“Hi, Cam, is now a good time?”

The friendly question drew his attention away from Reese. “Heather, hey.” Cam focused on the caricature artist he’d paid earlier to draw him and Reese. “Yes, thanks. Reese, this is Heather. Heather, Reese.”

“Hi.” Reese wrapped the remains of her cone in a napkin. He did the same and tossed their trash into a nearby disposal can.

“We’re getting a caricature?” Reese asked him as Heather set up her easel in front of them.

“It’s about time we replaced the one from Universal Studios, don’t you think?” In that one, she was fifteen, he was eighteen, and in L.A. for orientation the summer before he started at USC.

She scooted closer to him on the bench so their sides touched. She laid her head on his shoulder and held her flowers in her lap. “Not replace—to add to our story.”

He liked that answer. They stayed just like that for the drawing, and when it was done and Heather showed it to them, Cam knew he’d already fallen for his best friend.