Blake combed her wet hair in front of the bathroom mirror. She’d just showered, quite quickly, since they had a limited supply of water. Which, according to Sloane, was delivered by truck weekly. Nevertheless, she felt clean and refreshed from her morning run, even if she was already beginning to feel stiff and sore.
“Hey, look at you.” McKenna was in the doorway, arms crossed, devilish grin on her face. “Already up and at ’em and pretty as a peach.”
Blake rolled her eyes and secured the towel around her body. “Yeah, I’m a real stunner. Total heart stopper with my wet head, makeup-free face and old beach towel wrapped around me.”
“I know someone who might think so.”
Blake scoffed. “Don’t even. And no, she would not think so. Trust me on that.”
“I don’t know, Blake,” she said, her voice growing higher. “She sure seemed interested yesterday when Sloane and I told her all about you.”
“What?” Blake fumbled with her toothbrush as she turned to look at her. Then, just as quickly, she tried to downplay her reaction. “Oh. She was probably just being nice. But when, exactly was this?”
McKenna seemed amused and Blake cursed herself for asking.
“Mm, I don’t remember exactly. Sometime yesterday.”
“Like when I was screwing around with that damn grill? Thanks for that, by the way. Setting me up by sending me out there knowing good and well I wouldn’t be able to get it to work without the lighter. I know you did it on purpose.”
“I had to do something to get the two of you alone together. And she seemed more than willing to help when I eventually pointed out my absentmindedness.”
Blake brushed past her, angry in hearing firsthand that McKenna had purposely intended for Cam and her to interact alone, and in remembering just how fierce that interaction had been.
She entered the bedroom she was staying in and dug through her clothes in the dresser drawer. McKenna followed and hovered in the doorway.
“Just what, pray tell, happened out there on the patio last night? Seemed pretty intense from the little that I saw.”
“Little you saw? You’re saying you didn’t spy on us and overhear every word we said? I find that hard to believe.”
“No, Sloane and I retreated to the bedroom and did some unpacking.”
“Yeah, right.”
“So something did happen.”
“As if I’d tell you.” She started shoving clothes aside, frustrated that she couldn’t seem to find anything she wanted to wear.
“Why not?”
“And reward your behavior? Nuh-uh. Don’t think so.”
“Okay, smarty-pants. Then I won’t tell you what was said to Cam about you. Nor what all she seemed interested in knowing.”
Blake shook her head. Laughed. “Wicked, wicked woman.” She grabbed a lavender T-shirt and a pair of gray sweat shorts and tossed them on the bed. Then she slammed the drawer and opened another for panties, but chose to forego the bra. What was a vacation good for without a little freedom? “But I’m not falling for it. Not going to rise to the bait.” She shrugged. “Because I couldn’t care less.”
“Uh-huh,” McKenna said. “I can tell. You seem very calm about the whole thing and completely in control.” She leaned against the dresser as Blake turned from her to drop her towel and dress. “So, I guess I’ll leave you to it then. Just leave you to dress without telling you what all I learned about Cam. Seeing as how you don’t care and all.”
Blake paused.
Know about Cam? She hadn’t mentioned she had info on Cam.
But really, what all could she possibly know?
She glanced over her shoulder. “Fine, whatever.”
“Okay.”
“Yep, okay.”
“Okay, well, seeing as how you’re already showered and dressed, you can be the one to go over to Cam’s to get the food for breakfast.”
Blake whipped around in her T-shirt and panties. “Wha—no. Oh, no. No way. You’re not doing that to me. I’m not going to be a pawn in your little game.”
“If you truly don’t care, Blake, then it shouldn’t be an issue for you to go over there, should it?”
Blake clamped her mouth closed.
Damn you, Kenna. You wicked, wicked woman. Clever as hell, you are.
“Okay, fine. I’ll go. But she may not be up yet, she—” But McKenna cut her off in the midst of her attempt to fib.
“Oh, I’m sure she is. See, that’s one of the things I learned about her. She gets up before sunrise. Doesn’t sleep very well apparently, and seeing the sunrise every morning has become something she looks forward to.”
“Why doesn’t she sleep—?” The question slipped out before she could catch it, which only seemed to please McKenna.
“So, anyway, she should be up.” She started to walk away. “Don’t be too much longer changing outfits and what not, worrying about how you look. I’m hungry.”
“I’m not going to change—” But she glanced back at the bed at her sweat shorts and then down at her chest. She needed the bra.
Damn.
She started tugging off her shirt. “I’m ready.”
But McKenna was gone. Blake hurriedly put on a bra, slipped her shirt back on and pulled on a different, albeit nicer pair of shorts, hoping McKenna wouldn’t notice. Then she rushed into the bathroom and frowned at her hair and the dark circles beneath her eyes. But she couldn’t primp, because she didn’t care, right?
Who cares what a woman I hardly know thinks anyway?
She ran some mousse through her hair, tousled and crimped it with her hands, and then headed for the back door where she was faced with another decision.
Shoes or no shoes? If she wore shoes it may imply that she’d put forethought into her visit, something she didn’t want Cam assuming. The shoes would also undoubtedly fill with sand and she really hated the way those minuscule grains ground their way into the soles of her feet.
She looked to McKenna who was sitting at the kitchen table, staring out at the sea.
“Do you think I should wear—?”
McKenna looked at her, waiting for her to finish.
“Never mind.” She opened the door and crossed the patio in her bare feet. She walked through the deep sand to Cam’s while repeating a mantra in her mind.
She’s just a neighbor.
Just a person, like anyone else.
Though the words replayed on a continuous loop, sometimes even coming out upon whispers, they weren’t able to stop the acceleration of her pulse as she neared the steps to Cam’s patio. By the time she was standing at their base, staring up at the small, framed, Mexican art hanging between the two large windows, her heart was thudding harder than it had during her morning run.
She scanned the remainder of the space, took in the raw wood of the rustic accent tables, the rug with the elaborate Aztec design, the lush plants in terra-cotta pots in the corners. They were beautiful details that her mind was absorbing but she knew she wouldn’t be able to process them properly until later. Right now she was too overloaded with anxiousness to do anything but struggle with the next insurmountable decision.
Should I call out to her from here or walk up onto the patio?
Why aren’t the dogs barking? Haven’t they seen me yet?
Should I wait for them to see me or should I knock on the door?
Normally, she’d have no issue whatsoever in bounding up to someone’s patio to knock on their door. But with Cam it was different. She wasn’t sure she was welcome. She took a tentative step up, then another, until she stood quietly on the rug. She waited. Listened. Noted the unusual designs of patina copper in the framed wall art.
But as far as movement from inside the house, there was nothing.
She looked at the large windows, wondering if Cam was watching her from behind the reflective glass. Watching her as she had a full-blown anxiety attack on her Aztec rug. The thought of that made her swallow down the ball of fear wedged in her throat and cross to the wood door where she knocked.
The dogs barked immediately but they didn’t sound close. With every passing second, however, their barks grew louder. She snuck a look through the window in the door and saw them running toward her.
She spoke to them, unable to resist, expecting their excitement to cease at any moment with a command from Cam. But that didn’t happen.
Is she not home?
She hadn’t even thought to check for her vehicle before she’d come. Her stomach dropped, like she’d just plummeted down the steep hill of a rollercoaster. It wasn’t a reaction she’d experienced before and it definitely didn’t feel anything like relief in not having to face her. Which, if anything, she surmised, was what she should be feeling.
No, this was different. This was more like…
Disappointment.
But not just any ordinary sense of disappointment. This was stronger, deeper.
She felt it in her gut.
She turned to walk away, realizing just how badly she’d wanted to see her, to once again engage with her. She was confused by that and embarrassed. Embarrassed at her own feelings. She hadn’t seen them clearly until now and that worried her. Another thing that worried her was her apparent inability to control them.
The dogs stopped barking behind her, but she assumed it was because she was leaving. She was just about to descend the steps when she heard the soft click of the door opening and a voice. A smooth, familiar voice.