*Cam settled in the corner of Harper’s overstuffed sofa, remembering sitting here with Aidan Flaherty as the former TV superstar bemoaned falling hard for Holly Santos. Recalled how he’d envied Aidan’s chic Hollywood lifestyle until he’d learned that Aidan preferred River’s Edge and longed only for a life with Holly and her son Matt. Aidan had gotten his heart’s desire, and now Cam envied him even more. He wanted that—to settle down with a wife, a family, the white picket fence, the whole thing. He chuckled to himself—not that Aidan could, by any stretch of the imagination be called settled down, since he was still making films, producing shows on the River Queen, helping Holly at the Tea Leaf, as well as raising a teenager and a toddler with her. But the aura of happiness glowing around that family made Cam hungry for more.
And how he wanted that more to include Harper Gaines, who’d just placed a tray with a pot of hot chocolate, two mugs, a dish of mini marshmallows, and a plate of Christmas cookies on the old trunk that served as a coffee table. She poured, dropped a handful of marshmallows into a mug of hot cocoa, and handed it to him before curling up into the other end of the sofa.
Tendrils of dark blonde hair brushed against her pink cheeks, and Cam ached to reach across and brush them back behind her ears just for the pleasure of touching her soft skin.
He reached for a cookie instead and took an appreciative bite. “You’ve been baking?”
“Hardly,” she scoffed. “Paula’s been baking. Her cookies are so good, I don’t even feel the need to bake this Christmas.”
“Have you been a cookie baker before?” Cam took a chance with the question, too aware that he could easily set off another dark moment of memories. He wanted her to talk to him, to open up so he could know her, even if it meant that sad memories might surface.
Surprisingly, she only grinned. “Not really. I sorta suck in the kitchen. It was a sore spot between Drew’s mom and me because she’d always been like the perfect wife, mother, housekeeper and I’m … well, I’m not.” She shrugged. “I can make some things, but I never was terribly interested in learning to cook. Bored the heck out of me. I was too focused on art and books and being outdoors, I guess. My sister, who’s at Michigan State—nutritional science—is a dynamite cook and can pretty much tell you the science behind any dish she makes. Roseanne would’ve loved having Shawna for a daughter-in-law. At least she wouldn’t have worried about her son starving.”
“Roseanne?”
“Drew’s mother. He cooked when he was home. He loved being in the kitchen. When we bought our house, I turned remodeling the kitchen over to him and it’s pretty much set up for a gourmet chef. Wolf range, Sub-Zero fridge, built-in wine cooler, plus an outdoor kitchen on the patio that’s pretty fancy.” She chuckled. “The kitchens were his territory. Oh, I can make good coffee, but that was self-defense. Drew didn’t drink coffee.” Harper added a couple more marshmallows to her hot chocolate and sipped it, a faraway look in her eyes. Then she blinked. “What about you? Do you cook?”
Cam dropped a few more marshmallows in his own cocoa. “I manage.” He shook his head. “Actually, I’m a pretty fair cook. You should taste my pork tenderloin and roasted root vegetables.”
“Roasted root vegetables?”
“You know, beets, turnips, sweet potatoes, butternut squash, carrots, parsnips … and a red onion, olive oil, crushed rosemary, kosher—” He stopped as she pressed a fist against her clamped lips. “What?”
“You going to give me the whole recipe?” she asked, chuckling. “Because I promise you there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that I’ll ever make it or even remember it, and besides you lost me at turnips and parsnips. I don’t even know what those are.”
Cam’s heart turned over at the merriment in her expression, even if it was somewhat at his expense. It was good to see her laugh. “Root vegetables,” he said, then burst out laughing too. He set his mug on the table beside him, being careful to use the pottery coaster.
She shook her head. “You’re a man of many talents, Cameron Walker. Why haven’t you been snatched up yet? Heck, you even know how to use a coaster. Seems like you’d be quite a catch.”
He sucked in a breath, debating and then decided to spill his whole sad story. Why not? Someone would eventually tell her anyway, probably Anna, who believed Scarlett Pierce—even on her best day—was never good enough for him. Just hearing Scarlett’s name made his big sister angry, which was the reason she always referred to his ex-fiancée as she who must not be named. “I was engaged once.”
She quirked a brow. “Were you now? Do tell.”
“Not much to tell,” he replied with a shrug. “She left me at the altar.”
“No way.”
“Yep.”
She stared in disbelief. “Like literally at the altar?”
“Right there in front of a church full of wedding guests.” He sighed. “When the minister said that line about speak now or forever hold your peace, she dropped my hand and said, well … maybe…”
Harper’s jaw dropped. “Seriously?”
“Totally.” For the first time in five years, the flash of anger that usually occurred when he thought about that day didn’t manifest. Instead, he warmed to the subject. “We’d spent over fifteen thousand dollars on that bash—money we’d saved together for two years—and she’s suddenly looking at me like I’m some guy she’s never met before.” He took a deep breath. “She shrugged and said, I don’t think so, Cam, pulled off her veil, and walked. Right down the aisle, out the doors, and I never saw her again.”
“Never?” Harper’s voice dripped disbelief.
Cam shook his head.
“What about all her stuff?”
“’Bout a week after the non-wedding, I was at Joe’s and my neighbor called. She saw her and some guys loading stuff into the back of a van—like a secret mission. I rushed home, but house keys on the counter were all that was left of her. That’s when I changed all the locks to the keyless digital.”
“You never found out why?”
“Guess she didn’t want to be married to me.”
“Where is she now?”
“Dunno. Don’t care.”
Harper’s eyes narrowed and her lips twisted. “Really?”
Cam’s belly tightened. He’d put that time away, stopped thinking about it because it was way less painful to develop a don’t-give-a-damn attitude than to simmer in anger. For reasons he’d never explored, he hadn’t gone looking for Scarlett. The humiliation of being left had been so complete, he wasn’t interested in ever seeing or speaking to her again, although he’d left her number in his phone. After a few months of total silence, he blocked and deleted it, and he even stopped driving past her parents’ house hoping to see her car.
He swallowed hard, suddenly unsure he really wanted to go back to that moment. It was the reason he’d kept his relationships casual, the reason he figured he presented a challenge to single women in town. Each woman he dated believed she’d be the one who could heal his heart, but no one had even come close. In five years, the anger and pain had pretty much subsided. He’d stopped wondering what he’d done wrong, why she’d suddenly dropped off the face of the earth. But at Harper’s expectant expression, he let the memories wash over him. Scarlett’s long dark hair, chocolate-caramel eyes, and tiny body. Her laugh, which always turned him on, her quick wit and insatiable curiosity about practically everything. She’d been as close to perfect as any man could want—smart, sexy, fun—and Cam had been crazy in love.
That love had kicked him in the teeth. He’d dated with abandon after that, letting Joe and his other friends fix him up, making sure every woman knew he was in it for the fun, nothing more. He kept his heart firmly sealed, determined to never allow any woman to get close enough to destroy him like that again.
Until now … maybe…
The first time he’d seen Harper Gaines, something inside him opened up. Not merely lust because he’d naturally felt that since Scarlett, but a true desire to know her, spend time with her, take care of her. It was new and heady and scary and wonderful all at once.
“Cam?” Harper’s soft voice brought him back to the apartment and his cooling hot chocolate. “I didn’t mean to upset you with my questions. Feel free to tell me it’s none of my business.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I just don’t usually talk about it … her, I mean.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” It was time, despite Anna telling him earlier to take it slow.
He was falling in love—those old familiar feelings that he’d protected himself from for so long were rising to the surface. His heart was full, and if he didn’t speak his mind, he was pretty sure it was going to burst. It was a risk. She might shut him down with one quelling look, send him away forever, but he had to take at least a step toward more than mere friendship with this lovely, fragile woman.
He set his cup aside, turned on the sofa, and reached across the cushion that separated them to grasp her hand. “I want to tell you everything. What is it about you, Harper Gaines? Just looking at you, I want to spill my whole life story.” He knew the answer, but he needed to know if she did. When she didn’t answer, he squeezed her hand gently. “And even more, I want yours.”
*
Cam’s intense expression sent a frisson of longing through Harper—a sensation she hadn’t felt in so long she almost didn’t recognize it. And when she finally did, when his fingers knit with hers, she didn’t draw away. Instead, she gazed at their joined hands and confessed, “You scare me.”
He cocked his head and peered into her face. “I scare you?”
“I’ve been in such pain, so lost for almost two years…”
“I know and I swear I’m not—” He stopped when she pulled her hand away and placed her fingers against his lips.
“Such incredible pain, Cam. Everything hurt. For a while, I even stopped taking showers because the water hurt like needles piercing my skin. I soaked instead, sometimes for over an hour, until the water turned cold and I had to get out. The agony is so great, you truly think you can’t survive. But you do. For months, I was amazed that I was still alive each morning … amazed and disappointed. Not that I wanted to kill myself—I didn’t. I just didn’t want to live in a world without Drew, you know?”
Cam’s gray eyes darkened with emotion and she could feel how much he wanted to take her in his arms. But he didn’t.
Instead, he shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “When Scarlett left, I was so pissed, there wasn’t room for anything else.” He raked his hand through his hair that was so thick, it just fell back into place—tousled and glossy. “So pissed, but there was no place to put that anger. She was gone. I left the church and drove home. Sat in the dark for a few hours, ignoring my phone blowing up with texts and calls. Finally, I went into the kitchen for a shot of something numbing, and when I opened the cabinet to get a glass, there were these wine glasses we’d bought together on a trip we took to Napa. The trip where we got engaged. Six lead-free etched crystal glasses—they were stupid expensive, but we were on vacation and she loved them.” He closed his eyes for a second and dropped his head against the back of the sofa.
“I’m ashamed to admit this, but I took all six down, carried them out to the trash can, and threw them in one by one. Watched each one shatter into like a zillion pieces.” He snorted a laugh. “Eighty bucks apiece, gone. But damn, it was satisfying to hear them break. In some weird way, it helped my heart feel less broken.”
“Do you think she noticed they were gone when she came to get her stuff?” A dumb question maybe, but Harper was curious simply because she would’ve noticed if something like that was missing.
He raised his head and met her gaze. “Oh, she noticed. A few days after she’d been there, I opened that cabinet to get a glass and there was a sticky note. Just said Bastard. And she was right. It was a crappy thing to do.” He blew out a long breath. “So, no, I can’t imagine losing someone the way you lost your husband. But I know what it’s like to have your whole world suddenly turned upside down. To be in love and think you know exactly where your life is headed, only to realize your life’s in the toilet and you don’t know squat.”
Harper wished she knew the right thing to say. Cam’s pain was no less real than hers for being more distant. She nibbled at her lower lip, wanting to find out more, but not sure how much was appropriate. He’d shared so much and listened so sympathetically and openly, were there any taboo questions between them at this point?
Besides, she wanted to know one important thing. “Have you had any serious relationships since?”
Immediately, his eyes lit up and a smile curved his lips. “No.” He moved closer and stroked the back of his hand down her cheek. “I’ve dated—a lot, truthfully, but no, nothing serious or even close.” His expression turned thoughtful, tender. “I want to know you because I think you could be different. For the first time in five years, I’m not backing away, not clutching, not doing any comparing to Scarlett. I’m just enjoying getting to know you.”
His words, his touch sent a quiver through her. Every nerve ending sizzled and buzzed.
He scooted another few inches closer and leaned down. “I’m dying to kiss you, but I promised myself I wouldn’t rush you.”
Harper ached for him to kiss her, a desire more intense than anything she’d felt in months rising in her. What could it hurt? It was only a kiss.
“Rush me,” she whispered. “I could use a little rushing.”
He was so close his breath, sweet and chocolatey, warmed her face. “You sure? A real kiss with no ulterior motive? No heavy thinking about it? And not a kiss between friends, one between—”
She smiled as the clench of loss released in her belly and laughter burbled inside her. She’d forgotten how much fun flirting could be. “Shut up and kiss me, Cameron.”
The first kiss was slow and deep and lazy and the next one sweet and tender. But the third one, after she’d thrust her fingers in to his hair and tugged him closer, turned hungry and ardent. His hands roved over her back, fingers tracing her spine, one hand cupping the back of her neck. Her heart sped up each time his mouth took hers and her breath caught when he moved his lips away to drop warm kisses on her forehead, each eyelid, each cheek. It was the most romantic thing that had ever happened to her.
“Harper,” he murmured as he explored the uber-sensitive spot just below her ear and then traveled down to press intoxicating kisses on her neck, tug aside the V-neck of her sweater to seek the hollow above her collarbone.
She stiffened a little at the touch of his lips there—only Drew’s lips had ever touched her there. She clutched at Cam’s shoulder and he backed away, sliding his hands from her body, but touching her cheek, to stroke a tendril of hair behind her ear. “You’re beautiful—you know that?” he said, his voice husky, sexy.
She closed her eyes. “You think? It’s been a very long time since I’ve looked at myself.”
His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
She straightened, moving away from his big body even though she still sat in the half-circle of his arm. “I-I don’t look in the mirror much anymore.” She stared at his hand resting gently on her knee.
He canted his head. “How do you do your makeup or your hair?”
She shrugged. “By memory, mostly. And I don’t wear much makeup.”
“Is that new since … you know … since Drew passed?”
At one time, she was very conscious of her appearance. Drew loved it when she dressed up, did her makeup, and curled her hair. He’d even thought fake eyelashes were hot, so she applied them every so often, just to see that look of yearning in his eyes. But since Drew’s death, all she saw in the mirror was a tragic, gaunt stranger, so she’d avoided her reflection, pulling her hair up into a messy bun or ponytail and sticking to moisturizer and a little lip gloss. She nodded, but didn’t meet Cam’s eyes.
He rose suddenly and pulled her up after him. “C’mere.” He led her to the wooden coatrack by the door and turned her to face the round mirror that was attached there. Standing behind her, he put his hands on her shoulders. “Look.”
Harper turned her head away. Nothing special to see.
But with one gentle finger against her chin, he set her face forward again and she stared at her reflection. “Look at you, gorgeous. You have the most spectacular eyes—deep green, like a pine forest. Elegant cheekbones, and your skin is soft and perfect.” He put his head down next to hers, his scuff of a beard touching her cheek. “That smile”—she couldn’t help it, her lips curved up—“yeah, that’s the one—damn near knocks my socks off.”
Resting her head against his chest, she stared at their reflections. Cam so blond and handsome, his blue-gray eyes so full of conflicting emotions—tenderness and raw hunger and caution. Herself, darker blonde hair in a messy bun, no makeup, but her eyes sparked. She looked … happy, pretty.
He dropped a kiss somewhere in the vicinity of her ear, then whispered, “If I don’t get out of here right now, you’ll never get rid of me.”
She twisted around in his arms and her impetuous response came straight from her heart, even though her cheeks were flushed with heat and her stomach roiled. “What if I don’t want to get rid of you?”
His eyes widened. As she gazed at him his expression shifted from disbelieving to exultant to frustrated in the matter of a few seconds. Framing her face with his hands, he kissed her full on the lips before grabbing his jacket from the hook behind her and sliding his sock feet into his leather boots sitting on the tile. “You may say that’s what you want, but that deer-caught-in-headlights look in your eyes tells me a whole different story. We’ve got nothin’ but time, Harper.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Enjoy your trees.”
Then he was gone. She stood stock-still, her hand on the doorknob, waiting. But Drew’s voice never came. Only Cameron’s words echoed in her mind—you’re beautiful.