Looking at Grant now, Camden felt entirely naive to have once thought that the two of them had, at least, a deep enough friendship to build something solid. But friends didn’t have secret sex meet-ups in closets behind the backs of other friends.
Or maybe they did and it was one more part of life in the twenty-first century that she’d missed out on while she’d been the playing the role of pageant queen.
“We can still get married, sweetheart.” Grant reached for her hand, and she felt nothing at his touch. Not familiarity, not a spark of heat. Not the kind of sizzle that seemed to encompass her body every time Levi Walters was within a thousand-yard radius. “We can make this work. I don’t have to sleep with Heather,” he said, and for the first time, his voice lost the placating edge. “And you don’t belong here. What are you going to do? Wear faded jeans and those silly rain boots for the rest of your life? Drive for hours on end to get to a good restaurant? Order designer shoes online because the nearest store is three hundred miles away? You can’t be happy here, Camden. This place isn’t you.”
He’d summed up the woman she’d been pretending to be in two sentences: a woman concerned with nothing more than a great pair of shoes and the right place to have lunch. God, how had she allowed herself to become so shallow? Camden rocked back on her heels, the comfortable boots squeaking against the tile floor. This pair had just been delivered and featured neon-tinted magnolia blossoms. What kind of woman needed seven different pairs of rain boots? Most got by with one. Some with none.
“I may have a slight shoe problem, but that doesn’t mean I belong in Kansas City, waiting for you to get done visiting whatever closet you’ve hidden Heather in. You don’t want to be with me, Grant. If you did, you wouldn’t have gone after a quickie within a couple of hours of when we were supposed to be saying our I dos.” He opened his mouth to object, but Camden kept talking. “And I do belong here. I’ve always loved it here.”
“You’ve never once talked about Slippery Rock, not in all the years we’ve known one another.”
“You never once talked to me about Heather, but that obviously didn’t put out the torch you’ve been carrying for her.”
Grant narrowed his eyes.
“I’m not the person you thought I was. Or maybe I’m just realizing that the person I was isn’t who I want to be any longer. I don’t want to do the Junior League circuit for the rest of my life, and I don’t want to coach pageant girls, and I don’t want to marry you. I’m sorry, but I don’t.”
“But I drove five hours to come and get you.”
Camden ignored him. “These boots I’m wearing?” She pointed to the magnolia-splattered rubber. “These boots let me walk through underbrush and a little stream that’s only a few inches deep. They keep my feet dry and warm and I wear them when I’m training my dog—”
His blue eyes widened. “You’re training dogs?”
“With my grandfather, yes. And maybe the boots are a little silly, and probably I don’t need all seven pairs that I ordered, but they’re fun. They represent the person that I’m trying hard to become.”
“You want to be a woman who wears faded jeans and flannel and ridiculous rubber boots?”
“All the best jeans are faded these days. Some are even ripped before you buy them. It’s wonderful.” A smile spread across Camden’s face. “I do want to be here. And I want to work with my grandfather. I want to make up for all the time I missed with both my grandparents. I want to do something that has meaning.”
“I’m not sure training dogs is meaningful.”
Camden shrugged. That, right there, was the crux of the problem between her and Grant. They didn’t actually think the same way about anything. They attended the same functions, were members at the same clubs, but he saw meaning in profit-and-loss statements. She saw meaning in training dogs. In nature. In the small town she wasn’t really a part of. Not yet.
Thom caught her attention and looked pointedly at his watch.
“We should go. Thom’s waiting to lock up.”
When they were outside and Thom had continued down the street toward the Slippery Slope, Camden turned to Grant. His blonde hair nearly glowed under the streetlight. His polished shoes made a clacking sound against the concrete sidewalk, and his camel coat might be perfect in Kansas City or Chicago or New York, but it was out of place in Slippery Rock.
“I’m sorry you wasted the trip, Grant. Move on with your life. Move on with Heather or whoever else you might have hiding in a closet somewhere.”
“You don’t know the kind of mistake you’re making.”
“And you don’t know the kind of mistake we’d be making if I went back with you.”
He put his hands in his pockets and watched her for a long moment.
“Goodbye, Grant.” She turned toward her car, parked next to her grandfather’s old truck. Inside, in the glow from the dash, her grandparents watched her closely. Camden gave them a small wave and walked away from the man she’d been prepared to marry just a week ago. She knocked on the window, and Calvin rolled it down.
“Are you guys thirsty? I could go for a drink.”
“Are you okay, Cam?” Grandmom asked after a long moment. She looked past Camden to where Grant had been. Camden didn’t look back; she didn’t want him to interpret a backward glance the wrong way.
“I’m fine,” she said, and realized that she was. That sangerbelief feeling was gone, replaced by full-on relief. Like she’d been released from something—or someone—that had been weighing her down. “We could go to the Slope. If I remember correctly, Merle serves the coldest beer and the worst onion rings in town.”
“He’s added buffalo wings and burgers, and they leave a lot to be desired, too,” Grandmom said.
“How about dinner and drinks, then?” she suggested.
Her grandparents exchanged a look, and then Granddad nodded. “I could eat.”
The three of them walked down the quiet street. Cars were parked on both sides, but only a few people were out.
“He’s the reason you showed up wearing a wedding dress?” Grandmom asked.
“He’s the reason.” Camden sighed. “He was sleeping with someone I thought was my best friend. I found them, just before the actual wedding.”
“Oh, baby,” Grandmom said, squeezing her hand. Camden returned the squeeze.
“It’s okay. I’ll tell you the whole ridiculous story some time.”
“You sure you don’t just want to go home?” Granddad asked.
“Positive. I’m really okay. I’m not sad or mad or...anything but relieved, actually.”
They passed the now quiet grandstand. The next Christmas concert wasn’t slated until Saturday, and Camden had spent so much time talking to Grant that the hot-cider and roasted-chestnut vendors had packed up for the night. More cars were parked outside the Slope.
Thom Hall exited his car and offered a wave. Her grandfather waved back, and when they got to the door at the same time, Thom held the door open for them and then continued to the table where his wife waited.
The bar was much as she remembered from her first night back in town: the same polished hardwood floor, the same country music on the juke, the same middle-aged waitress delivering drinks. But there were more people. A lot more. Only a few tables were available.
Levi and his friends, most of whom she recognized from her childhood, were in a corner playing darts with women she didn’t recognize. Her tummy did a little flip-flop when her eyes locked with Levi’s. Silly. Didn’t mean anything—just her girlhood crush rearing its ugly head.
She hadn’t walked away from an engagement only to start an even more reckless relationship with a man she barely knew.
“Sit anywhere,” Juanita called to them from across the room. “I’ll be there in a second.”
The three
of them found a table near the bar and sat. Camden grabbed a menu from the stand, but Grandmom took it from her. “You want buffalo wings, garlic parm. They’re the best.”
“Of the worst?”
Grandmom chuckled. “We only really say ‘the worst’ because all his food is deep fried and consists mainly of salt and fat and empty calories. Well, other than the maraschino cherries and mandarin oranges Juanita keeps on hand for some of the drinks. Despite the empty-calorie thing, though, it’s some of the best food in town.”
Juanita made it to their table. “I think everybody in town must’ve come here after that meeting,” she said.
“Looks like,” Granddad said. “We’ll have the garlic parm wings, all around, some onion rings and a few of them mandarin orange slices from the bar.”
“The orange slices are for drinks, Cal,” Juanita said, putting one hand on her rounded hip.
“Then tell Merle I’m inventing something new. Whatever’s on tap, infused with orange slices.”
Juanita grimaced. “I’ll just bring the bowl.”
“I’ll have a white wine spritzer,” Grandmom said, and Camden realized for the first time that they shared the same taste in drinks. It was perhaps an odd thing to make her feel as if she’d come home; regardless, warmth spread through her at the realization.
“Same for me,” she said.
Once Juanita left, Camden sat back in her chair, taking in the room. The neon behind the bar was partially burned out and made only half-hearted occasional blinks. The patrons talked animatedly. Conversations surged about the odds that the Chiefs would make it to the Super Bowl, about plans for the concert Saturday and whether Santa should come to Slippery Rock via pontoon boat at the marina before going to the little gingerbread house the city had built on the grandstand grounds, or whether a sleigh was the better option.
Santa on a boat seemed like a fun idea to Camden, especially since the chances Slippery Rock would see any snow before Christmas were practically zero.
The dart game in the corner drew her attention; the competition seemed intense. She watched Levi and his friends for a long moment. Collin Tyler had the same enthusiastic grin she remembered from her childhood. Aiden and Adam Buchanan, twins who were practically impossible to tell apart, laughed loudly at something James Calhoun, the newly elected sheriff, said. One of the twins—Adam, she thought—had a dog sitting patiently at his feet. Odd. Animals weren’t normally allowed in restaurants or bars. Levi’s sister—Camden couldn’t remember her name—and Collin’s sister, Mara, cheered when Aiden’s dart missed the bull’s-eye by several spaces.
Levi had changed the most, Camden thought, as she really took in those physical differences. He’d always been tall, but the years training as a professional football player had taken all the gangly off him, replacing it with muscles that made her want to touch. He had a tattoo on his upper arm that she didn’t remember. Of course she didn’t remember it. She’d seen him a handful of times before tonight, and each time he’d worn a jacket. Well, except for that moment after their tumble under the lake, but she’d been so entranced by the dark skin covering his muscled, bare chest it was no wonder she hadn’t noticed a shoulder tattoo. His smile was the same, but somehow it seemed more dangerous coming from the twenty-eight-year-old Levi than it had from the fourteen-year-old. His mouth full. Unbidden, the memory of their kiss outside the barn popped into her head.
Nope, not thinking about kissing Levi. Not thinking about Levi at all.
Her grandparents were deep in conversation across the table, so Camden watched the people around them. But none of them were as interesting as the man standing up to throw darts at the wall target.
His head was nearly shaved, and he had a bit of five o’clock shadow. Suddenly, Camden realized she wasn’t just watching Levi. Levi was watching her watching him. She felt trapped in his gaze for a long moment and then forced her attention away from the dart game to the TV behind the bar. A couple of college football teams were pummeling one another.
Camden didn’t know a thing about football, but trying to figure out what was happening on-screen was so much better than getting sucked farther into Levi Watching. She glanced toward the corner of the room. He faced the wall, focused on the dartboard. With a graceful flick, he sent the red-tipped dart in his hand to the center of the board.
A smile spread over Camden’s face. The man had a way with sports, that was certain. Not that she should pay attention to that.
“So, Six is coming along well,” she said, hoping to jolt thoughts of Levi from her mind with plans for the dog school. Her grandparents continued to talk quietly across the table so Camden raised her voice a little. “Are you both still coming to the show in Tulsa with me?”
Their attention swiveled across the able to her. “We made our hotel reservations this morning,” Grandmom said then frowned, and seemed to consider whatever she was about to say carefully. “Honey, what was all that about at the hall earlier? Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Of course I’m sure,” Camden said, without really thinking about it. She was okay. Better today than she’d been yesterday or the day before, or, heck, for longer than she cared to admit. “Grant and I...accepting his proposal was a mistake, and waiting until the day of our wedding to walk away was a mistake.” Her grandmother’s eyes widened. Camden shook her head. “I mean a mistake because I should have done it so much earlier. I just...haven’t been myself for a long time.”
Granddad reached across the table and brushed her hand with his. “But, kiddo, are you sure you want to train dogs? Because if you don’t—”
“Camden, I believe you’re making a mistake,” Grant said, interrupting them—and stopping the conversations at several nearby tables, too. It seemed to Camden as if every eye in the bar—Levi’s included—was suddenly focused on her table. She wanted to sink through the floor.
It had been bad enough to be the focus of attention for the few minutes it took for the hall to empty earlier. At least most of the town didn’t know she’d arrived fresh from her almost wedding, still wearing the dress. At least, she hoped they didn’t.
“Grant, what are you doing here?” She’d told him to leave. Told him to move on with his life. Made it clear she was moving on with hers. But the man standing before her in polished wing tips, pressed khakis and a camel coat was definitely Grant Wadsworth, and he was definitely not a figment of her imagination.
Automatically, her gaze went to the darts area in the opposite corner, but all Camden could see was Grant’s torso in the camel coat.
“I’m here because we had an arrangement—”
“I think you mean engagement,” she corrected and then bit her tongue. It didn’t matter what Grant called it—it was over. And it didn’t matter.
He waved his hand. “You can’t just walk away from me.”
“I can and I did,” she said, keeping her voice low. Granddad started to stand, but Camden motioned him to stay put. She stood and pointed to the door. “We should talk outside.”
He didn’t move. “You should drop whatever this small-town act is that you’ve got going and come home with me.”
“You don’t love me, Grant.”
“What does love have to do with it?” He seemed genuinely confused about that, but Camden was his ex, not his teacher. Explaining the ins and outs of relationships—especially when she wasn’t all that versed on the subject herself—didn’t seem like good use of her time. Or his. And she needed to get him out of here.
“Fine, forget the love angle. You don’t want to marry me. I’m not even sure how I factor into the decision at all. My father is on a partner track at your father’s firm. A strong contract with a strict noncompete clause is what your father and the firm need. I’m not some princess who can be used to unite warring factions in medieval Europe.”
Grant shook his head. “I t
old you I’d stop seeing Heather.”
“Heather isn’t the problem.”
“Then why did you bring her into this at all?”
“Heather isn’t the problem. Heather is what you use to ignore the problem. We liked each other, Grant.” She lowered her voice, hoping that between Keith Urban singing from the juke box and the few muted conversations still going on across the room, their argument would remain mostly private. “We were friends whose mothers set them up on a date, and neither of us could come up with a good reason to let either of our mothers down. That isn’t a reason to get married, though.”
“I still don’t see the problem.”
Camden squeezed her eyebrows together in annoyance. “The problem is that you don’t want to be with me any more than I want to be with you.”
“Then who do you want to be with?” Grant asked, as if she had another man on standby. Which made perfect sense, as he’d had Heather on standby in at least one closet while engaged to Camden. Camden wondered what other places he’d used to hide her. The kitchen pantry? The pool house? The trunk of his car?
Someone moved behind Grant, his shadow nearly engulfing the other man. Crap. Levi. The last person she wanted to hear about her broken engagement or her idiotic past choices. Grant’s question echoed in her mind, along with the image of Levi’s face. And that was just stupid.
Twenty-six-year-old Camden did not want to be with Levi Walters. Twelve-year-old Camden had, but that was a long time ago.
“Well?” Grant asked.
Of course, Grant didn’t know that. And Levi was only a couple of feet away. And the two of them had nearly burned down Granddad’s barn with that kiss a few days before.
Not a good idea, Cam, she told herself. But Grant was watching her expectantly, along with everyone else in the bar.
“Him,” she said, moving to Levi’s side. Camden took his hand in hers as Grant watched them with a shocked expression on his face. “I want to be with him. Grant Wadsworth, this is Levi Walters.”
Christmas in a Small Town Page 10
