Fall Fireside

by Liz Isaacson

  “What kind of things?”

  “Uh, all kinds of things,” he said. “But mostly antiques. Anything from the war eras fascinates me. Anything old that we don’t use anymore that used to be so important. And Christmas stuff. Well, not just stuff. Santa Clauses and nativities.” He shifted on the steps, and Cami sensed his discomfort. But he was talking to her about real things, and that was more than a lot of the other men she’d dated had done.

  “What’s in your collection that’s old that we don’t use anymore?”

  “Radios,” he said. “I mean, if I want to listen to music now, I use my phone and a Bluetooth speaker. But only sixty or seventy years ago, people had radios in their homes. It was how they stayed connected to the world.” His voice took on a new quality as he spoke, and Cami appreciated that he had more to him than a cowboy hat and a pair of sexy boots.

  She liked those things too, but it was nice to know the man had depth too.

  “What else?”

  “I have an old water bag I found at a flea market in Jackson Hole,” he said. “They used to wet them down and fill them with water and put them on the front of their cars. That way, if the car overheated, they’d have water to put in the radiator.”

  Cami had never heard of such a thing. “I want to see your collection.”

  “Uh….” Clay started laughing. “We’ll have to save that for another time. The timer’s going off on our dinner.” He stood up, brushed off his jeans, and extended his hand to her. She put hers right back in his and let him pull her up, though she could’ve stood on her own.

  Their eyes met, and electricity zipped through his expression and into her body, making her cells sing. In the kitchen, he expertly removed their pizzas from the oven and set them on the stovetop, just the way Betsy did.

  “Let’s see,” he said, turning to the fridge. “I bought a salad too.” He opened a bag of salad and poured it into a bowl. Cami liked that he was somewhat proficient in the kitchen, and she simply sat at the bar and watched him. He got down plates and put forks on the counter. “Okay. We’re ready.” He looked at her again, and she could get lost in eyes like that. “Do you mind if I say grace?”

  She folded her arms. “Not at all.” She closed her eyes as he began. She wasn’t entirely sure what he said, because his voice was like a river of chocolate. Warm, and melty, and oh-so-tantalizing. But when he said, “Amen,” she did too, and then he served her the pizza she’d made for herself.

  “All right, Miss Cami,” he said, sitting beside her and pulling the bowl of salad over to them. “I’ve told you all kinds of stuff about me. Tell me something about you I don’t know.”

  “I’m an open book,” she said. “You already know heaps of stuff about me.”

  “That’s not true,” he said. “I barely know you at all.”

  “Jessie doesn’t tell you things?”

  A frown marred that beautiful face. “Why would Jessie and I talk about you?” He looked at her, the salad tongs poised above the bowl.

  Cami shrugged, feeling a bit foolish. “I don’t know.”

  “Tell me about your family.”

  “You know my family,” she said.

  “Sort of,” he said. “What about all your cousins?”

  “You must go out of your mind when we have parties here at the ranch.” A light came on in her mind. “Do you?”

  “It’s a lot of people to handle,” he admitted. “But I kind of like it. Your family shows me that not all families are like mine. That maybe I could have a family that wants me around someday.”

  The air went right out of Cami’s lungs. “Clay. I’m—I didn’t know.” She also didn’t know what to say to make the pinch around his eyes disappear.

  He smiled, and that did it, though Cami was well-versed in smiling through the pain. “It’s okay, Cami. Really.” He finished putting the salad on his plate and lifted a slice of pizza to his lips.

  Cami watched him take a bite, her stomach filling with fire. She couldn’t seem to do more than breathe and blink, and Clay’s face turned into a question.

  “You aren’t going to eat?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes.” She tore her gaze from his mouth and picked up her own pizza. “We better hurry up. The fireside starts in an hour, and we have quite the drive to get there.”

  Cami stood with the rest of the crowd that had come out for the Sunday evening fireside. The night had grown chilly in the past hour, and Pastor Dahl had opted to give his message outside in the amphitheater.

  She shivered, and Clay glanced at her. “Cold?”

  “Yeah.”

  The music began just as Clay slipped his arm around her and pulled her closer to him. Cami felt the weight of every eye in the county, but when she covertly scanned the people around her, she couldn’t find anyone looking at her.

  So maybe she just felt a bit self-conscious standing so close to Clay, within eyeshot of so many people. She barely sang the closing hymn, though Clay sang out in a beautiful bass voice. She could listen to him sing all night long, and she stopped vocalizing near the end of the song.

  Everyone sat, and Cami closed her eyes for the closing prayer. They’d barely said amen before Clay slipped his hand into her and leaned toward her. “Dessert?”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “I just suddenly wanted some ice cream.”

  “The best shop for that is closed on Sundays,” Cami said, an idea percolating in her mind. She faced Clay, their gazes locking. “But my mother makes an amazing banana ice cream, and we have some leftovers at the homestead.”

  Clay’s eyebrows rose. “What goes on at the homestead in the evenings?”

  “Nothing.” Cami giggled and pushed a palm against his chest. “You make it sound like we’re doing something scandalous over there.”

  “It’s quiet on Sundays, I know that,” he said.

  “Yeah, because we’re all napping. Oooh, alert the authorities.”

  He laughed, and Cami sure did like that she’d been the one to make him do it. She stood up, keeping her hand in his. “Come on. We have homemade hot fudge and caramel sauce too, courtesy of Granny. We can have a private banana split party.”

  Clay came with her, and Cami felt like she was walking on clouds as they moved back to his truck. Once he’d helped her into the front seat, she hurried to pull out her phone and text Betsy.

  I want the kitchen and living room for me and Clay. Doable?

  Her sister didn’t answer right away, and Clay got behind the wheel. “Ready?”

  “Ready,” she said, shoving her phone under her thigh. Now all she had to do was pray that her sisters would find somewhere else to be so she could be alone with Clay.

  Chapter 6

  Clay walked a couple of steps behind Cami as she climbed the steps to the homestead. It was clear they would not be having a private banana split party, if the light and laughter spilling from the homestead was any indication.

  He didn’t mind, but Cami didn’t seem too happy when she turned back when she reached the front door. “Sorry,” she said. “We might have to fight for the ice cream.”

  “It’s fine,” he said. He didn’t even care if there was any ice cream. Spending time with Cami was more of the treat he’d wanted.

  “Are you ready for the crazy?” she asked, pressing her back into the door. “Betsy said everyone is playing charades, and let’s just say my family isn’t quiet.” A roar from inside accompanied the last word, and Clay grinned at her.

  “I know what your family is like,” he said, wondering why she looked so apprehensive. “Cami, I’m fine around people.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you?” he asked. Because he didn’t need her treating him like an invalid. He hated telling people about his parents, because once they knew he was an orphan, they treated him differently. The only people who hadn’t were Rhodes, Flynn, and Jessie.

  “Yes,” Cami said.

  “I play poker with people
,” he said. “Your sister.”

  “I know.” She turned and opened the door, a literal wall of noise hitting Clay in the face.

  Here we go, he told himself as he followed Cami inside. His breath vibrated in his chest, because everyone in the house was engaged. All four of Cami’s siblings were there, with their significant others. And he was on his first date.

  “Cami’s here,” Betsy said, coming over to greet them both. “Heya, Clay.”

  “Betsy. Is Jessie winning everything?”

  “Surprisingly, no. I think some of Flynn’s bad luck is rubbing off on her.”

  “I heard that,” Flynn said darkly as he passed behind Betsy, his hands full of ice cream-soiled bowls. “And it’s not true. We’re up by six points.”

  Betsy rolled her eyes. “So maybe they’re winning. Come on. Rhodes went to grab some more ice cream from Mom’s freezer.”

  “Is there any of that banana left?”

  “No,” Jessie said, stepping over to hug Cami. Clay stood there, feeling a little out of place, though he knew these people. “Logan made short work of that. But Rhodes said he saw some strawberry the other day.” She glanced at Clay. “Hey, Clay. How was the fireside?”

  Jessie had always been good at including him in the conversation, and he smiled at her. “It was nice. We got to sit outside and everything.”

  “Granny would’ve been mad,” Cami said. “I’m glad she didn’t come.”

  “She said her work was done.” Jessie grinned at Cami. “I’m going to go get out the graham crackers and chocolate.”

  Cami faded back to Clay’s side, which sent a blip of happiness through him. “She dips the graham crackers in chocolate and then uses them like a spoon for the ice cream.”

  “Sounds amazing,” Clay said.

  The back door opened, and Rhodes entered with a huge bucket of ice cream. “Tons of strawberry,” he said, and everyone moved into the kitchen.

  Clay immediately felt uncomfortable. Maybe it was the addition of his boss. Or the way Cami tugged on his hand to get him to come with her, as if he belonged there. Nerves moved through him, and he smiled at Knox. The farrier had come to poker night a few times, and Clay had worked with him a lot with the horses.

  “Hey, Clay,” Rhodes said, sliding his eyes down to where Cami’s hand was linked with Clay’s. “How was the fireside?” He extended his hand for Clay to shake, which he did. In the next moment, Capri, Rhodes’s fiancée, stepped to his side and wrapped her arms around Rhodes.

  “We should’ve gone,” she said.

  “There’s another one tomorrow,” Rhodes said, “Right?” He looked back and forth between Cami and Clay, his eyes full of questions.

  “Right,” Clay said. “And it was a good message tonight. Pastor Dahl talked about not comparing your journey to anyone else’s.” He looked at Cami. “I really liked it.” He needed a reminder sometimes that life was good—no matter what road he’d been on to get where he was.

  “I didn’t listen as closely as Clay, obviously,” Cami said.

  “I bet not,” Rhodes said dryly. Clay wasn’t sure what had just been said silently, but Cami giggled and swatted her brother’s shoulder.

  “Don’t embarrass me.”

  “Hot fudge is ready,” Betsy announced, and Clay turned toward her. She’d also chopped bananas, and Georgia opened the fridge and put a couple of cans of whipped cream on the counter. Canned whipped cream—Clay’s favorite.

  “I love that stuff,” he told Cami, who grinned at him.

  “You know you can make it, right? And it’s so much better.”

  “Why is Betsy letting us eat that then?” Clay lifted his eyebrows, a smile touching his lips.

  “We’re in a pinch,” Cami said.

  “Yeah, I don’t think so.” Clay took a couple of steps over to the counter as Logan reached for a bowl. The activity of putting together an ice cream sundae started, and with ten people in the kitchen, the spirit of family and friendship blazed into the atmosphere. Clay laughed with his friends, and marveled that he could enjoy being with so many people.

  The Fourth of July celebrations, Harvest feast, and other big events at the ranch usually brought out some of his worst anxiety.

  But with just Cami and her siblings, along with those they loved, Clay felt…comfortable. Like he belonged.

  And it was the best feeling in the world.

  The next morning, Clay woke with a smile on his face. He stayed in bed while Trooper shifted, sifting through his memories from the day before.

  “Cami.” He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He always had a six a.m. alarm set, but it hadn’t gone off yet. The morning was still quite dark, since autumn had arrived, and he stretched his arms above his head.

  Stretching was something he paid close attention to, especially after his accident. He had a series of things he did each day. Stretch, self, spirit, significant others, space, safety.

  At the end of the day, he evaluated the day to make sure he was taking care of himself, as well as the other things the Lord had entrusted him with.

  He almost always counted animals as his significant others, but sometimes he did an act of service for another cowboy or cowgirl on the ranch. He stretched. He did something for himself every day—and he usually counted a dessert in the evening as that item. He took care of his space—doing dishes, running a load of laundry, pushing the vacuum cleaner back and forth—and he did something to feed his spirit each day.

  The fall firesides had been his answer to his spirit requirement the past few days, and he couldn’t wait until the sermon that evening.

  Because he was once again attending with Cami. Not only that, but he’d asked her if she’d like to get dinner in town before the service. She’d ducked her head and said yes, and Clay had left her standing on the front porch.

  After all, he couldn’t kiss her in front of all of her siblings. He grabbed his phone, but with the early hour, she hadn’t texted. He wasn’t going to text her when he’d see her later, so he got in the shower, made coffee, and got over to the ranch to begin his chores.

  Rhodes had Monday morning meetings with his supervisors, and Clay had overseen several parts of the ranch over the years. At the moment, he headed up the agricultural operations on the ranch, and Rhodes had asked him to start thinking about taking on a new title—foreman.

  “You’re the foreman,” Clay has said.

  “No,” Rhodes said. “I’m the owner.” He’d frowned when he’d said it, and no titles had been formally announced to the cowboys. But Clay was glad Rhodes trusted him enough to think he could run the whole ranch, all the cowboys, and everything.

  Not that Rhodes was going anywhere. Clay knew that. He was still grateful and glad he was valuable to Quinn Valley Ranch.

  He worked through the horses he was assigned to tend to that morning, and the moment he entered the homestead, he knew something was afoot.

  Number one, the scent of maple syrup hung in the air, and Betsy rarely made breakfast. Number two, Cami came out of the office where Clay normally met with Rhodes. Her face burst into a grin, and she asked, “Are you ready for this?”

  “Ready for what?”

  “Rhodes didn’t talk to you?” She approached him, easily slipping both of her hands into his.

  “No.” He gazed down at her, trying to pinpoint what it was about her that spoke so clearly to his soul. “What’s going on?”

  “He wants a completely new irrigation system.” She released him and stepped over to the kitchen. “Betsy made breakfast, and there’s leftovers if you want some.”

  “Is Rhodes here?”

  “Yeah,” she said, picking up a plate and putting a slice of bacon on it. Clay warred with himself. The beautiful woman—with bacon—or talking to his boss about what “a completely new irrigation system” meant.

  Before he could decide, Rhodes came out of the office. “Morning,” he said, no smile in sight. “Cami, is this number right?” He held a table
t and to Clay’s great surprise, he held it away from his face. “I think I might need glasses.”

  “That’s because you’re an old man now,” Wyatt said, coming into the kitchen from the mud room. Clay grinned at Wyatt’s comment, because watching Rhodes try to look at the screen of the tablet was pretty funny.

  “It’s right,” Cami said.

  “We can totally afford this then,” Rhodes said.

  “We can,” she said. “Doesn’t mean you can go crazy, Rhodes.”

  “When have I ever gone crazy?” he asked, and Clay decided waiting in the office for the meeting to start would be safer. Rhodes had just redone the landscaping at the homestead that summer, and things had gotten a little crazy.

  That wasn’t his fault, Clay supposed, but that of a certain bull that had gotten out and caused mayhem on the new yard. But Rhodes did like his toys, and Wyatt said, “You bought four new ATVs just last week,” as Clay went into the office, baconless.

  “We needed those,” Rhodes said.

  Cami laughed, and Clay smiled to himself. She came into the office a few seconds later and extended the plate with French toast and bacon on it to him. “Do you want to eat?”

  “Not your food.”

  “I’ve eaten,” she said, and he took the plate as she sat beside him.

  “Thank you,” he said, looking at her.

  That spark came to life, and the other two cowboys talking in the kitchen muted. Cami stretched up and kissed his cheek, and then boot-steps sounded loudly in his ears as her brother entered.

  Clay’s whole face heated, and he kept his eyes down, the brim of his cowboy hat concealing the blush. He picked up a slice of bacon and took a bite while Cami giggled quietly beside him.

  “All right,” Rhodes said, a sigh leaking from his mouth. “Let’s go over this project. Clay, I’m going to need you to run point on this new irrigation system, and you and Cami need to make sure we don’t go over budget.”

  He got to work closely with Cami?

  “No problem,” he said, looking up and wishing his voice wasn’t quite so hoarse. If Rhodes or Wyatt noticed, they didn’t act like it. But Clay didn’t dare look at Cami, for fear that his face would burst into flames again.