by Dora Hiers
The kicking finally subsided and Camille reluctantly withdrew her hand. “That’s amazing!”
“Yeah. But I’m so ready for the next phase of ‘amazing.’” Chuckling, Katherine gathered some fresh herbs and started chopping. “Tell me about you. Chase told us you live in Italy.”
Leaning over the counter, Camille piped frosting on gingerbread cookies. “For the last ten years. The first few in culinary school, and then I…” She paused and looked up, stared out the window toward the slopes, shrugged. “Then I just stayed.”
What had been the point in coming back to the US? It wasn’t as if Chase had begged her to come home. Not one lousy text or email. And since their divorce, both parents battled over her time stateside. No. Best just to stay in Italy.
The knife stilled and Katherine glanced at her, admiration and joy radiating from the woman’s face. “Wow! Talk about amazing!”
Amazing? Maybe after the initial shock wore off. And before the homesickness set in. “Actually, I’d stack up Steepleview’s peace and innate charm to any city in the world. My family used to come up here occasionally in the summers but definitely every Christmas. I spent every day of my break hanging out at Where Wishes Live.”
“Really? So you knew Chase back then?”
“Yeah.” The one word came out on a sigh. Her lips rounded into an automatic smile. A warm feeling invaded her tummy.
“Ooooh. That sounds juicy. Did you two have a thing for each other?” Katherine gave up all pretense of chopping. She set the knife down, propped her elbows on the counter.
“More on my end than his, I guess.” Camille huffed and got back to work on the cookies. Winced at the crooked line of frosting.
“Back.” The sous chef scurried behind her.
“Front.” A deep voice sounded just above her ear and a hand snatched a cookie off the counter, lightning quick.
“Chase Kirkland!”
The sneaky culprit hustled back to where he came from, unselfishly tossing a morsel to the dog waiting in the hall. At the doorway, he angled over a shoulder. “Oh, just for the record. I wouldn’t put any bets on that,” he said, and flashed that slow, agonizing grin. Then, he was gone.
He’d heard her? Embarrassment swamped her neck and heated her face. She wanted to crawl back in her car and head home. Call off this foolish deal.
She sucked in a breath, but all she took in was his crazy good smell. A sweet blend of mint and lavender, a contradiction of strength and gentleness, but it worked for him. Too well!
“You’ve known him much longer than I have, but I have to say, the boss has never looked quite so happy or relaxed as today.” Katherine picked up the knife again, but stared at the vacant spot left by Chase.
Relaxed? Right now, her nerves were knotted like a pretzel.
Wait a minute! The boss?
“I’d thought maybe him and Ashleigh would work out, but…” Katherine shook her head. Started chopping again, smiling a secret smile. “Now, I know why.”
Ashleigh? A thousand questions screamed for release, but what first?
“The boss?” The two words squeaked from her throat. Worse than water coming from a centuries-old, rusty pipe.
The knife paused. Katherine twisted her head. “Yeah. You know. As in the one who signs our paychecks.”
Shock slacked her jaw, hijacked her limbs. The piping bag plopped on the counter. Chunks of frosting splattered.
The pregnant chef must’ve noticed her surprise. The woman narrowed her brows, set the knife down, and put an arm around Camille’s shoulders. Kindness softened her face. “You didn’t know?”
She shook her head.
“Well, you surely couldn’t tell just by looking at the man.” Katherine scoffed and dropped her arm. She moved back to her task. “He still drives that beater of a truck and he’s more of a friend with all the employees than a boss. But everybody respects him, and most have worked here for years, just like me and Samuel. He’s made some wonderful changes to the place. Like adding more kid-friendly options, better lighting along the runs, bringing it up to the current century, especially technology-wise.” She shook her head. “Grainger still made everybody punch in with that ancient timeclock.” Chuckling, she splayed hands around her belly as if to support the weight from her laughter. “Old codger. It was past time for him to retire.”
“So, how did Chase come to be the owner?”
“Grainger didn’t have any family. Not biological, but Chase was real close to him. After all, Chase started working here at fifteen. He practically doted on the old man, especially as Grainger got older and had some health issues. Anyway, Chase took on more of Grainger’s responsibilities here, even helped him out at home, after hours. At the end, Grainger offered him some type of equity-based buyout, and Chase agreed.”
Imagine that! Chase owned Where Wishes Live! Pride swelled. He’d come a long way from the kid who’d knocked on all the doors in her neighborhood every winter, begging to chop and haul firewood. And emailing or calling folks to scrounge up lawn mowing jobs in the summers. All to save money to pay for his first used truck.
Her daddy had paid Chase to mow their yard and haul firewood. Until he’d found them half naked in the woods behind their house during spring break of her senior year. He’d put a stop to Chase’s employment then and banished her to Europe right after graduation.
She wasn’t the same, but Chase had changed, too. He seemed more settled, more sure of himself. No more chip on his shoulder. But it was more than that. Something profound, soul deep, that tugged at her.
Her daddy should be worried. Real worried.
Chapter 4
Camille sandwiched the books between her hands and slid them into a box, then rewarded herself with another glimpse of Chase.
His back muscles rippled with every swish back and forth on the window and those jeans stretched snug against thick, lumberjack-hearty legs.
Antonio, slender and built like a runner, always wore designer slacks, never jeans. And he would’ve paid for someone to clean the windows, just like her father, rather than get his hands dirty.
She realized she liked jeans. Especially the way they fit Chase. And un-manicured fingers. Fingers that curled around a bottle of window cleaner and not a smart phone most of the time.
Chase sprayed the window then glanced back, caught her staring. Winked.
Busted! She jerked her head back to the bookshelf, shame and confusion drifting over her like the dust motes that landed on her nose. She fanned the space in front of her face, but still sneezed.
“God bless you.”
God? It had been so long since they’d chatted, He’d probably forgotten all about her, but she left that unsaid.
“Thanks.” Another stack of books fit into the remaining space left in the box. “You didn’t tell me you owned Where Wishes Live now.” She tried to keep her tone nonchalant. Failed.
“Not sure it makes any difference, does it?” His arm paused in mid-swipe. He glanced over at her, a questioning expression in his arched eyebrows. His mouth quirked up on both ends, teeth showing.
Was he referring to that last confrontation with her father? The ugly, hateful words her father spewed.
“A difference, how?” she asked.
“You. Your father. I’m still the kid who lives on the other side of the tracks.” He lifted a shoulder and turned back toward the window, whistling a vaguely familiar tune.
“No, you’re not.” He'd snagged her attention back then, much the same as now. His quiet reserve and easy-going attitude, never in a hurry. The way his lips curved in a perpetual smile and the tiny etches around his eyes, as if he always found joy, even in the smallest of things. Like washing windows. Mowing lawns. Lugging firewood indoors. “You never were that kid to me.”
The whistling stopped. A worship song? He stayed facing the window, the rag stuck in one spot.
“Anyway, I’m happy for you.” Happy that he’d finally carved out his niche. That all his hard work as an entrepreneur
teenager paid off in a big way.
And her? She still stood mired in the same mud bog of uncertainty. Like an entire decade had just passed her by. Robbed her of something precious, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint what.
She shoved the last stack in the box and stretched arms over her head, then rubbed her lower back. They’d been at this all afternoon. Enough, already. “Want a soda?”
“Sure. I’m done here. Let me wash up and we can take a break.” He closed the lid on the box and carted it to the garage.
When she heard the water flow from the faucet, she sank down on the sofa and closed her eyes for a moment. Just what she needed. A reprieve from the constant battle going on in her head between Antonio and Chase. Two very different men. Two very different reactions.
And here she’d thought that coming back to Steepleview, filling in at Where Wishes Live, would finally bury those wayward memories.
Ha! If anything, being around Chase again only rekindled the flickering flame.
A can lid snapped then another, jerking her eyelids up. “I didn’t hear you come back in.”
“Keep your seat. I’ll bring them over there, if that’s all right.”
“More than all right. Kick your feet up.” Smiling, she accepted the diet soda from him. “You remembered.”
“Didn’t take much. The fridge was loaded with them.” He chuckled then chugged a good portion of the can, wiped his mouth with his arm. Eyed the sofa. “You sure it’s all right to sit down? I’m sweaty.”
“Isn’t that what you do with a couch? Sit!” She patted the leather cushion next to her.
“Yes, ma’am.” Chuckling, he complied. When their thighs brushed, he guzzled the rest of the can and discreetly slid over to put some distance between them.
That’s good. Maybe then she wouldn’t be distracted by his nearness, his comfortable vibe, the masculine blend of woods and sweat that tugged her like syrup to pancakes.
Yeah, right. She’d have to leave the house not to notice the man.
But, he had changed. The old Chase would’ve scooted closer, not farther away, and his hands would’ve been preoccupied with something more than a soda can.
A drowsy Diesel stood and ambled over to them on wobbly legs. The dog plopped down on Chase’s boot and his soft snores meant he’d already fallen asleep again. Oak and pine logs crackled and sparkled from the oversized fireplace and late afternoon sunbeams pinged off the glass topped coffee table. For the gigantic room, the space could be rather…intimate.
“Oops. Missed this one.” Chase set the empty can down and picked up a photo album, the one she’d kept out to reminisce later. It dropped on his lap and opened in the middle. “Oh, wow.”
She glanced down. Pictures of the two of them at the bottom of the slope, a tangle of skis, arms and legs. A friend had snapped several photos at just the right moment, capturing their laughter and chronicling their last Christmas season together. Was the love that glimmered from Camille’s face as obvious to Chase as her?
“I remember that day.”
So did she. How could she forget? The day she’d given him—
“Camille…” He brushed his knuckles across her cheek. His gaze dipped to her mouth.
“Who’s Ashleigh?”
****
“Ashleigh?” Chase blinked at the abruptness of her question. What just happened there? The apology for stealing something so precious to her on the tip of his tongue, and she jerked away as if he’d slapped her. “How did you find out about—” He raked fingers through his hair and sank back against the leather. Katherine!
His whiskers made a scratchy sound as he rubbed his neck, debating how much to tell her. “Water under a bridge, sweetheart. We broke up a month ago. End of story.”
“Sooo not the end of story. Katherine said you dated for over a year. What made you break up?” Camille readjusted so that her back rested against the arm of the couch and dangled an arm to stroke the pup’s head. Diesel woke and leaned into her hand.
Ashleigh wasn’t Camille? No, Camille wasn’t ready to hear that, yet.
He sighed, kept a tight rein on hands that literally itched to grab her ankles and drape them over his lap. “She complained about my crazy work hours, even though I’d warned her from the beginning.” He glanced down at the heavy-eyed canine. “And when this poor little dude showed up on my doorstep, pumped full of BB gun holes—”
Her hand shot to cover her mouth. “Oh, no!”
“—she complained about the time I spent at the vet’s. Figured, then, that I was never going to make her happy.”
Understanding and sympathy glowed from Camille’s face.
Snap, he didn’t want her sympathy. He wanted her! But, she was practically engaged to another man. Lord, what are You doing to me?
He bolted off the couch. “Diesel needs a potty break.”
“Oh, okay.” She stood, clutching the album to her chest. Something flickered across her pretty face—disappointment? disbelief?—but she hid it by glancing down at the drowsy dog, lumbering to his feet.
“He’s still working on this potty training business. Can’t always hold it.”
Of course, she saw right through his flimsy excuse. But he needed to catch his breath, to chill the heat raging through his limbs.
“Come, Diesel.” He stalked to the front door, feeling like a caged lion, and grabbed the dog’s leash and toy.
What about this plan had sounded like a good idea? As if working with her at Where Wishes Live wasn’t torture enough, he’d offered to bump elbows with her in this mansion.
He surely would have kissed her after that apology, what with those smooth cheeks, speckled with a hint of dust, and those blue eyes all shimmery and soft. Not a brilliant course of action considering she was practically engaged. Good thing she'd broken the spell by asking about Ashleigh.
Apparently, they'd both changed. He wasn't the guy he was back then, and she needed time to process, time to figure out what she wanted out of life, who she wanted.
God, I don’t know why she’s here or what she wants from me, what You want from me. But, I ask that You reign over all the confusion, help her find her way back to You.
Fingers curled around the doorknob, he hesitated, looked back.
Hugging her chest, a single tear tracked down Camille’s cheek. She turned her head, palmed it away. Sniffled.
He closed his eyes at the pain that ripped his heart. God, I can’t do this!
You can’t, Son, but I can.
Peace rippled through his body. Like a river, trickling gently over rocks.
He snapped Diesel’s leash on, but left the dog waiting by the door. He walked back over to the woman who’d always suffered in silence and nudged her chin around to face him. “Hey, now. Enough of that. You have a month to figure things out. And I know just the trick to help clear things up in your head.” And, hopefully, her heart.
She flashed him a look ripe with hope.
He grinned. “A mean night tubing session. What do you say? For old time’s sake?”
Her face softened with a smile, somewhat quivery, but still, success. “Sounds great. Count me in.”
Chapter 5
Wind kissed Camille’s cheeks as her tube picked up speed. Shrieks and laughter, snowboards and tubes slicking against the snow, sliced through the night air. Flood lights illuminated the entire area, a giant, magical play yard.
Chase reached the bottom and hopped up from his rubber doughnut in one, easy athletic move, then scanned the crowded slope. Looking for her?
Her pulse ratcheted, and heat warmed her neck and face. Good thing she could blame the blush on the frigid temperature. She waved then leaned back to stare up at the myriad of stars during the short trip to the bottom. Oh, how she’d missed this!
Her tube rammed Chase’s legs and stopped. He held out a hand. “You lost your touch, cupcake. You used to beat me.”
Chuckling at his pet nickname for her, she accepted his help then grabbed the handl
e and started toward the lift for another go, so not ready to call it a night yet. Especially since the crowd was thinning. “Hey, give me a break. I was enjoying the scenery.” More him than the starry sky, but she wouldn’t admit that. Could hardly admit it to herself, yet. “You were right, you know.”
His eyebrows disappeared into his beanie as he relieved her of the tube. “I’d be lying if I said that was a rare occurrence.”
“And you said that with such a straight face.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “So you’re still as humble and modest as ever. Good to know.”
He laughed, the sound thrilling her heart and warming her bones more than any fireplace. “About what this time?”
“This was the perfect medicine to clear my head. Thank you, Doctor Chase. You can write me a prescription anytime.”
His features clouded and he looked away, off toward the distant mountains. His voice came out gravelly. “I’ll remind you of that when your month is up and you’re ready to leave.”
Leave? Dread swamped her. She wasn’t ready for that, either. But she was down to just three weeks. She dragged off her mittens and stuffed them in her coat pocket, her mood suddenly dampened.
They reached the top of the slope again and Chase plopped both tubes on the snow. Grinning, he hurled himself on top of his and yelled, “Last one down has to cook the other one dinner tomorrow.”
“Wait! That’s not fair. You got a head start,” she whined.
“I’ll take steak.” He laughed, already moving.
She dived onto her vehicle, belly first. His weight gave him a definite advantage, but determination was on her side. And she wasn’t beyond cheating. Not when it came to beating Chase Kirkland.
Was she cheating? Panic stabbed, and shame blinded her. She blinked.
Chase was her oldest and dearest friend. So, yeah, maybe in the past they’d allowed their relationship to skate over the friend line, but they weren’t acting inappropriately now, right? Just a friendly competition. Besides, hadn’t she been upfront with Antonio after his proposal? Wasn’t this the real reason she’d come home? To figure out who she was, what she wanted, and how she envisioned her future. Could she become Mrs. Gimondi and live in Italy for the rest of her life?
