by Dora Hiers
Wasn’t that what she was doing right now? And what was so wrong about enjoying good times with her friend? Except, like the last piece of a puzzle, Chase…fit.
You’re doing what you set out to do. Stay the course. Enjoy what little time you have with Chase. You may not get another chance.
Resolved, she dug her hands through the snow like oars. In seconds, she caught up to the showboat and snagged his boot. “Ah ha! Who’s winning now?”
He dangled his foot in the air, lobbed it around, but only halfheartedly. Obviously, he didn’t want to hurt her.
She maintained her grip, actually used it to propel her tube farther ahead, her aim focused on the finish line poles.
“Not so fast, cupcake.” He latched on to the handle of her raft. Their limbs tangled and their tubes circled each other, but hers passed the poles first.
“I won!” Her rear landed on the snow. Out of breath, she raised her arms in victory.
“You cheated.” Laughing, he stretched next to her.
“Not any more than you.”
“Guess we’ll need a rematch.”
“Not tonight. I’m so tired, I may not be able to move from this spot.” She sighed, contentment spreading through her limbs, leaving her as weak as overcooked spaghetti. But…happy.
“Bet you’ll move when the snow blowers kick on.”
She chuckled. “I haven’t had this much fun since…” When? She considered, the years blipping as fast as train cars through her brain, but she came up with…nothing. “Maybe since the last time I was here.”
He repositioned onto his side, elbow in the snow, chin propped by his palm. “Aww, come on. I’m sure Europe is full of fun. What do you do in your spare time?”
“Spare time?” She scoffed. “What’s that?”
“Really, Camille?” He shot her a look of disbelief.
“Yeah, I know. Don’t judge, all right?” It was true. In the beginning, she’d pushed herself to establish her career. But since hooking up with Antonio, she’d just matched his hours to keep from being alone.
“Hey, now. I’m the last person to judge. I’ve made more than my fair share of mistakes.” His boot nudged hers. Their legs touched, but he didn’t move away this time.
His soft look of encouragement prodded her to continue. “Travelling by myself got old. So, I started spending every evening in the kitchen, trying out new recipes just for fun. Actually, that’s probably how I was promoted so fast. But lately, I think I’m burned out and needed a break.” From work. From Antonio, their relationship. Or lack of one?
“What about your boyfriend?” Was it her imagination or did he stumble over the word? “What does he like to do?”
“Antonio doesn’t really have any hobbies. He’s…driven.”
Silence condemned her, compelled her to defend the man. “It’s a family business. More on the line, I suppose.”
Chase’s eyebrows arched and he cocked his head, but didn’t say anything. Rather, judging by the clamped jaw, he held back.
It hit her, then. Chase owned Where Wishes Live now. Definitely not a family business, but didn’t he have just as much at stake? Maybe more because he didn’t have family to back him up when times got tough.
She wanted to yank back her words. Longed to reach out and run her palm along Chase’s whiskered jaw, yearned to smooth away the pair of worry lines that etched deep furrows between his eyebrows. And her racing pulse yammered that kissing him might be a good idea.
Being back in Steepleview felt so right, so perfect. Or was it being with him?
“Well, we'll make sure you have fun and won't want to leave.” Chase’s words, his smile, punched her with despair.
Won’t want to leave? Wasn’t she there already?
This trip was only supposed to be a temporary reprieve from the long hours at work, to cut the ties and sever the memories, the stranglehold that bound her here. Not tighten them.
Granted, she hadn’t purchased her return ticket to Italy, yet. But she had a job, a boyfriend. She shouldn't be enjoying this so much, right?
****
Chase watched indecision flicker across Camille’s face. And pain.
Lord, please grant her peace, banish those demons of uncertainty and doubt. Help her see You clearly. Help her to realize she belongs here, with me. And forgive me if I’m being selfish.
“Come on. I have a surprise.” He bolted to his feet and reached down to clasp her hand, helped her up.
“Another surprise? I’m not sure I can take any more,” she moaned, but allowed him to lead her to the snowmobile without argument.
The engine roared to life, and she settled in behind him. He waited until she’d tugged on her mittens, then said, “Hang on.”
He took the scenic route to the overlook, the long way, reluctant to stop because then she’d unwrap those arms from around his waist, lift her head from where it rested against his back. Then, he wouldn’t have an excuse to touch her.
When he couldn’t stall any longer, he stopped and cut the engine.
She dismounted and removed her helmet. Her gaze roaming across their surroundings, she moved to the edge of the mountain and swiveled. Starlight reflected from her eyes, and her hands hugged her waist. “How beautiful!”
His breath snagged in his lungs, as if time had waited for this exact moment for him to catch up, for his life to begin again. His legs moved on auto pilot to stand behind her.
She shivered.
“You’re cold. I’m sorry.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, meaning only to warm her. “Want me to get the blanket?”
“Not yet.” She leaned back against his chest. They stood like that for a few minutes, his heart hammering an erratic rhythm, her hair tickling his chin, her sweet fragrance threatening to undo his thin thread of resolve.
When he couldn’t hang on one minute longer, when he didn’t trust himself not to turn her around and kiss her until dawn broke through the darkness, he withdrew his arms. “How about a fire?”
“Sounds perfect! Need help?”
“Nah. You just enjoy the view.” He took one last lingering look at Camille, at the blonde hair that tumbled over her shoulders, the slight curve to her hips, and the sweet smile on her face before she turned back around to gaze out at the lights twinkling up from the town below.
A fire? Really, Kirkland? What were you thinking?
What he really needed was a giant tub filled with ice to douse the heat raging through his body. He bent over, gathering sticks, breaking half of them with his iron grip, and chunks of wood. Crazy, fool idea.
He dumped the armload and stacked the wood, then lit the fire. The all-weather blanket came out next, then the goodies he’d packed.
When she turned around and her hands covered her open mouth—and was that a sniffle?—maybe it wasn’t such a harebrained idea. “Chase!”
“Yes?”
“What have you done?”
“Packed us a snack.”
“No, I mean…” She waved a hand through the air. “…all this.”
“It’s just a snack, cupcake.” And, hopefully, something she’d remember when she left him to return to Italy.
This time he was sure he heard a sniffle. Uh oh.
“Come.” He sank down on the thermal pad and patted the blanket. “Sit down.”
Panic flashed across her features.
“I don’t bite.” Shame that his former actions caused that reaction in her stabbed, but he renounced the devil’s zinger. God had forgiven him, wiped the slate clean. He had no reason for shame. “I promise to behave.”
“I trust you.” She blew out a breath and sank down next to him, dipped her head. When she looked back up, she tilted her head, raked some stray strands of hair away from her face, revealing her expression. Vulnerable. Exposed. Raw. “No one has ever done this for me before.”
He really wanted to punch her boyfriend. “That Antonio really needs to get his act together.”
She chuckled and
picked up a cookie, nibbled on the edge. Surprise lit her face as she chewed. Awe laced her voice. “My favorite. You remembered?”
“You’re the only person I know who prefers chocolate chips over raisins in oatmeal cookies. Hard to forget.” Like her. He popped a small wedge of cheese in his mouth. To chase the melancholy that swamped him over her brief stay, shorter every hour. How much time did he have left?
She swallowed. “Maybe. But I think you’re making light of something significant.”
Was she on to him? That her leaving devastated him? That, for a couple years, he’d floundered, every day a struggle just to get out of bed. A battle to keep from picking up his phone to text or email. How would his heart ever survive her leaving this time?
Chapter 6
“Congratulations, Samuel!” Camille smiled and walked over to the only window in the resort’s kitchen, the phone nestled against her ear.
Her first day without Katherine, and she’d come in early. Really just an excuse to spend more time with Chase. Besides, what was the point in staying in bed? Not as if she could’ve gone back to sleep. Not with the image of Chase, sitting on the blanket next to his basket of treats, his expression a blend of hope and pleading. His extended arm, an invitation to step into their future. Could she risk her heart again?
“Give Katherine my best and hug the little one for me. I’ll pop by the hospital in the morning before work. It’ll be too late tonight to visit.”
“Thanks, I will. But there’s no need, Camille. The doc mentioned that there’s a good chance I’ll be able to bring my girls home this afternoon.”
“Wow, that’s fast! Okay, then. And congratulations again, Samuel.”
“Thanks. Oh, and Camille? Would you mind passing the good news along to Chase? My phone call went straight to voicemail, but I didn’t leave a message. I’d rather him hear the news in person.”
“Uh, sure.” If she could untangle Chase from the woman who’d holed up in his office for the last hour. Camille stared out the window.
So much for getting in to work early and seeing Chase. Nooo, she’d seen Chase all right. Caught the shocked look on his face when that woman scooted her chair close enough for their thighs to touch behind the desk.
Camille had scurried back to the kitchen, buried her hands in flour and her head in a new recipe, mixing up tonight’s featured dessert.
She should’ve stayed home. Could’ve packed at least three more boxes. Maybe then her heart wouldn’t ache, her brain wouldn’t be firing off missiles of doubt every sixty seconds.
Ah ha! The man stepped into view on the back porch, the female clinging to his side like frosting to cake. Finally!
A tight skirt hugged curvy hips, and a low-cut, flimsy blouse broadcasted her goods as the woman leaned in to listen to Chase. Wobbling on three-inch heels, her hand wrapped possessively around the dense man’s arm. Had he no clue to the wiles of certain women? And this particular one aimed her love arrows straight at Chase.
Well, what woman wouldn’t? Kind. Hardworking. Faithful. The fact that he was jaw-dropping gorgeous didn’t help matters.
A jealous pang stabbed Camille. Who was this woman? Was this Ashleigh?
Chase had kept the door open the entire time—she knew because she’d scrounged up about five different excuses to creep past his office—but they’d huddled over his desk, studying jumbo-sized papers, their voices too low to intercept.
Shameless, she stared at the pair. Would Chase kiss the woman goodbye?
He moved out of the woman’s clutch, and Camille slumped to the counter, relief gushing through her limbs. Her sigh rattled through the quiet kitchen.
With his profile to her, he watched the puppy sniff the snow to find a spot to relieve himself, smiled when Diesel hopped and danced, kicking up the white fluff. Hands jammed in the pockets of his khakis, he angled around, caught her open-mouthed gawk. His face mellowed, and his mouth curved. Tenderness radiated from his face, and something else. Love?
No. Couldn’t be. She’d have known back then, wouldn’t she? And now?
He shook hands, smiled at the woman, but it wasn’t the same expression he reserved just for her. Had that glint always been there? How had she missed it?
And, even more terrifying, what was she going to do about it?
“Oh, almost forgot.” The voice startled her.
She fumbled with the phone, almost dropped it in the soapy sink, but managed to snag and sandwich it between shoulder and cheek.
“…said to be sure to relay her thanks for filling in. You can’t imagine the pressure that took off. Thanks so much, Camille. Gotta go. The nurse just came in with the baby.”
The phone went silent, but she made no move to drag it away from her ear.
The woman stalked toward the parking lot, her hips practically bursting the seams of that tight skirt as she swayed. But Chase paid no mind. He faced the window, winked at Camille, then called to Diesel and headed in the opposite direction, his stride confident, shoulders wide and strong.
Camille sagged against the sink, her heart hammering, legs trembling. The man truly did not know the effect he had on women, her especially.
Oh, Lord, it’s been ages since we chatted. Forgive my wandering. Help me make the right choices here. Don’t let me hurt him, please.
****
Camille chunked the keys and her purse on the counter and slipped out of her shoes. She padded through the kitchen in stockinged feet, stuck her head in the fridge and massaged the back of her neck.
Oh, that felt good.
All day with Chase, those feelings, those confirmations growing stronger every time he wandered into the kitchen for a cup of coffee, a cookie or just to chat. She needed something to cool her skin, some peace from the constant barrage of questions racing through her brain.
Her phone vibrated with an incoming call. She snatched it off the counter, nudged the fridge door closed with her knee. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, yourself, pumpkin. How’s it going?”
She sighed.
“The house that bad, huh? I paid that boy—”
Boy? She scoffed. Chase was so not that boy. “No, Dad. Not the house.” Just my heart.
“What, then? You homesick for Antonio? Ready to get back to Italy?”
Weird, but her father’s tone sounded almost…taunting. “Actually, no.”
Silence on the other end.
“The chef for Where Wishes Lives just had a baby. I’m filling in for her.”
“Oh, you should’ve said something, pumpkin. You’re too busy to handle the packing and moving details. Don’t worry, I’ll arrange for a company—”
“No, Daddy. I can handle it. And Chase is helping. We’ve already packed a ton of boxes, cleaned the windows, and took everything off the walls for the painters. Since it’s supposed to be warmer and sunny tomorrow, we’re tackling some of the outside tasks.”
“That boy is helping you? There’s no need for that. I can get a company—”
“Daddy, he’s not that boy. His name is Chase, Chase Kirkland.” The man I love. The man I never stopped loving.
That’s why she hadn’t been able to commit to Antonio, to a life in Italy. Not when her heart still resided here, Where Wishes Live. “Remember?”
“Oh, I remember. I remember catching the two of you all tangled up in the garden.”
She smiled at his fatherly tone. “Dad, we’re not seventeen anymore, and the only tangling I plan to do in the garden with him deals with removing some of those outdated bushes. Did you know he bought Where Wishes Live?”
Her father grunted an acknowledgment, then, “The boy’s got foresight and grit, that’s for sure. He’s come a long ways from the kid who mowed our yard every summer, but I could even see it back then.” Grudging admiration came through the phone, loud and clear. Had he changed his opinion of Chase?
“I’m considering staying. In Steepleview.”
“What about Antonio? Your job?” Was that a smile she he
ard in his voice? He almost sounded…smug. As if he’d planned this whole scenario.
She narrowed her eyes. Had he? He’d tossed out the offer to stay in the Steepleview house to prep it for sale quite rapidly, now that she thought about it. But he’d been toying with that idea for years, so it hadn’t struck as odd at the time. Now, though…
“I don’t love Antonio, Dad. I haven’t quite figured out the job part, yet.” But she would.
“Well, you know I’ll support you in whatever you decide, pumpkin. But you have an established career and an international reputation at stake. Don’t go making any rash decisions.”
Rash? Ten years couldn’t be considered rash, could it?
Chapter 7
Chase mashed the shovel with his boot, wincing at the force it took to pull the aged plants out of the frozen tundra. The physical exertion was good for him, though. Burned off his frustration. He heaved the decades-old shrub into the wheelbarrow, glared at the shiny new For Sale sign lurking in the front yard.
Discouraged, he wheeled the barrow toward the back of the house to work. Away from the reminder.
This was Camille’s house, her family’s at least. Always would be in his head. But the sign meant she was one step closer to leaving for Europe. One step closer to forever being lost to him.
Lord, I don’t know Your plan, and it’s killing me. I’m trying so hard to trust. Forgive my unbelief. You’re still in the business of miracles. I know that, and a miracle is what’ll take to get Camille to stay. To choose me this time.
“I must be a glutton for punishment, buddy,” he said to the pup, lazing in a sunny spot in the snow-speckled yard. The dog lifted a sleepy head as footsteps crunched behind Chase.
He turned.
Sunbeams framed Camille, golden rays pinging off her wavy blonde hair. Blue eyes sparkled. Dimples, deep in smooth cheeks, highlighted her beautiful smile. Her hand stretched out, inviting him closer.
