Staying For You

by Van Wyk, Jennifer

  As soon as I get to him, he gives me a kiss on the lips and whispers, “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  “I want to take this opportunity to let you know that I was right.”

  “About?”

  “You’re beautiful.” Damn him and his words! He’s making it all too easy to want to stay. “Your blanket, Miss.” He presents my “seat” on the ground like he’s at a five-star restaurant. And adds in a wink that has me warming up regardless of the temperatures outside.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  We take no time digging in. Why would we? It’s freezing and I’m not one to turn away a good PB & J sandwich. I’m far too smart for that. And he was right about the chips. I would eat the entire bag if given the chance to do so.

  My phone rings in my pocket and I reach inside, look at it and press ignore. Gretchen and I talked just last night and I told her I’d be sending her more chapters. She likely just wants to give me her opinion on it.

  “You can answer that.”

  “Nah. It’s just my friend Gretchen.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.” I smile and nod.

  “What does she say about you being up here?”

  “She was all for it. She knew I needed to get away and find some inspiration.”

  He looks out at the water, arm resting on his bent knee as he leans back on his elbow facing me. Owen tears off a chunk of sandwich, chews, and swallows it down. When he looks at me, his eyes are warm. “Have you found it?”

  I nod. “I have. Gretchen said this is my best work yet.”

  “Hmm. Interesting.”

  “It is.” I lean over and kiss his lips. “She thinks it’s because we’re getting it on.”

  “Getting it on? Really?”

  “You know what I mean. She’s aware that we’re having sex and approves.”

  “Oh really?” He raises his eyebrow, smirk firmly in place and my gosh, the man just oozes sexiness. It should be illegal. Probably is in some countries.

  “Mm hmm.”

  We learn what outdoor sex in twenty-degree weather is like. And how it’s one of the only times that a quickie is necessary.

  * * *

  “You know what?” I ask from my place curled into Owen’s side, my arm wrapped around his stomach that’s unfortunately covered by a t-shirt, his feet are up on the coffee table in front of us. A bottle of beer rests on his jean-clad thigh and his arm is draped over my shoulder. We’re watching a movie, hanging out and being complete bums. We’ve been binging on some major junk food, though he used an air fryer to make the hot wings and onion rings so even though it’s technically not fried, it still tastes like it is. And I made monster cookies which we’ve already eaten most of. Which means pretty soon we’ll have to work it off.

  Which neither of us are opposed to.

  “What?”

  “I think what you have here is pretty spectacular,” I tell him quietly.

  “Do ya now?” His voice is full of happy, and that makes me happy. Because I know I’ve had a hand in that. At least, I’d like to think I have.

  “I really do.”

  “Good.” He kisses the side of my head and we cuddle closer, laughing at the ridiculousness of Dumb and Dumber, a classic comedy I’ve seen a hundred times already.

  This morning, Owen opened his laptop and I sat next to him as he scrolled through almost a thousand pictures he’s collected over the years since he’s owned The Escape. Pictures he’s taken himself or his guests have sent him after they left. After having such an amazing time that they booked another trip for the next year. And I can see why. What he has here is pretty spectacular. He’s managed to create a little bit of heaven that I don’t think people realize they want or need until they’ve received it.

  Life moves fast and he’s making families slow down. The game area in the lodge is a favorite area where moms and dads go head to head against their kids, all of them setting aside social media and posting updates in favor of making memories.

  Listening to and watching Owen talk about it stirs up so many emotions in me. Emotions I refuse to investigate the meaning of right now. Instead, I’ll continue to avoid the truth behind them and instead focus on the fun Owen and I are having in our current status of hanging out as friends and having lots of sex. Lots and lots of sex. That part I’m definitely not complaining about.

  “I was thinking of a few upgrades.”

  “Like what?”

  “You know, I love bar-b-que and smoked meat but don’t get it often. Thinking of buying a big smoker and maybe having a bar-b-que night for the guests. What do you think? Would it be dumb?”

  “That sounds amazing.”

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I think it could be fun. Another way for families to come together or swap stories of their time here. I don’t know. Maybe I’m pushing too hard.”

  “No. It’s not like they have to participate. It’s just something you’d offer, right? And hey, if it doesn’t take off, at least you’d have the smoker so you could make your own food.”

  “Kind of the way I was looking at it too. But really, how many times could you smell that amazing smell and walk by without going for it?”

  “You mean from the smoker?”

  “Yeah. What else would I mean?”

  I want to say you, because he smells divine. Like a mixture of the outdoors and woods and spice.

  “I’ve also been thinking about getting one of those projectors so I can show outdoor movies on a big screen. Like they’re at the drive-in. Maybe offer it the same night as the smoked meat. I know that goes against the no technology thing, but it’s not really. These will be family-friendly movies.”

  I sit up and turn so I can look at him. His arm doesn’t drop from my shoulder, just slides over a little so his hand is cupping it. “I was right earlier. What you’re doing here is spectacular.”

  His eyes drift to my mouth then back up to my eyes. “Yeah?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Means a lot. You’d say that. I’m committed to it. Given up a lot of things in life my mom especially would like to see for me.”

  “By things, you mean having your own family.”

  He nods, thumb rubbing on my shoulder. “Yeah.”

  “Your sister having a baby didn’t take some of the pressure off?”

  “You’d think. It just ramped it up though. Mom got a taste of being a grandma and now she wants more.”

  “Ahh. Gotcha. I get it. My mom was that way for years. Then she realized that it wasn’t going to happen so she moved on.”

  “You don’t want kids?”

  “I do. But not with my ex.”

  We’re quiet as we let our words settle between us. The conversation turning a little more serious than typical. Discussing things he wants to do to make The Escape better, and asking my opinion on them. Discussing family and children. None of what we’re talking about is too in depth, but for two people who decided they’d try to keep things surface level, we’re not doing a very good job at it. Everything I learn about him makes me like him more. Every time he touches me makes me ache for more.

  I’m screwed.

  In both the way I want to be and the way I don’t want to be.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Owen

  “Calling Owen Cunningham. Come back Owen Cunningham. Over.”

  I chuckle. I had no idea she’d like those damn walkie talkies as much as she does.

  “Owen here. Over.”

  “Cami here. Wondering if you’re interested in a little benefits action.”

  That’s another thing I’ve been surprised (very pleasantly) about. She has a sexual appetite that’s never satisfied.

  “You didn’t say over.”

  “Sex or not? Over.”

  “When have I ever said no? Over.”

  “Good point. On my way. Over.”

  I’m naked and waiting in bed for her when she comes barrel
ing through the door less than four minutes later. And, bless her, she must have been ripping off her clothes as she came up the stairs because by the time she makes it to me, she’s only in her bra, yoga pants and those cute as hell fuzzy socks she can’t seem to go a day without wearing.

  “So I take it you’re interested in some benefits action?” She whips off her yoga pants and I’m treated with the vision of her without underwear on. Not that it’s the first time I’ve seen her without underwear, but not wearing any to begin with has my heart racing. I try to play it cool, keeping my hands behind my head, elbows bent. The picture of relaxed. I’m anything but. How can I be when she’s standing in front of me, unhooking her bra and removing her socks, baring herself to me completely.

  “C’mere, Cami,” I growl.

  She grins this grin that has my dick growing hard. She’s so beautiful to me. And seeing her transform over these few weeks from timid to confident makes her even more beautiful.

  Her hips sway side to side and her breasts bounce ever so slightly as she makes her way over to me. She’s not moving slowly but I swear my mind shifts into slow motion as I watch her.

  She places her hands on the mattress then presses down a knee followed by the other as she crawls over to me. Her breasts hang between her and I can’t take my eyes off any part of her.

  Her eyes are bright and shining, lashes dark and full and lids shimmery with a bit of eye shadow. Lips glossy and the color of watermelon. She’s… “Beautiful,” I murmur and remove my hands from behind my head and reach out to her.

  She bites her lip as she drags her body over mine. Kissing her way up my body, giving me extra attention to my hardness that’s straining for her. When she takes me into her mouth, my hips jerk up and I feel her smile around me.

  “Fuck, you really know what you’re doing.”

  She amps up her efforts and licks and sucks, using her hand at the base, twisting and squeezing lightly to join in until I’m pounding a fist into the sheets beside my leg. “Get up here, Cami. Now.”

  I grip her under her armpits and haul her over me, flipping us over so I can have some control. We’ve learned that we both like to be on top, but I stand by me liking it a little more. As much fun as it is for her to use me for her pleasure, knowing what I can do to her is even more of a turn on.

  “I wanted top,” she whines half-heartedly, fingers clenching the muscles in my back and digging in.

  “Too bad,” I grunt and give her no warning before I’m inside her. We both moan and I let my forehead rest in her neck. Every time feels like the first time with her and going in bare, with nothing between us, is the absolute best feeling in the world.

  “Move, babe. You gotta move.”

  I listen and start pumping my hips, lips kissing her soft skin before I lean up, look down at her. Hair fanned out on my pillow and eyes hooded, mouth dropped open, panting.

  Her legs are spread wide, knees dropped to the mattress, giving me room and full access to her. She reaches between us and my eyes follow, loving watching her play with herself. How she knows what makes her feel good and isn’t afraid to do it.

  “Love that. Rub yourself. Show me what you like.”

  “Yes.”

  She rubs faster and our breathing gets harsher when I lift her leg and drape it over my shoulder, giving me a better angle to hit that spot I know will set her off.

  And it does.

  Her head thrashes side to side. “Owen!” she cries out and damn it all, I feel the familiar tightening in my balls already. My jaw clenches and I squeeze my ass cheeks so I don’t come yet. I’m not ready for this to be over.

  As soon as she’s through her first orgasm, I start moving faster, harder. The sounds of our skin slapping against each other making it that much harder to hold myself back. My hips thrust and I moan, “Cami.”

  “I know.”

  She knows. That’s all she has to say for me to get her meaning. That what we have together, in bed and out of bed, is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced with another person.

  I lift her hips and I see it coming over her again. “Coming?”

  “Mm hmm.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I want you to come with me, Owen. Come with me.”

  And I do. We do. Our cries and grunts sound through my bedroom and then I’m breathing heavy, back arching, hand squeezing her breast and pinching her nipple.

  “Oh my gosh!” she screams and I feel it overcome her at the same time mine does.

  With one last thrust, I bury myself deep inside her and moan through our orgasms.

  After our breathing regulates, I roll to the side and let her get cleaned up while I do the same. We do our thing then come back together, wrapping ourselves around each other in bed, still naked and smiles still on our faces.

  “I want a burger.”

  “We can manage that.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I picked up some buns the other day when I was in town while you were writing.”

  She rests her chin on my chest and looks at me. “It’s like you just knew.”

  I rub her back and keep looking to the ceiling. “I have onions too, so we can do some caramelized onions with it.”

  “You speak my language.” She gives me a squeeze around my stomach.

  I grin and keep her close, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

  Having her in my bed is addicting.

  “You should get a dog.”

  “What kind?”

  “Obviously a lab. Chocolate one. It’d be perfect for a mascot for The Escape.”

  “Hmm. Not a bad idea.”

  “I’m full of good ideas.”

  I keep rubbing her back. “As evidence by what just happened.”

  She giggles and lays her cheek on my chest. Kisses me there then sighs. Content. Happy. Satisfied.

  “Tell me about what you’re writing right now.”

  “You really want to know?” she asks, quietly. A little bit of that shyness coming back.

  “Of course.”

  She sits up, crosses her legs and doesn’t hesitate to launch in, telling me about the story she’s currently writing. It’s not lost on me that parts of the hero, as she called him, resemble myself, but I try my best not to let my chest get swelled with too much pride over that fact.

  “I can’t wait to read it.”

  Her expression stills and her lips press together tightly. “What?”

  “What?”

  “You said you want to read it?”

  “Of course,” I repeat.

  The way she seems surprised or shocked by the fact that I’d show interest in what she does for a living, only reminds me of the fact that her ex is an enormous toolbag. She deserves someone who gives a damn, just like she does. She is always asking me questions about The Escape, and fishing and the docks. Pretty much anything that is involved in my life, she wants to know about. Just like I want to know about hers.

  I want her here in the summer so she can see what it’s like. But if I’m being honest, I want her here in the summer for more reasons than just that.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Cami

  “It’s amazing, Cami.”

  I suck in a breath at my best friend’s words. “Really?”

  “Yes. Your best work. Ever.”

  She’s never once lied to me. At least, that I know of. Or, rather, not about anything regarding my writing career. It’s one of the things I appreciate, even if sometimes it was hard to hear.

  Tears spring to my eyes and my nose starts stinging but I beat it back.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m good.”

  “What’s happening with Mr. Sexy Resort Owner?”

  “We’re friends.”

  She scoffs, knowing that I’m only giving her a half-truth. “He’s good for you.” She counters and I don’t deny it. Fact is, he is good for me. The last few weeks together have been fun and
inspiring. I wrote an entire book in a little over a week because I finally felt inspired and enjoyed writing again. And that’s because of Owen.

  It’s not a surprise that the hero greatly resembles him. After we went sledding, he sent me to my cabin to get cleaned up then brought some wood down and showed me how to start a fire. He listened to me when I explained why I was up here and when I explained that I had already sent some chapters to Gretchen, he said I needed to focus on writing. I wanted to tell him that I needed to focus on other things, but he was right.

  The thing is, once I finished writing the one book, I immediately launched into another. Once the words started pouring out of me again, they wouldn’t stop. And I didn’t want them to. I’ve been at The Escape for five weeks which means I only have one left here. I’ve written one and a half books and discovered more about myself than ever before.

  He had me put together all my dirty laundry on three separate occasions and let me do my laundry at his apartment. It was something I hadn’t even thought about when I decided to hide away in Northern Minnesota for six weeks. During my self-discovery, I learned why sex on a dryer is a thing which only led to sex on the living room floor and on the kitchen counter. On laundry days, I would leave my laptop behind and allow Owen’s inspiration to become ingrained in my memory. We’d talk and laugh. Play pool and foosball in the rec room at the lodge. We’d break out the playing cards and sit at the kitchen table and get lost for hours in games of Gin Rummy.

  And our nights would end with my laundry folded and stacked in laundry baskets and me asleep in his bed after hours of discovering more about my body and his.

  Those aren’t the only times we’ve seen each other. He’ll stop in at my cabin with lunch or dinner or a breakfast burrito, not judging me for my unkempt appearance because of falling in love with my laptop for days on end. My groceries came close to running out last week and he made me give him a list, went to town for me and brought everything inside when he returned. I’ve never had anyone buy groceries for me or care for me the way Owen does.