Part of me loves it. Part of me hates it. Because the more he does, the harder I fall. And the harder I fall, the harder it will be for me to leave in one week.
He took me down to the new cabins he is in the process of building and showed me around the two new ones he built a few years ago. It’s impressive, to say the least. I see his passion in the way his eyes light up talking about it. I’ve never seen a person belong somewhere like Owen belongs to The Escape.
It’s as if his life was meant for owning a resort. He talks about the things he wants to bring and ways he encourages family time during the busy summer months. I wish I could come back here and see it all unfold.
His plans for a larger playground area for little kids is so amazing. Well thought out and I just know the families are going to love it. He works with a local family who has a food truck and another who has a wood fire stove they pull on a trailer to different locations. Both come to The Escape each week. By Owen’s account, families who’ve never met gather together for a communal meal, of sorts. Everyone is there for a common purpose. To connect. Teenagers talk about their days on the lake and what they caught with adults who are complete strangers but who listen intently and offer up their own stories.
It’s exactly what he wanted and the fact that he has this vision that he’s living every day warms my heart. Not many people have the opportunity like he does and he doesn’t take a single day of it for granted.
Just like when I plot a book, he’s always mapping out new possibilities for the resort. He talks with other resort owners about what’s working for them and isn’t afraid to use innovative ideas from others and change them to be his own. However, the way it sounds, others are using his ideas far more than he’s using theirs.
So yeah, he’s inspiring. For so many reasons.
“Did I lose ya?”
“I’m here.”
“Just thinking of him again?”
I don’t respond to that because she knows I was.
“Are you going to be okay?” she asks quietly.
“Of course.”
“One week,” she reminds me of my time limit I have for spending time with Owen.
“I know,” I snap.
“Just saying, Cami. I know you. Probably as well or better than you know yourself. And I’ve never heard you talk about a guy like you talk about Owen. If it’s not permanent, you might want to start thinking about how to protect and distance yourself from him before you’re too far gone.”
I know all this. I feel myself falling. Five weeks together — well, technically less time than that but I’m not about to pull out a calendar — and that’s all it’s taken. I just can’t stop myself from continuing what we have.
Friends with benefits.
It seems so… small compared to what we have. But it’s also not as if we’re in a relationship, either. We sleep together and talk and laugh.
Okay, that’s pretty much exactly what a relationship is, minus going out on dates. But if I’m being honest, I do feel like we go on dates. They’re just different than what has become the standard of dinner and a movie. Our dates consist of hanging out and having picnics in front of the fireplace, watching movies in his apartment, or challenging each other to games of pool.
We don’t see anyone else.
We’re secluded from the rest of the world and I wonder if that’s why what we have works. If we were out in the public or dating in the traditional sense, would we get along as well as we do? If others invaded our little sanctuary, would things change?
There’s no answering to anyone else about the fact that we’re having sex — lots and lots of sex — but aren’t in a committed relationship. And it makes what we have… easy. Too easy. So easy, in fact, that I already feel myself not wanting to shake anything up by leaving.
It’s the end of March and even though there’s still a hint of winter hanging in the air and on the ground, I see the beginning of spring all around us. Our walks outside don’t require a full snowsuit like they once did, though I do still have to wear my boots as the ground is muddy and sloppy.
“Did you get the stain out of your jeans after you fell the other day?”
“I think so. Luckily Owen had some good stain remover and we were able to wash them quickly.”
She laughs and I know she’s picturing me sliding down the hill flat on my butt when I slipped on some mud. Owen laughed. Hard. He tried to catch me before I went down, arms windmilling as I tried to stop myself from falling, which ended up meaning he got whapped in the side of the head and fell down right behind me. We were covered in mud and couldn’t stop laughing, much like the time I nailed him with my sled.
“We’re always meeting like this,” he said to me, a glob of mud inexplicably stuck to his cheek.
“Maybe I’m bad luck.” I laughed.
He didn’t agree. He gave me a sloppy kiss that ended with the tips of my hair trailing across the muddy ground. But getting cleaned up together in my tiny shower was so worth it.
“Okay, now that I know you’re in a good place, there are two things I need to talk to you about.”
“Uh oh.”
“No worries. First, I want you to enjoy the last week you have with Owen. And promise me that you’ll keep an open mind about where it ends with him.”
“Where it ends?”
“Let me rephrase that. If it ends.”
“It has to,” I remind her. “I don’t live in Minnesota, Gretch. I live in Tennessee.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“Think about it, promise me that, okay?”
“Okay?” I really don’t even know what I’m promising but I can definitely promise that I’ll be thinking. Because that’s all I’ve been doing since Owen and I started spending time together. Though, maybe that was inevitable. It’s not as if there are a lot of options for him when it comes to women at The Escape. Maybe it’s just a matter of convenience.
“Okay, scratch that. Stop thinking.”
“What?”
“I can practically hear the wheels turning and it’s not pretty. What are you thinking?”
I pour myself a cup of coffee and add a touch of creamer to it. “That maybe being with Owen isn’t because of me at all. I mean, there’s no one else here for either of us—"
“Stop talking. That’s not remotely true and you know it.”
“Do I, though? When have I been a good judge of character when it comes to men, Gretchen?”
I have a seat on the deck, curl up, and pull a blanket over my legs, sip on my coffee, and look out at the lake. “You’re a good judge, you just chose to ignore it.”
“Maybe,” I sigh. “What was the second thing?”
“Stay calm when I tell you this, okay?”
“That’s not a great lead in.”
“I know, I know. But it’s a necessary one. Trust me.”
“Just spit it out,” I demand and set my coffee down on the floor beside my chair. I have a feeling whatever she’s about to tell me, I’m not going to like and it would be a terrible thing to waste any coffee by spilling it.
“This is unfortunately two-fold. First, I found out Scott’s been staying at your house.”
“What?!” I shout. “How is that possible? I changed the locks!”
“Well, he’s somehow swindled his way inside. I assume he called a locksmith after he found out you were gone and fed them some story about being locked out of your house and that he lived there. I mean, it probably wasn’t hard since his name was on the home at one point.”
“Shit.”
“Right. He’s really a jerk, huh?”
“Yes.” I scowl and feel my temperature rise as I think about him being such a dumbass. “What else?”
“Well, um, this part is a bit worse.”
“Just come out with it, Gretchen!”
“He’s not there alone.”
“What?” I breathe out.
“Yeah. He um, okay, my h
usband Chris…”
“I know your husband’s name, Gretchen,” I snap.
“Sorry! Sorry! It’s just… this isn’t easy, okay! Chris said he went past your place a few nights ago and all the lights were on. So he thought maybe you’d come home early. He was going to ask me about it but he walked in the door to chaos because the kids had come down with a horrible case of the stomach flu about ten minutes before.”
“Are they okay now?”
“Yeah, but it was a rough twenty-four hours.”
“Yikes.”
“Pretty much. Also, he SO totally didn’t deserve you. I mean, I just tell you that your husband…”
“EX!”
“Right, ex-husband is squatting in your house and you have the forethought to ask if my kids are okay. You’re awesomesauce. Anyway, he remembered last night and asked. I flipped out, we threw the kids in the van and drove over there. I pretty much busted through the door and demanded answers. The woman, she pretended like she had no idea what was going on but hello, there’s you everywhere in that house. Your office and pictures on the walls. She totally knew. What a bitch, right?”
I’m breathing heavy, anger ramping up. Who the hell does Scott think he is? What an entitled little prick! “Who is she?”
She makes a sound like she’s sucking in a breath. “That’s the part that gets even worse.”
I laugh because really, what else is there to do? “How is that possible?”
“Well, she’s a stripper, which, whatever, a girl’s gotta have a job, right? No judgment from me for that but… she’s in delicate condition.”
I keep laughing despite the seriousness (and extreme annoyance) of this conversation. “Delicate condition? What are we? In Regency days?”
“First of all, remind me to tell you about the amazing new Regency I read last week. It was ah-mazing. The hero? Swoon. For real. Second of all, I was trying to be kind. She’s pregnant.”
“I gathered that.”
“And not just a little bit. She’s like six or seven months pregnant.”
“You said she is a stripper. Not was.”
“She is. She’s still working the pole, big ol’ belly and all. Apparently there’s a big fetish for that sort of thing.”
Of course there is.
I gulp. “Is it… his?”
“According to them? Yes.”
I gasp and place my feet back on the floor from where they were tucked beneath me. He always said he didn’t want kids. “That fucker!” I rarely cuss but sometimes it’s just called for. This would be one of those situations for sure.
“Yup. But don’t worry. Chris is taking care of it. He called his brother, David, the one who used to be a cop, and they paid them both another visit at your place. He’s out of there for the time being, but he’s freaking pissed that he got caught. What a dumbass, though! He had the house lit up like he was having a freaking party. It’s not as if no one around knows you two got divorced. He’s just an idiot. Idiot, I tell you!” She’s probably shaking her fist in the air right now because that’s how she is.
“That he is.”
“He found out where you’ve been, said that it was bullshit that his home was sitting empty for all that time when he could have been staying there.”
“He’s such a fucker!” I repeat, because it’s true and bears repeating.
“He is.”
“What do I do?”
“Contact your lawyer, let him know what went down. You probably need to contact the police station and file a report. You know, since David is no longer a cop but still used his past to scare him shitless.”
“Good,” I grunt.
“I know. I wish I could have been there.”
“Me, too,” I admit. I stand up, letting the blanket fall from my lap and pace around the small space of the deck. Sighing in frustration, I end up growling and letting out a loud cry.
“That’s good. Let it out.” Gretchen encourages.
I put the phone down and spread my arms around me as I scream again. I know I look and sound like a crazy person but that’s what I’ve been reduced to. Once I have myself under control again, I pick up my phone. “I just want to know when I’m going to be free of him.”
“Well, probably never. He is your ex-husband, after all.”
Holding my phone against my ear, I lean down and grab my coffee with my other hand and make my way back inside the cabin. “Thank goodness for the ex factor there.”
“Couldn’t agree with you more.”
“I’m coming home early,” I tell her.
“No! No, you will not.”
“Gretchen, I ran away and it’s time for me to accept my reality.”
“You did not run away. You were fed up and needed a break. You’ve accepted it. The reality just sucks donkey balls and came back to bite you in the ass again.”
I feel tears threaten but I’m sick of crying over Scott and the things he’s done. I swallow hard, refusing to give him that. What scares me the most, though, is the strong feeling of wanting to discuss it with Owen. Get his advice and his opinion on what I should do.
“Why don’t you just enjoy your last week up there?”
“I’m not sure I can,” I admit.
“Well, I can’t say for sure, but I think that leaving early would be a bigger mistake than marrying Scott.”
I’m afraid of the same thing. But if I’ve learned anything from the last eight years with Scott, it’s that everyone is hiding something. And it’d be good to remind myself of this. To safeguard my heart and the only way to do that is to say out loud what I’ve been somewhat lying to myself about since Owen and I started.
“That may be, but Owen and I both knew that this had to end. I’m not about to let myself get attached to something if there’s no chance of it becoming permanent. He knows I’m leaving and he’s okay with that. And believe it or not, I am, too. I’m not looking for another relationship anytime soon, Gretchen. I only came here to find inspiration and for a break from life. I got that. And, bonus, I had some pretty damn good sex, too. Now it’s time for me to get back to that life I was taking a break from. Besides. You were the one who told me I needed to find a transition guy. Someone who would help me get over everything that happened with Scott and move on. I did that. I would think you’d be happy for me.”
“Cami,” she sighs when I finish my speech. Right now, I’m thinking she knows me too well. Gretchen sees through my bullshit and her sigh is her way of calling me out.
“I’m fine.”
“Lies. So many, many lies. But you’re my best friend so I’ll drop it this time because I know you need to get used to the idea of something more with him. Just, do me a favor and think about what you’re coming home to, and what you’re leaving. Because, Cami?”
“Yeah?”
“Even without meeting Owen, I know you’re leaving someone who’s meant to be in your life.”
“Maybe it’s not a forever thing, though.”
“How do you know if you don’t try?”
She’s right. I don’t know. But how do I take that chance? I married my first college boyfriend and Owen is the first man I’ve met since that same marriage imploded. “I need time,” I tell her.
“I know you do. Talk to him. What have you got to lose?”
What do I have to lose? Pretty much everything.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Owen
I’m outside power washing the deck so I can stain it and can’t stop thinking about last night. Cami came flying through the door off the deck and straddled me where I was sitting on the couch. I thought she was going to be busy writing all night long so I hadn’t planned on seeing her.
To say it was a pleasant surprise would be an understatement.
She attacked my mouth, holding the back of my head to keep me from moving away from her. Lucky for her, and me, I was only in my boxers which gave her easy and quick access to what she wanted. I love it when she’s aggressive in the bedro
om. She lets me have control but is never afraid of showing me what she wants. And I love giving it to her. She’s a firecracker in the bedroom — or wherever we end up — and isn’t embarrassed or ashamed to own it.
There’s no way I’ll be able to say goodbye to her in a week. Not a chance in hell will I be able to watch her drive away and not beg her for a chance to see if we can figure out how to make it work between us. We’re too good together. And it’s not just the sex, though that’s fantastic. It’s everything about her. I wasn’t expecting her and normally I’m not good with surprises or change. Maybe that’s why I’m having such a hard time knowing how to let her go.
She’s just so… good.
I hear a war cry come from Cami’s cabin and go on alert, forgetting all about the incredible sex we had last night — and this morning. The scream must be quite something to be heard over the roar of the motor and spray of the water. I stop what I’m doing, turn off the power washer, and listen closely only to hear it again.
Dropping the wand, I rush down the steps and down the hill. The weather lately has been unseasonably warm. For as harsh of a winter we had, I expected us to have cold and wet weather for a long time into the springtime but I was proven wrong. The warmer temperatures have allowed me to get to work on the outside of the cabins and I’ve gotten quite a few more reservations than I typically do this time of year. A lot of resorts close their doors completely because the owners don’t stay year-round. Since I’m here, as long as the cabin is there and ready for someone to stay, I figure why not? By this time next week, the resort will be at half-full capacity, which is half-full more than I normally have. That also means I have a shit ton of work to do to get the resort guest-ready.
When I get down to Cami’s cabin, the entry door is open, leaving just the screen door in place and I stop when I see Cami’s back to me, her phone pressed to her ear.
“I’m coming home early,” she says quietly and my stomach sinks. I knew she was leaving. I’ve been very aware of the calendar and what happens in a week. Blood rushes through my ears and I feel light-headed. Why is she leaving early? I thought she was happy here.
Staying For You Page 19
