Capturing You (Maple Grove Romance Book 1)

by Katana Collins

  He walked to the door, tossing the dust rag into basket of cleaning supplies on the way. Though pointless, he still attempted to smooth his wavy hair with the palm of his hand. He opened the door, hollering as a woman barged through and crushed him in a bear hug.

  “Callie?” He blinked a few times, taking the moment to register his youngest sister. “I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow?”

  “Classes today were canceled and I traded my shift tonight with another coworker at the ski lodge. Thought I could catch up with you and Maddster.”

  “Well then, I hate to break it to you, but Maddie’s spending the night at Mom’s.” Callie pulled a bottle of wine out of her purse, a big smile spreading across her face. “Oh, I know.”

  Cam laughed, wrapping a bicep around her neck and pulling her in for another hug. He planted a kiss on her forehead. “You sure you’re okay taking the night off of work?” As far as he knew, she was on a tight budget at school as it was. He, along with every Tripp sibling and their mom, all offered to help her financially, but she refused every time. She was determined to make it on her own.

  She had grown up so much, Cam thought, studying her dimpled grin. After his dad’s death, his mom went back to work and he helped raise her along with his other siblings. There were no high school parties in his past; no sneaking out after curfew to make-out with a girlfriend. Sure, he had a girlfriend in high school, but his family always took priority. His mom was a nurse, which meant she worked all sorts of crazy hours. Someone had to be home for the younger ones—and his brother Steve, though only a year younger, was never the man for the job.

  “Tell Grandma I’m almost ready,” Maddie called from the top of the stairs.

  “Maddster! Get your booty down here and give your aunt a Welcome Home hug.”

  A rhythmic thumping pounded down the hall above them.

  “Aunt Callie!” Maddie came flying down the stairs. She pounced and was entrapped into another big hug.

  Cam couldn’t help but smile. Things felt suddenly a lot less bleak. Nothing would replace Maddie’s mom, of course. But man, this kid had a lot of people in her life. More than most.

  “Hey kid. Go get your stuff together. Grandma’s waiting outside.” Callie gave her a loving pat on the bum.

  “Are you sleeping over with me and Grandma tonight?” Her voice quivered with excitement.

  “Not tonight, but I’m here all weekend to see your auction. You’re gonna be sick of me by the time I leave on Sunday.”

  “You came home just to see my auction?” There was an intensity to the question, and she flipped her hair over her shoulder dramatically.

  Cam watched the adult gesture and immediately thought of Lydia. She was already rubbing off on his kid.

  Callie sent him a questioning glance. None of the women in his family would be caught dead tossing their hair like some little vixen. His sister spoke through a chuckle, looking uncertainly back and forth between her brother and his daughter. “Um, yeah, I did. What’s with the diva act?” She flitted a finger up and down, pointing at Maddie who lifted a shoulder to her chin, head turned.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” She strutted back up the stairs.

  Callie watched the display, mouth agape. Shifting her stare to Cam, her eyes lowered in thought. “You!” She poked him in the chest. “You’re dating someone!”

  Lydia popped into his head for the millionth time this evening.

  “Get the hell outta here.” He dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. But seriously, how did women sense these things? It was creepy as hell.

  “You are. You’re totally seeing someone.” Callie ran to the base of the stairs, to make sure Maddie wasn’t there listening, then dragged him by the elbow into the kitchen. With a hand on each shoulder, she shoved him into a seat. “Why didn’t you tell me, you piece of shit.”

  Drawers clattered open and closed as she rummaged around, finding a corkscrew. With a little elbow grease, she pulled the cork and poured two glasses of red, shoving one toward Cam.

  “There’s nothing to tell—I promise.”

  “Oh yeah, right.” She clucked her tongue. “You just sucked your teeth—it’s totally your tell. Sidebar: never play poker, bro.”

  “Okay, fine. She’s been hanging around this reporter woman who’s doing a story about this weekend’s affairs. That’s all. It’s a city woman… all sparkly and glamorous. Maddie’s just a little enchanted by her at the moment.”

  “She is…? Or you are?”

  He took a gulp of wine, stopping himself just before he ran a tongue across his teeth again. Damn, it was sweet. Weren’t reds supposed to be spicier? This was no doubt the cheap stuff college kids bought for parties. It was so easy to forget how young Callie still was. “City girls aren’t my type.”

  “Well, that’s a stupid answer.”

  “For a stupid question.”

  She sipped her wine, seeming to relish the sugary, fruity flavor. “Have you forgotten that Hannah was from Boston? She was a city girl.”

  He grunted. Hannah was not a city girl. She had an urban flare, but she loved a good day spent outside, kayaking and hiking. She had no qualms about picking up a wrench and helping him repair the toilet when it leaked. “Two different worlds, Callie.”

  “Okay, I don’t even know what that means.” She rolled her eyes and drained the rest of her wine, grabbing the bottle to refill their glasses.

  “Damn, slow down.” He covered the top of his glass with his palm.

  “Why?” An evil grin crept across her cute-as-a-button face. “We’ve got nowhere to be, and I’ve got two more bottles in my bag.”

  *

  Lydia paced from the kitchen to the living room and back again. Mara was supposed to call hours ago to discuss the images. The clock above the fridge ticked, rounding close to midnight. Her laptop chimed as a new email popped into her inbox and moments later, her phone was ringing. Mara.

  She settled into Cam’s chair and with a final deep breath, answered. “This is Lydia.”

  “Lydia,” Mara snapped, and she braced herself for some sort of lecture. “These photos are brilliant. Seriously, great work.”

  Was that… a compliment? From the impossible to please Mara Stein? “Really?” Lydia croaked, scrambling for a sip of water before continuing. “I was afraid you would think the photos were a little… um, boring.”

  “Are you kidding? They’re gold. Well, most of them were a little too sweet. Little kids and a town pitching in,” Mara grunted, a sort of grotesque sound that mirrored her apparent feelings of charity work. “I sent you an email with a list of the images I want you to use. But you know I prefer to work in hard copy form. I printed the pictures out last night and overnighted them to you, along with my photo caption ideas. They’ll arrive sometime tomorrow.”

  “I never sent you my new address here at the guest house—”

  “I got it from the principal,” she said.

  Nerves tumbled in her stomach. “I wanted to run an idea by you. There’s going to be some celebrity involvement here at the auction. I won’t have any photos to show you until after the event Saturday night, but I think there’s a story here about how some celebrities are taking an active philanthropic intere—”

  “That’s great. I’ll have a look at all the pictures when you’re back and we’ll see. If we’re lucky, one of those up and coming artists at the residency will have a nervous breakdown at the event or something.” The line went dead and Lydia clunked her forehead with the phone. How could someone possibly get so much pleasure from another person’s pain? Sure, they were celebrities, but that didn’t mean they were asking for every second of their lives to be broadcast. It didn’t mean that they weren’t entitled to some privacy.

  What in the world had happened to Mara to make her such a bitter person? Or was it just an innate personality trait? What a miserable way to live; only finding happiness at the expense of others. And yet, here Lydia was, turning into a miniatur
e Mara. Dirty reporting, click bait headlines… this was her life.

  Her throat burned and she curled her knees under her chin, looking out the window. Thick snowflakes fell like movie snow, dusting the ground in a blanket of white.

  Cam had kissed her. Again. It was like those lips of his had awoken a beast within her. A beast that had been deprived of affection, arousal, and passion for months. And the beast was hungry. She shook the fog from her head, scrambling the thoughts away. She could not think of him that way. Not yet. Not until she talked to him. Unfortunately, every time she went to open her mouth, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  That Noah Blue article was easily one of the single lowest points of her career. And wasn’t it just her luck that she’d be interested in the man’s brother? A breath buzzed through her lips and she dropped her chin into her hand, hypnotized by the falling snow. Maybe it would be fine? Maybe Cam would accept her apology and understand that she actually had very little to do with that article, even though her name was the byline.

  The lake, glistening in the moonlight and with the silvery snow, beckoned her from the edge of the property. Fresh, crisp air might do her some good, she thought. Grabbing her coat, she shut the door behind her and walked silently in the dark night toward the lake.

  *

  It didn’t take long before Cam was lying on the floor, face up, a half-empty bottle of wine clutched in a hand. His ceiling fan was so dirty. He made a mental note to dust up there next time. If he even remembered in this inebriated state. Do drunk people use words like inebriated? Apparently this one did.

  He looked to his left, swiveling his head without lifting it off the floor. Callie was lying face down on his couch. One leg dangled off the edge and knuckles that grasped her bottle of vino scraped the floor. Her cheek was squished making her loose lips pucker. Sensing his stare, she opened her eyes; they were red and bloodshot. “You’re so drunk,” she slurred.

  “You’re an enabebler.” Cam attempted to speak. Clearly it wasn’t going well. He could tell in his own head it was wrong, and his sister broke out in a fit of giggles.

  “This is fun,” she said. “Why didn’t we ever do this before?”

  “Because you’re young and living it up at college. Who wants to drink with a brother who’s almost ten years their senior?” Bringing the bottle to his lips, he took another swig. The sweetness wasn’t so much of an issue after your sixth glass. And after almost a whole bottle? You didn’t even taste it anymore.

  Callie sat up on an arm, propping her body in some sort of yoga-like pose that made Cam’s back hurt just looking at it. Shit, he was getting old.

  “Listen, mister. I’ve been legally able to drink for…”—she counted on a few fingers, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as though the extra thinking hurt—“a long time now. There’s no excuse.” Her elbow gave out, and she fell back down onto the couch with an oomph.

  “Yeah, well, I’ve got reponsibilities. Responsilibilities,” He tried again. “Re-spons-ib-ilities.” There. He got it, finally.

  Callie broke out into another fit of giggles and rolled off the couch onto her back next to Cam. He couldn’t help but laugh too. And damn it felt good. Up until this week’s auction and Lydia’s visit, it had been creaky. Unused. “So seriously…” Callie’s eyes were only half open. “Who’s the city chick?”

  Cam groaned. Lydia. Everything came back to Lydia lately. “I need to be drunker if we’re going to talk about this.” He lifted the bottle again, the halogen lamp reflected off the tinted glass. It was noticeably lighter than before.

  “C’mon.” She propped herself up on an elbow. “Tell me about her.”

  He sighed. “She’s… beautiful. Like a sunset on… uh, a summer’s eve.”

  Callie burst out laughing again. “Okay, I think you’ve had enough.” She reached across him and took the bottle from his hands. “You just compared a woman to a feminine cleansing product.”

  He closed his eyes, picturing her face. That sleek chestnut hair. Gray eyes with little specks of gold, like his granite countertops. High cheekbones and full, plump lips.

  When he opened his eyes, Callie was looming over him, smiling. “You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” she asked.

  He groaned. “She’s leaving Sunday. It’s a moot point.”

  “Did she say it was a moot point?”

  “She doesn’t have to. I’m not a fling kind of guy. I can’t just have fun and be done.”

  Callie arched an eyebrow. “Why not? If you have an itch, scratch it. Ignoring it is just going to make it worse.”

  Cam thought of the kiss, of her breasts pressed against his body, that silk shirt tickling his skin. “Doesn’t matter,” he mumbled. “She doesn’t want me. Probably because she knows she’s leaving in a matter of days.”

  “Maybe you should ask her what she wants? Instead of assuming and giving up? And who cares if she’s going back to New York. You should sleep with her anyway.” Callie collapsed back onto the floor beside him. “I mean, as long as she’s into you, too, why not?”

  “She’s leaving,” he repeated.

  “All the more reason to do it. Neither of you will get attached.”

  “You want me to use her to get my feet wet again?”

  “If your feet get wet, I think you’re doing it wrong.”

  He groaned. “Oh, gross. You’re my baby sister… what do you know about sex?”

  She snorted a laugh. “You sure you want me answering that?”

  “Oh, God.” He covered his face with both hands. “No. You’re twelve. You’re twelve and you collect My Little Ponies.”

  Grabbing a pillow, she hit him playfully across the face. “Just think about it. We all just want you to be happy.”

  Happy. The word rolled around in his mind like a marble on a slick surface. It was too soon to be happy. Too raw. He liked the wound—liked keeping it fresh and open. It was his only connection left to Hannah.

  Cam pushed off the ground, the room spinning as he got to his feet. With a groan, he grabbed a plastic bag, gathering the empty bottles.

  “What are you doing?” Callie mumbled.

  Cam rubbed his eyes with a knuckle. “I can’t have Maddie or Mom coming home tomorrow to find these. I’ll take them out to the recycling tonight.”

  Callie gurgled something that half sounded like words before she rolled over, smashing her face into a pillow.

  The recycling was locked in a wood shed on the edge of the property to protect their garbage from raccoons and bears. Cam shivered, his unlaced boots crunching in the snow as he staggered to the shed. He had to pause a moment, leaning on the banister to make the snow falling around him and beneath his feet stop spinning.

  At the water’s edge was a vision. A beautiful woman staring out into the night. Cam blinked. Was he just seeing things? Surely he couldn’t trust his eyes when he was this drunk.

  But then, the woman turned, and he was struck by Lydia’s stunning svelte body, backlit by moonlight. She took his breath away. Tossing the recycling into the shed, he huffed toward the frozen lake, and Lydia stood there, unmoving.

  His insides wrenched and he didn’t bother thinking.

  “Cam,” she said as he approached. Only he didn’t let her get anything else out. He grasped her waist with both hands and tugged her into him, stopping just shy before his lips touched hers. “Do you want me?” he asked.

  She gasped, her mouth parting in a delicious pout. She broke his gaze, staring out to the lake. “We need to talk—”

  “Maybe.” He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. Her tongue darted out, licking the corner of her mouth where his touch had just lingered. “But for now? I just need to know if you want me… this… as much as I do?”

  Her pause, though only a matter of seconds, was absolute torture. Finally, she met his eyes. “Yes, I want you.”

  “I’m going to kiss you,” he warned. Slowly, he brought his mouth down over hers in a kiss that stirred fire ev
en on the coldest night. He was pure steel between his legs and she wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him even harder against her. Their tongues explored each other in wild, feverish movements.

  He scooped his hand into her hair, tugging the strands and pulling her head back to expose her neck. His erection nestled onto her hip, and she ground against him. “God, you are beautiful,” he whispered against her. “And smart. And talented.” Then, dragging his lips up her neck, he scraped his teeth along the tender flesh there. Her muscles quivered against his mouth and he grinned, loving that he could affect her this way.

  He kissed her jaw up to her chin, pausing just in front of her full, curvy pout. “What are you doing to me?” he rasped.

  Lydia’s eyes danced, fluttering open to meet his gaze. She licked her lips and swallowed. “You’ve been drinking.”

  “Only a little,” he lied. Cam tried to blink his alcohol-fogged brain back into commission, but all he could see was Lydia. All he wanted was Lydia. He didn’t care about the wine. Or the auction. Or the fact that she had a life waiting for her in New York. He just wanted to live in the moment and for once do what his heart desired. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I first saw you in the coffee shop,” he groaned and pressed his lips to hers once more. “I wanted to hold you and kiss away that one tear that fell from your left eye.” He trailed a finger down the side of her nose, stopping at the corner of her mouth.

  Her hand found Cam’s erection, and she squeezed him through the denim. “Fuck,” he hissed and slid one palm down her back to her ass, cupping her through flimsy pajama pants while the other slid into the front, nudging the silky boy short panties to the side.

  She pumped him through his jeans, and he brushed his fingertips across her damp heat, dipping his fingers inside. She bucked against him and cried out, her face falling into his shoulder with a stifling bite.

  God, she was so wet. So ready for him. He wanted nothing more than to bury his erection deep inside her wet sex and lose himself there forever. He plunged two fingers deeper this time, using his thumb to circle her clit. Within minutes, she was trembling into his palm, crying out. Her muscles clamped his fingers, pulsing as she came.