by MJ Fredrick
“Don’t want to get up.”
“I thought you’d grown out of that.” He hefted his bag on his shoulder. “Don’t make me sic Libby on you.”
She closed her arms around the pillow. “I can take her.”
He snatched the end of the bedspread and yanked it down her body, exposing her to the cold air.
She opened one eye and glared. “You play dirty.”
“It’s warmer in the car anyway. Come on. I’ll even buy breakfast.”
“This doesn’t count as breakfast,” she complained, unwrapping her sausage biscuit. Libby looked quite interested. Willow held the sandwich out of reach.
“It’ll hold you. You know Mom and Mel will have a spread.”
She pulled her feet up on the seat and picked at the biscuit. She hadn’t changed out of her sweatpants, though now she was toasty. But she missed Cam’s arms around her. She couldn’t believe how easy it had been to go into his embrace last night, to fall asleep in them. He’d felt so strong. Cam had always been her rock, but she’d never thought of him as physically strong. After all, he spent most of his time in front of the computer.
Well, apparently not.
She didn’t give into the urge to watch his big hands on the steering wheel, or his graceful movements as he guided the car down the road, occasionally taking a bite from his own breakfast sandwich.
“How long until we get there?”
“About four hours.”
“We’ll miss the parade.” When he glanced over, she clarified. “Remember watching the parade when we were kids?”
She used to go to his house early on Thanksgiving morning, since she and her mom were always invited for dinner anyway. She and Cam would stretch out on the living room rug and watch the floats and balloons and goofy musical acts. She liked the marching bands best. His mom had paused in her Thanksgiving preparations to make them hot cocoa with marshmallows. Because of his mom, Thanksgiving was her favorite holiday. She’d gone to his house on Christmas as well, but that was more family time, more closed, and she’d felt like an outsider. But on Thanksgiving, she’d been part of the family.
She’d been looking for something similar with the DiNorios, and while they’d obviously wanted to make her part of the family, she hadn’t been comfortable there. Nothing felt more like home than the Trask house.
She was going home for Thanksgiving.
Her phone rang. She fished it from her purse, knowing before she saw the display who was calling.
“Hi, Gwyn.”
“I’m thinking the colors in the print ad are wrong,” Gwyn said without preamble, not even a reference to their disconnected call yesterday. “Are you sure blue and brown aren’t too 1970s?”
This wasn’t the first round of this conversation. Willow bit back a sigh, reminding herself that Mr. LeFleur—the whole company—counted on her patience here. “I agree the wrong shade of blue could give you that idea, but this is more of a sea green. And it’s not a heavy brown, but a creamy chocolate. I have the brown swirling into the blue with delicate tendrils. It’s really lovely.”
“Can you send me the mock-up of the ad?”
“Not just now—I’m in the car on the way to Thanksgiving dinner.” She winced as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She didn’t want to embarrass Gwyn by reminding her of the holiday.
She shouldn’t have worried. Gwyn didn’t acknowledge her comment.
“Could you send it once you reach your destination?”
“If they have Wi-Fi. I’m not certain. I’ll get it to you by the end of the day, though, I promise.”
Gwyn hesitated, and agreed before she disconnected abruptly.
“Client?” Cam asked.
“A young woman taking over her family’s hotel chain. She wanted to work with someone her age, someone who was hungry to land a big client, so she approached our company, and Mr. LeFleur assigned her to me. If I do well on this first ad, she’s promised us a long-term commitment.”
He glanced toward the phone. “She sounds high maintenance.”
Willow tucked the phone away, not willing to admit he was right. “She’s anxious to do well. She has big shoes to fill and she wants to impress her family, wants to show them their trust in her is deserved. So I want to show her the same.”
“Even taking phone calls on Thanksgiving.”
“It’s just one holiday. If I satisfy her, I’ll have a good account and something new for my portfolio. And my company could use the business these days. It doesn’t bother me.”
He grunted, a signal that he didn’t believe her. Okay, she was lying a bit. She had to swallow her frustration when she saw Gwyn’s number on her phone, knowing it would be another micromanaging question. But it wouldn’t last forever. Gwyn was a means to an end.
“Do you mind?” She motioned to his iPod, suddenly in the mood for nostalgic music.
“Knock yourself out.”
She set her sandwich on the wrapper on the dashboard and took the player out of the dock. She scrolled through it. One band from their childhood called to her, one she remembered listening to as they rode their bikes to Dairy Queen on a summer afternoon. She clicked on the album and set the player back in the dock. He grinned when the music played, and started to sing along. She took a sip of coffee and joined in, harmonizing. He lifted his eyebrows and nodded in approval as they belted out the chorus.
“I forgot how much fun that was, singing at the top of my lungs in the car,” she said.
“Yeah, I can’t exactly do it on the bus.”
She laughed. “You could, but they might send you somewhere a little more secure than the police station.” She scrolled through the playlist for another song.
Cam looked over at the top of Willow’s bent head. She was so much more relaxed today, and he hadn’t seen that light in her eyes for months. She was always so serious, so determined to do well in her job, make a success of herself. But now, she was the girl he’d fallen in love with, happy, carefree.
If only he could find the nerve to tell her.
Chapter Three
Cam pulled the Chevelle up in front of his sister’s two-story colonial house just before two. He’d called about a half hour earlier, and as he drove into the long driveway, the front door opened and his family spilled out of the house. While his mom and dad—whom he’d just seen the weekend before—embraced him, Brian inspected the car for damage, running his hand over the bottom of the quarter panel, where salt from the road had crusted.
“What are all these plastic bottles in the backseat?” he demanded.
“We thought Mel could recycle them,” Cam replied easily.
“Geez, that many? Did you cross Death Valley? I thought you were coming from Wisconsin.” Brian yanked open the car door and began scooping them out.
“Recycle, not trash,” Cam reminded as he headed toward the side of the house with an armload.
Willow rounded the hood, and Cam wondered if he was the only one who saw her hesitate, her bag in front of her in an almost defensive manner. Then she was swept up in embraces and exclamations and praise. Her shy smile bloomed into a full-fledged one and she was hugging and laughing, then shrieking with delight as Mel appeared in the door, round and off balance. Willow rushed toward her, arms outstretched, and Cam watched the women embrace.
“It’s good you brought Willow,” his father said as his mother reached into the car to scoop up Libby.
“She brought me.” Cam didn’t take his gaze from her. “I couldn’t say no when she asked.”
“You never could,” his father replied with an insightfulness that made Cam snap his gaze to the older man.
Brian broke the moment by punching him in the arm as he passed to return to the house.
Cam lifted his hand to his bicep. “Ow. What was that for?”
“Eating in my car.”
The house was noisy as Cam followed the rest of his family inside. His nephews, his brother Paul’s kids, had Libby on the floor between the
m, to the delight of the dog, who was so excited she peed all over Melanie’s hardwood floors. His parents and Melanie surrounded Willow and all talked at once. Cam set his duffel on the bottom stair and straightened, breathing in the aroma of a Thanksgiving dinner almost ready for the table.
Then he heard Willow say, “Is there time for me to take a shower before we eat? The motel where we stayed last night didn’t have hot water.”
It was as though a needle had scratched across a record, leaving the room in complete silence. Willow met Cam’s gaze and widened her eyes in question. Before he could step in, his mother, Angela, asked, her voice deceptively calm, “You stayed in a motel last night?”
“Yes, after we left the police station, we were too tired—”
“The police station?” his father demanded.
“Brian didn’t tell you?” Willow looked at Cam’s brother.
Brian shrugged. “I didn’t think you wanted me to.”
Angela spun on Cam. “Why were you at the police station?”
“I got pulled in for driving a stolen car. Brian’s car. I wasn’t actually charged.” But he couldn’t help rubbing his wrists where he still felt the handcuffs.
“So you stayed in a motel.” She turned back to Willow, as if she could get a straight answer out of her.
“Just to catch a few hours sleep,” Cam said quickly.
“Only there was no heat and no hot water. It was miserable.” Willow pushed her curls back from her face, looking anything but miserable. “So is there time?”
“Sure. I’ll show you the shower, and where your room is. We had to do some quick rearranging.” Mel crossed the room to the stairs and grasped the rail to pull herself up. “But if I’d known, I would have put you and Cam together and left Brian alone.”
“Cam?” Mel’s meaning—his whole family’s suspicion—finally appeared to sink in. “We’re not—” She glanced at Paul’s boys. “We’re not together. We just—we’re not together.”
“Oh.” Disappointment creased Mel’s face, but she brightened again almost immediately. “Come on, then. I’ll show you. Is that your luggage?” She nodded at the reusable shopping bag that Willow had added to her purchase at the discount store to appease Cam. “What happened?”
“Long story,” Willow said as they headed up the stairs.
Cam waited until he heard a door close before he turned back to his family. “I won’t be staying tonight. I need to get to Saint Paul to catch the train before ten. Can you make sure she gets back home?”
“Saint Paul? Why? The train?” his mother asked, brows drawn together.
Too late, Cam remembered he hadn’t wanted to say anything about the job until it was a done deal. Again he glanced at the stairs, then his parents. “I have a job interview in Seattle. They liked my game and may want to hire me to design games for them. I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure.”
“Whether you were moving to Seattle.” His mother’s voice was strident with distress and he resisted the urge to shush her.
“Mom, you know it’s something I’ve wanted to do.”
Concern lined her face. “But moving across country—we’ll never see you again.”
He took a placating step toward her. “Of course you will, and anyway, you’re putting the cart before the horse. I don’t have the job, just the interview.”
“Which they want you there for. That’s a good sign,” his father said, earning a sharp look from his mother.
“I’m trying not to read too much into it.” Cam turned to his mom. “I don’t want Willow to know yet.”
His mother’s expression tightened. “Of course.” She seemed to shake off her distress as Mel descended the stairs. She took Cam’s arm. “Come help me set the table.”
He cast Brian a curious look but followed his mother into the kitchen, past the dining room table that appeared to be already set.
“What’s going on between the two of you?” She leaned against the sink and folded her arms, keeping her tone casual, as if she was making an effort not to alarm him.
“Nothing.”
“Yet you rush off to her aid when you wouldn’t come to dinner with your family? I presume that was because of the job interview?”
“It was. But she doesn’t have anyone else.”
She pressed her lips together. “You know I love her like a daughter, but she’s not right for you, Cam. She wants too much. Anything you give her will never be enough. I don’t want that for you. You deserve what you had with Laura—a partnership, a woman who adored you and who was happy with you. I worry Willow will try to make you someone you aren’t.”
He couldn’t say he hadn’t had the same fears. He’d seen Willow go after the things she’d never had as a child, thinking they would make her happy. As far as he could tell, they hadn’t. But having his doubts voiced by his mother put his back up.
“I know her better than anyone, Mom.”
Angela inclined her head in concession. “I’m sure you do. But make sure you know yourself, as well. I don’t want to see you give up your dreams. Not again.”
“I know what I want, Mom.” And the more time he spent with Willow, the more certain he was of it. Which put him in a dilemma. If he got this job, he’d move to Seattle, away from his family and Willow. But he hated his job now. So did he stay in a job he hated and hope that Willow returned his feelings? Or did he move away and leave behind the woman who could be the love of his life? “Did you need me to help with something?”
His mother blew out a breath, giving him an exasperated look, her hands braced on the counter. But she didn’t say anything except, “Carry that casserole to the table.”
He was passing through the kitchen’s swinging door a few minutes later as Willow bounded down the stairs, looking fresh and bright eyed, her curls damp but drying quickly. She took his breath away. Her being here felt right, and he was tempted to blow off the trip to Seattle, just to see…but no. Now wasn’t the time.
“I didn’t want to keep anyone waiting,” she said.
Cam waited for her to look at him, but instead she slid into the chair Mel indicated, the one on Cam’s right, and chattered with the rest of his family as everyone sat. She took his hand for the prayer and sent him a small smile he couldn’t decipher. He wanted to hold on to her hand for a moment longer after the prayer ended, but was aware their interactions were being analyzed. He didn’t want anyone drawing conclusions before he knew what was going on himself. So he released her hand and reached for the yams.
“So what happened to your Thanksgiving plans, Willow?” Mel asked as she balanced the bowl of mashed potatoes.
Cam stilled, aware of the slight hitch in Willow’s breath. But she faltered only slightly as she spooned cranberries on top of her slice of turkey.
“I made a bad decision. I thought maybe this guy, Jerry, might be someone I could get serious about. I went with him to visit his folks in Wisconsin.”
“You weren’t serious already? I would think you’d be serious first before you’d meet his family,” Angela said.
Cam cast his mother a warning glance, which she pretended not to see.
“No, just testing the waters,” Willow said. “And I’ve never been so glad.”
“What did he do?” Angela wanted to know.
“Oh.” Willow turned her attention to her food, waving her fork above her plate. “His parents wanted to buy me a house.”
“A house?”
“Next door to them. For me and Jerry.”
“Oh.” Angela sat back. “I would have run too.”
***
Arms loaded with plates after dinner, Willow paused outside the kitchen when she heard Mel’s hushed voice through the swinging door. “I disagree,” Mel was saying. “I think she’s just what he needs. Don’t you see the way he looks at her?”
Willow listened to make sure that no one was coming the other way.
“But I didn’t see her look at him,” Angela replied. “N
ot once. It’s all one-sided and that is not good for him. She’s not good for him.”
They had to be talking about her and Cam. They were the only non-couple here. Cam was looking at her? Okay, she knew that he dropped everything to come get her from Jerry’s, but looking at her? No. They were only friends. She took a deep breath, preparing to walk through the swinging door to set Mel and Angela straight. Plus, the plates were getting pretty heavy. But she couldn’t resist listening a little longer, though her mother’s warnings that “an eavesdropper always hears something she’d rather not” echoed in her head.
“He’s a grown man. He knows what he wants.”
“That’s not the problem. What he needs is the problem. And as much as it kills me to say it, he needs this new job.”
Cam had a new job? He hadn’t said anything. Besides, what did that have to do with her? She wanted him to get a new job.
Before her mother’s warning could come true, Willow pasted a grin on her face and pushed through the door.
“This is the last of it,” she announced brightly.
As expected, Mel and Angela fell silent. Willow joined Paul’s wife, Vicky, at the sink and rolled up her sleeves to pitch in, as the words she’d heard played again and again in her head.
Once the kitchen was sparkling, Willow went in search of Cam. She found him on the front porch with his dad, Brian, Paul and Mel’s husband, Isaac. Ostensibly, they were keeping an eye on Paul’s boys, who wrestled in a light layer of snow. To a man, they each held a bottle of beer, and Cam’s dad smoked a cigarette.
“Cold,” she observed, arms folded tightly about her.
“Happens when it snows,” Brian retorted.
She stuck her tongue out at him, then turned to Cam, who lounged in a chair. “Want to go for a walk?”
He glanced up, surprised. “Sure. Get your coat.”
She stepped into the entryway, folded her coat around her and returned to the patio to see Cam on his feet waiting for her. The rest of the men watched curiously. Cam ignored them, so she did too, and they headed down the steps.
