The Summer of Us: A Romance Anthology

by AJ Matthews

  She’d been barely surviving her absolute nightmare of a summer as it was.

  “More wine?” Marcus offered, as she drained her glass.

  Cami met his eyes, which held a bit of the devil, and she knew Marcus exactly understood that as much as Cami wanted to drown her sorrows, another glass of cabernet would not help her navigate the remainder of the evening with her skirt intact.

  Which was exactly why he was offering more wine.

  And that made her seethe.

  “No thanks.”

  Unable to indulge in the luxury of getting wasted, Cami came down from her wine buzz numbed, a little disoriented. The shock of this disaster of an evening, Marcus so close to her again. . . It was overwhelming.

  He’d swept her off her feet once. . onto her back, in his bed, in her bed, on the floor, by the river, in the wine cellar at Greystone, where if they’d been caught. . .

  But that had all been so long ago.

  Why did it still matter?

  It had just been sex, so why couldn’t she let it go?

  Cami had never behaved that way with another man, ever. Sex had never been so good with anyone else, never so. . impassioned.

  Back in March, when she’d bumped into Marcus in the gourmet grocer, he’d been divorced, just planning Sauvignon, and she’d wanted. . . revenge?

  Maybe.

  It hadn’t been revenge, though.

  Sex with Marcus hadn’t changed, not a bit. She’d learned that for her, it would never be ‘just’ sex with Marcus.

  If anything, it had been the opposite of revenge.

  It had been further punishment.

  She’d been scorched.

  Like touching a hot stove, the crazy heat of their love-making had once again been life-altering. Giving into temptation with Marcus had always been a huge mistake, but that Cami could still feel that overwhelming compulsion for him, that the animal intensity between them still existed, despite her anger, her humiliation. . It had surprised her, shocked her.

  Why?

  Of all the mistakes she’d made with Marcus, sex with him three months before was the biggest. It had been stupid. And it had sent the wrong message.

  Did Marcus really think he’d been forgiven?

  The look in his eyes said no.

  He knew better.

  The look in his eyes said that he’d been affected, too.

  The look in his eyes said he felt guilty, that he cared for Cami, the way she’d once dreamed he might.

  That was the biggest surprise of all.

  Cami declined dessert, ordering just an espresso. When the waiter brought Marcus his chocolate mousse, he tried to tempt her with a spoonful. She demurred with an impatient little sigh. “No. Thank you.”

  “We both know I’m not a dessert eater,” Marcus replied ruefully, his eyes flashing. . what? Discomfort? Remorse?

  He mustered a smile.“I guess being in your presence is such a rare treat, I don’t want the evening to end.”

  This time, she wasn’t polite. “Rare treat? Please. You can’t expect me to buy that, Marcus. I’m not at all convinced.”

  But that wasn’t true, either.

  Marcus was convincing, very convincing, and that she was tempted to fall again so easily for one of Marcus’ lines was deeply troubling.

  Voice low, so intent, he said,“I’d ask what was wrong, cherie, if I didn’t already know. I’m so sorry,” Marcus said, setting the spoon down.

  His big, warm hand covered hers, and she felt herself getting sucked in again. That made her really anxious. Cami drew hers back. “Don’t call me cherie,” she said, voice shaking.

  “Did you bring a wrap?” Marcus asked gently.

  “No,” Cami answered. Reaching under the table for her slim evening bag, she felt the uncertainty that she might not be able to resist Marcus in her gut, between her legs; she could taste it. She stood up, wanting to be away from him, away from this entire evening, most of all away from the undeniably attraction that continued to smolder between them, twisting her best intentions to shreds.

  Weak, tired and needy, Cami’s life was wearing her thin. Once again, what she felt for Marcus could consume her, could so easily overwhelm her, reduce her to a fool.

  If she gave into it.

  It was good to be out on the dimming street, a strip of sky still rosy bright to the west.

  Marcus’s fingers grazed her back, and he exhaled.“I’m sorry, Cami. So very sorry. I know I’ve hurt you, and . . ” Taking her shoulders in his big hands, he turned her to face him, his sober intensity drilling a hole in her heart. “I’ve felt so terribly about ending us. For such a long time, I’ve wanted to talk to you, to explain. I should have, in March, before we. . I have such fond memories of us together.”

  His eyes looked so damn sincere, that killer handsome face of his so damn devoted. . .

  “Fond memories? You were getting laid.”

  His eyes registered surprise. “That’s harsh. Please, don’t devalue how I feel for you, how we are together, Cami. It’s very, very rare, to have what we do. I’ve always enjoyed your company. You are very special to me.”

  “You’ve enjoyed my company? I’m special to you? I wasn’t exactly treated like valued company, was I?” Cami demanded. “After it was over, I felt like a used sex toy.”

  A look of pain crossed his face, knit his brow, and Marcus shook his head. “Don’t say that. . ” His eyes sought forgiveness, never leaving hers, trying to convince her of. . what? He squeezed her shoulders, venturing,“You left me hanging in March.”

  “March was a really, really bad idea, Marcus. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Cami waved a hand, indicating the limestone exterior of his old grand old hotel. “You were very busy. This was your priority.”

  “I’d borrowed a bunch of money, Cami. I was under pressure to open on schedule. I truly was busy. I’ve waited a long time for Sauvignon, worked hard to build her. She’s a culmination of everything I love, but not so important I’d sacrifice you, again. I’ve already made that mistake.” Marcus caressed her shoulders, looking in her eyes. “I would have made time for us, Cami. I still would, anytime.” His voice lowered, so it was just a whisper, a whisper that tore her soul. “Please, believe that. I’ve missed you so much, Cami.”

  In that moment, after the summer she’d had, Cami felt how easily she could fall right back into Marcus’ arms, let him hold her, take comfort there. It was tempting to believe they could still be everything she’d once hoped they were, and for a moment, despite all the disappointment he’d brought her way, Cami was tempted.

  But any escape Marcus offered was temporary, a desperate clinging to whatever escape she could find. Marcus was like heroin, like crack. It was only the sex they’d had that was influencing her; the escape, the false shelter it offered, the fix. However long she and Marcus might last, she’d wake up, it would be over again, and she’d be in worse shape than she already was, because she would have again been sucked into thinking she could actually have Marcus.

  Cami couldn’t allow herself the indulgence, couldn’t dare to fool herself, not even for one night. She might not survive it, not when her career was so precarious that she might actually have to return to chocolate, butter and hot ovens in the next few weeks.

  Shaking her head, Cami turned away from the temptation of Marcus’s heat, his sincerity. Crossing the darkening street, with few people around, she walked briskly towards her car.

  Marcus stayed with her, matching his steps to hers, his hand supporting her elbow; the attraction she felt to him was ridiculous. He had the perfect gentleman and lover act down pat, that was all, she told herself. It was his default mode with women. He was just that good.

  She shook her arm away from him, then let go of all that she’d been thinking about the past three years, all that she’d held back.

  “I don’t even remember you taking me on an actual date, Marcus. What did we really have at Greystone, besides sex? All you cared about was what felt
good, and at the time, I was silly enough, naive enough, to think that the mad sex we had was enough. You were everything to me, until I discovered that we didn’t have a relationship, we just had sex. I was your dirty little secret. We never talked; we never even broke up. You just drifted away, got engaged six months later. So let’s not pretend that what we had mattered to you, okay?”

  Facing him, she managed to say, shaking all over, her voice squeaking with emotion, “After we had sex in March, I thought we had plans for an actual date, but you called to say you were busy.”

  She had to stop, to catch her breath. It should have felt good to lay it all on him, how used she’d felt, how betrayed, but it didn’t, not when she saw the look on his face. Despite his marriage to Therese, Marcus wanted her; she knew it.

  He looked genuinely upset, tortured, even.

  Shaking his head, he took Cami’s hand, squeezed her fingers. ““I know I’ve made mistakes, Cami . .In March, after we made love, I told you there were things I wanted to tell you, important things that I needed to explain. We agreed that you’d come over,” he reminded her patiently, emphasizing the word agreed. “I made you dinner. You never showed.”

  “Because. . ”

  Because it had felt too good, being with him again, as if there might really be something between them.

  He’d wanted to talk, just to talk, to explain, he’d said.

  But she’d reminded herself of all that she’d lost, of what she might lose all over again if they started back up, if she heard what he had to say, if she forgave him, she got scared.

  What if it wasn’t enough?

  What if it was?

  Which was why, back in March, just talking had scared her to pieces.

  She’d been afraid of what might come next: her attraction to Marcus was still that powerful.

  Letting out a long breath, Cami managed the truth, “I was too scared. Whatever was coming, it didn’t feel like I could do it again, with you. I couldn’t risk. . everything I’d lost. When I didn’t have you in my life anymore. When you weren’t mine.”

  She didn’t like the pitch in her voice. She sounded emotional. She sounded hurt. And so . . .honest.

  Marcus pulled her closer, wrapped her in just one big arm. There, so close to his chest, despite the way the cool night air was teasing her skin, the crisp cotton dress shirt Marcus wore, the heat burned between them.

  He hadn’t released her hand; now he clasped her fingers, entangled them with his. As his palm touched hers, their hands locked, she felt it again, that very thing she’d spent the past three years trying to forget.

  Then his voice came hot in her ear, earnest, so intent. “There are things I need you to understand, Cami, even if it only means you aren’t so angry with me. But you wouldn’t return my calls or my emails and. . Dammit, can’t we talk, now? Will you hear me, finally?”

  But she’d stepped away, because she couldn’t stop moving, not now, couldn’t face him again, didn’t dare to see what might still be in his eyes; it might trick her into really believing that there had been more between them, that he did have feelings for her, that there might actually be some explanation for why he married Therese, other than the obvious.

  So she kept walking, until her hand tugged Marcus’s. He hadn’t let hers go, wouldn’t let it go. He took two big steps, caught her, pulled her close, back to his chest, the one she’d dared to want, to need, just moments before. “I’ve wanted to tell you how much you mean to me,” he said gently, his voice a caress, his lips brushing hers, then her cheeks, then her. . “God, how I care for you, darling Cami.”

  Gasping, Cami pulled away, tried to shake him off, needed to stay away from him.

  So she kept walking.

  “I understand that you’re still very angry with me darling, I do,” Marcus soothed, staying close, so much man, his shoulder brushing hers. “I know. . I know I’ve hurt you terribly, Cami, more than I’d ever imagined I would, when I married Therese. There’s more to it. Please, please, give me a chance to explain. It’s . . long overdue.”

  That there might be an explanation. . that there could be an explanation.

  How tempting it was.

  But if it was a lie, it would destroy her.

  How, after all this time, could she possibly believe what he might have to say?

  “No! You cannot imagine how much I do not want to hear this!” Cami hissed, snatching her keys from her purse, picking up her pace as she moved to her car.

  She wanted to smack him, do anything to erase that grieved look in his blue eyes.

  It had hurt so much, when it was over, when she found out about Therese. . .

  There can be no explanation!

  Nothing could take away her shame, her grief. .

  But Marcus stayed with her, eyes begging her for a chance to explain, still so sincere, so remorseful, so. . .It made her remember how he’d looked at her, when they’d made love, as if she really was the only woman for him.

  He obviously wasn’t picking up on the fact that she hated him now.

  Marcus’s composure, his apology, his perfect manners, that veneer of gentlemanly poise, which had once utterly charmed her, now pissed her off completely. Marcus was like an ad for a men’s magazine, one of those perfect, together guys with shiny white teeth and amazing smiles, clothed immaculately, nothing wrong with them, too good to be true.

  He’d married Therese, possibly for her money, then left her, Cami reminded herself. He was a sleaze. Marcus had absolutely no understanding of words like faithful and committed, what it might mean to be in love. . .Marcus was all about himself.

  Crossing the empty street, Cami angled towards her car.

  Arms at his side, handsome face etched with disappointment, remorse, torment, Marcus’s voice cut through the night, dark and intent.“Don’t go, Cami. Please, don’t. Not like this.”

  Clicking her car locks open, Cami grabbed the door handle, kicked her heels into her car, squeezed under the steering wheel, and fired the engine, not willing to spare even a moment for a good bye - What could I say? And how could I listen to whatever he has to say?

  She really mattered to him. Still. She knew it.

  It couldnt’ matter.

  She wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t let herself stay.

  Not now.

  She just couldn’t bear to be hurt again, by him.

  And that’s almost inevitable, isn’t it?

  Slamming the car door, Cami shoved her bare foot to the gas pedal, pulled away quickly, because if she stayed a moment longer, he might see the tears streaming down her face.

  Maybe it’s my turn to hurt you, then.

  She had to care for her horse’s ruined leg, now, anway.

  Her precious Heavenly.

  All of her dreams.

  Shattered.

  In bits.

  On her way to the barn, the tears continued to stream down Cami’s face, tears of confusion, tears of shame, tears of humiliation, tears of longing, and worst of all, tears because she was becoming afraid to even hope.

  Cami hated crying, and she was doing more of it lately than she ever had before.

  Sunday Funday

  “Because my life isn’t already insane enough?”

  Hungover, befuddled, angry, upset and exhausted, the only thing that got Cami out of bed at five am next morning was the knowledge that Heavenly needed her. Her stomach ached and her head pounded, but still, she made it to the barn, hosed and walked Heavenly, Stumpy faithfully waddling along next to her. They finished just as the sun was rising. In the peaceful quiet of early morning, Cami fed horses and checked waterers, dumped dry food in a bowl for Stumpy, cleaning and refilling his waterer.

  Then, content that her animals were all happy, in no mood to face Aliah, who would surely be spoiling for an interrogation, no matter how gently and blithely executed, she tossed a wool cooler on top of the hay bales she’d stacked in a cool, empty stall, stretched out, and closed her eyes.

  Hours late
r, the rumble of a truck’s big engine woke her, then she heard B’s voice in the aisle. “Cami? Cam!”

  “Just a sec, B!” Cami called. Swooping her long, unbrushed brown hair into a ponytail, finger combing out the bits of hay, she pulled her cap on, dusted the butt of her crummiest jeans, and stepped into the aisle, pulled the stall door closed behind her.

  “What’s this?” Cami asked, glancing the big white truck and trailer that had pulled in front of the open barn door.

  “You’ll never guess!” B said excitedly. “You’re getting six new horses!”

  Cami’s brow furrowed as her sour stomach took a tumble. She couldn’t commit to six new customers; she still hadn’t gotten an answer on where to send her barn rent. But with her vet bills, how could she turn them away?

  “Who-?”

  “My Aunt Therese!” Bianca exclaimed, her face beaming. “Aunt Therese is bringing her entire string of green competitive horses here by the end of the week, then maybe her retired horses, too. By Friday, all of her green jumpers are going to be at your barn, Cami,” Bianca said, obviously thrilled. “You’re going to school them, and maybe even show them!”

  I’m schooling horses for Therese Valdezzi? Because my life isn’t already insane enough?’

  Still, she had no reason to say no. It was paying work, and Therese Valdezzi owned talent; some of the world’s most talented jumpers belonged to her and her business partners. One had just competed at the Olympics in Rio, earning a silver medal.

  It would be an honor to school Therese Valdezzi’s young, green horses; the work could save Cami’s career, and her bank account.

  “Why?” was all Cami could manage.

  “Because my Dad and Aunt Therese just bought this farm, Cami!” B’s face beamed with excitement. “It’s ours! I mean, theirs, but ours, too! This property adjoins one of Dad’s properties. Knowing I love it here so much, and love you so much, he had a lawyer contact the owner and recruited Aunt Therese to partner with him! Guess who’s in the trailer? Sfumato! She wants you to start riding him!” B said in a rush.