by Jenna Mindel
Rose couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. “You bought it? But it’s big, like for a family.”
“It’s not that big, not compared to some. I got a great deal after the mortgage crisis rippled its way up here. It was too good an investment to pass up. I used to share it with my brother Matthew, but now that he’s married, it’s just me.”
“Mom, come here. Look at his boat!” Greg hollered from the driveway.
Rose trotted after her son.
“Isn’t this cool?” Greg ran his fingers along the side of a dark red boat with black slashes.
“That’s some paint job.” Rose scanned the area that was Cam’s home. The placement of the two-car garage with a high-peaked roof sporting a window on the second floor created privacy in the backyard where a deck had been built off the back of the house.
It was a beautiful property, a dreamy kind of place, and yet Cam had purchased it merely as an investment. This house wasn’t his home, but a future bank account. Another indication that Cam had no intention of settling down or sticking around.
He tapped the dark gray carpeted platform in the front of the boat. “Color’s called dark cherry. I had it repainted after removing sponsor stickers.”
So this was a professional fishing boat. It looked shiny and fast and the sides seemed awfully low to her. It’d be so easy to fall overboard. Toward the back were two deep seats, one behind a console with a steering wheel. Then a smaller platform stretched the back of the boat. A huge motor perched between two black poles finished off the end.
“What are those?” Rose pointed at the poles.
“Shallow water anchors. They’re hydraulic and pretty cool.”
“Wow.” Greg ran his hands up and down the metal. “How do they work?”
“Don’t touch, okay? We don’t want to break anything.” Rose might not know much when it came to fishing, but she knew expensive. Cam’s boat had to have cost a pretty penny.
“He’s fine. This thing’s tough as nails.” Cam turned to her son. “At the flip of a switch, these poles fold down into the water and act as anchors in depths up to eight feet. It’s great when I want to fish the shallows and not drift. Keeps the boat in place and stable.”
Greg’s eyes grew wide with wonder. “Where do you keep the fish?”
Cam climbed up into the boat using the trailer’s wheel well, then reached down for Greg. “Come up and I’ll show you.”
Before Rose could refuse, her son was in the boat with a king-of-the-hill look on his face. She shook her head when Cam offered her his hand. “No thank you, I’ll watch from here.”
Cam opened various storage compartments that were in the platform floor. Places for gear and a live well to keep the fish fresh. A third seat also popped up between the two. He clearly took pride in showcasing this boat, even to an eleven-year-old boy soon to be twelve.
Cam looked at her. “I’m going fishing tomorrow after work with my cousin Tommy. There’s room for Greg to go.”
“Mom, can I?” Greg’s excitement was palpable.
Rose could have clocked Cam for asking in front of her son. He knew she’d have a hard time refusing, but refuse she must. What if Greg fell over that low edge? “I don’t know.”
“Awww, come on, Mom...”
“Greg!” Rose snapped. “Let me think on it.”
Cam jumped out of the boat onto the pavement in front of her. “He’ll be perfectly safe wearing a life jacket.”
She glared at him. He didn’t play fair. “I said, I’ll think about it.”
Unrepentant, Cam grinned at her. “Don’t take too long.”
“Yeah, Mom.” Greg jumped down like Cam and the two headed for the house, talking fish and boat speeds. “Don’t take too long.”
Rose gritted her teeth and followed them inside.
Entering the house from the driveway, Rose walked into a mudroom that served as a laundry area. The interior was clean and tidy even with Cam’s jackets hanging on hooks and his boots lined up against one wall. A basket of folded clothes sat atop the dryer bathed in sunlight from an open window.
A galley-style kitchen came next with a cozy family room and eating area complete with a fireplace to the right. Windows ran along the far wall overlooking the backyard. The rest of the house lay to the left.
“Make yourselves at home and I’ll get the grill started.” Cam flashed her another one of his killer smiles and disappeared through a sliding glass door onto the back deck.
Rose didn’t need further prodding to check this place out. She headed left and scouted the rest of the downstairs. Cam’s home was simply furnished but clean. Window blinds replaced curtains and the walls had been painted a warm cream. So much potential here, and yet it was sort of sterile. The sign of a man who wasn’t home much.
“Mom, come here and look at this.”
Rose turned but didn’t see her son. “Where are you?”
“In here.” He stuck his head out of a side room.
“Don’t snoop.” Rose was drawn to whatever her son had found and entered the small den complete with a desk and computer and overstuffed love seat.
Her mouth dropped open when she spotted the trophies covering one wall. Big ones, little ones and plaques. Even a framed check stub. She stepped in for closer inspection— Whoa. The amount was a cool twenty-five thousand dollars. All of the bling belonged to Cam from various fishing tournaments all over the Midwest, Northeast and down South. They spanned several years, too. He hadn’t been kidding about the professional part. This little man cave showcased serious accomplishment.
“Ah, you found the trophy room.”
Rose jumped at the sound of Cam’s voice. “Pretty impressive.”
“You won all these?” Greg looked truly in awe of the man who had been known before only as the cool guy who made the best cheeseburgers.
Cam nodded. “You’re looking at over twenty years of competitive fishing. As many tournaments where I’ve placed well or won, there’s probably five times that where I didn’t.”
“How old were you when you started?” Rose asked.
“I was Greg’s age when I joined a local bass fishing club. Fishing kept me out of trouble for the most part.” Cam gently picked up a small plaque, running his finger over the brass plate bearing his name. “And thirteen when I won my first tournament.”
Rose read the longing in Cam’s eyes as he stared at that trophy, apparently lost in a fond memory. Then that blue gaze hardened with determination. He clearly wanted back out there. Bad.
“What about this one?” Greg pointed at a square trophy with a fish on top.
Cam chuckled, but his eyes glittered with something dark. Bad memory, or was that regret? “My first pro tournament win for a cash prize. The check on the wall.”
Greg spotted photo albums and reached for them. “Can I look at these?”
“Knock yourself out.” Cam pulled a few and handed them over to Greg.
Her son settled onto the love seat and thumbed through photos of Cam and other professional fishermen at tournaments. Everyone was dressed in gear splattered with brand names and advertisers. Sponsors.
The pressure of making a living at this had to be great and costly if the boat outside was any indication. Maybe that’s where sponsors came in, but he’d lost his.
“Is it common to lose sponsors?” The question fell out of her mouth before she realized how intrusive it sounded. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine.” Cam ran a hand through his already messy hair. “And yes, especially after low placements a few seasons in row. Some guys have the same sponsors for years, others switch up and garner more as they succeed in climbing to the top. I won a tournament a couple years ago and that boat out there was the prize.”
“Wow. Have you ever thought about doing something else?” Rose scanned the shelves of trop
hies. Was there anything he’d like better than the thrill of this kind of competition? Surely the stress was high with the pressure to perform well.
“No.” Cam chuckled, but it sounded more bitter than amused. “Not much else I’m good at.”
Rose stared at him. She didn’t believe that for a second. “You’re an excellent cook.”
“Speaking of which, the grill is no doubt ready for those steaks.” Cam nearly bolted for the kitchen.
Rose followed. “I can make a salad if you have the fixings.”
“I do.” Cam pulled out a drawer. “Knives are in here and cutting boards and big bowls in the cupboard below.”
“Okay.” Rose waited while Cam washed his hands at the sink, then called to her son while she did the same. “Greg, why don’t you bring those albums out here?”
“Awww, Mom.”
Cam glanced at her before heading outside with a platter of steaks and seasonings. “He’s fine in there till dinner. There’s nothing he can get into that he shouldn’t see.”
Rose nodded, but she looked in on Greg anyway. “Don’t touch anything but those photo albums, understand?”
Her son nodded but didn’t even look up from one of three albums on his lap.
Rose snuck a peek at the pages Greg had opened. Cam stood on a dock with his arm around another man and both were holding fish. Cam looked glorious with a wide smile and tousled hair gleaming in the sun. She’d love it if Cam stayed on as her cook, but really, what could she offer that beat what radiated from that picture?
Cam’s words echoed through her thoughts. Not much else I’m good at.
Greg looked up at her. “Can I please go fishing with Cam?”
Every boy deserves to fish. More of Cam’s words.
She looked at Greg. Her father had warned about smothering her son. He needed to stretch his wings. Someone once said where there’s little risk, there’s little gain, and Rose had played it safe for so long because of losing instead of gaining. She sighed. “Okay. You can go, but promise me you’ll wear a life jacket the whole time.”
He beamed at her and nodded. “Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.”
Her heart swelled to bursting. She leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “You are, too.”
He shrugged away and grabbed another photo album. “This is so cool.”
“Yup. Pretty cool.” Rose made her way back to the kitchen at the same time Cam returned from the back deck. Their gazes locked and held.
Rose felt like she’d jumped into the deep end. “I told Greg he can go with you tomorrow.”
Cam smiled. “Good call.”
She hoped so. She hoped she’d made the right decision.
Chapter Five
Cam scrubbed four big potatoes with a vengeance while Rose sliced tomatoes for the salad next to him. It didn’t matter where he stood or where she stood in this galley kitchen—she was much too close. Her presence filled the space right along with the delicious scent of her perfume.
Having Rose in his kitchen felt right somehow and that scared him. He didn’t have women over to cook.
While he’d chopped shallots and fresh tarragon, he’d noticed the slow, methodical way she sliced a tomato. She’d cut cucumbers the same way, as if she wasn’t used to doing this very often. “How can you be in the restaurant business and not know how to cook?”
Her cheeks flushed and she paused mid-slice. “As a kid, I had no interest in learning, so my mom didn’t teach me. In college I ate on campus or while on duty at the restaurant where I waitressed in the evenings.”
“Did Kurt cook?” If he was anything like his younger brothers, Rose was better off without him. Of course, now the guy was dead, but still.
Rose let loose a bitter snort. “He was on the road most of the time with music gigs. When he was home, we’d go out so he could be seen. After he left us, I moved back home to my mom’s cooking.”
Cam shook his head. “How’d you two meet?”
Rose dumped sliced carrots into the salad, then reached to rinse off her hands in the side of the sink he wasn’t using. Reaching for the towel, her arm brushed against his, sending a jolt of awareness straight to his toes.
She sighed. “He and his band played a couple of venues in Kalamazoo, and they frequented the restaurant where I worked. We met, he swept me off my feet and we eloped.”
Cam would never have guessed Rose Dean could do something that impulsive. “How old were you?”
“Eighteen. My parents were not happy, especially when we moved to Nashville so Kurt could pursue his country music career.”
“Is that where Greg was born?”
“Yup, seven months later.” She lowered her voice. “He was a big surprise. A tour bus was no place for a newborn and I jumped off the party train. I think Kurt resented that along with his responsibilities. He stayed away more often than not. Then he didn’t come home at all.”
He could read between what she said and didn’t say. The hard look in Rose’s eyes pretty much confirmed a husband gone astray. Hadn’t she said that Greg was only six the last time he’d seen his father? Kurt had blown off his family. His wife and young son, for what? Cam could easily guess. The guy had been a fool.
He tossed the cleaned potatoes in the microwave and hit the button for baked potatoes hard. “You didn’t remarry.”
“No. I dated a guy, but...” She looked away.
“But what?” Cam prodded.
She skewered him with a challenging stare, and her voice dropped again to a whisper. “Not many want a ready-made family.”
Greg. Hadn’t Cam thought something similar about taking on someone’s kids? Yeah, because of his own failures. Not because of anything wrong with them. Greg was a good kid.
He bent down and retrieved a saucepan, threw in a glob of butter and placed it on the stove. Turning the gas knob to low, he looked at her. “Can you stir this around till it’s melted? I’m going to flip the steaks.”
“Hurry back.” Panic raced across her face. “I mean, I don’t want to burn it.”
He chuckled and handed her the plate of shallots and tarragon. “Toss this in when it’s all melted. I’ll be right back.”
Rose bit down on her lower lip and nodded, never taking her eyes off the butter in the pan.
He hesitated, watching her a moment longer.
“Go. I think I got this.” Rose waved him away. She had no idea how tempting she looked.
Cam made a quick exit. He needed distance before he did something he shouldn’t, like trying to sweep her off her feet. On the deck, he lifted the grill and flipped the thick steaks, turning down the flame. They’d be done soon, somewhere between medium-rare and medium. Perfect.
Back inside, Rose hadn’t left her post. He watched her dump the onions and herbs into the butter. The rich aroma surrounded them and the sizzle made him think that he knew what those shallots felt like. He tossed in a small amount of vinegar followed by half a cup or so of white wine and increased the heat so it would reduce.
Rose looked up. “Smells good. What is it going to be?”
“Béarnaise sauce.”
She nodded. “I’ve never seen it made before.”
“You’re the one making it, sweet cheeks.” He grinned at the wide-eyed look she gave him.
“I can do without the name-calling.”
He laughed outright when he realized she was teasing him right back. “Keep stirring while I get the rest of the ingredients.”
Cam separated a couple eggs and beat the yolks in a small metal bowl and added heavy cream before setting it aside. He unwrapped two sticks of butter and tossed them into the pan. Once they melted, he turned off the heat completely.
“Now what?” Rose asks.
“Get ready to stir quickly while I pour this in.” He handed over a wire whisk and then drizzl
ed in the yolk mix, but Rose wasn’t whisking fast enough.
“No, no, like this.” With one hand around her back, he drizzled in the yolks, then placing his other hand over hers, he increased the pressure and speed of whisking. “It’s all in the wrist.”
She had little room to move and actually leaned into his chest as she sloughed off his hand, whisking furiously. “Like this?”
This close, he couldn’t help it. He inhaled near her neck, practically touching his nose to her skin. “Man, you smell good.”
The whisk flipped out of Rose’s hand, splattering butter sauce in every direction before hitting the floor. She jumped aside, knocking the metal bowl out of his hand into the pan of béarnaise sauce.
Cam thought it funny until he saw the dismay in her eyes. He immediately backed up and raised his hands in surrender. “Rose, I’m sorry.”
Those sweet cheeks of hers blazed red-hot. She uttered an awkward chuckle, picked up the whisk and rinsed it off. “No, I’m sorry. I haven’t, I mean, it’s been a while and, well, you’re an attractive man.”
Cam was glad she didn’t look at him. It gave him time to control the desire to wrap his arms around her. Slipping into his safety zone, Cam flirted instead. “So, you think I’m easy on the eyes, huh?”
Rose laughed, tension eased. “I said attractive.”
He winked. “I know what you meant.”
She shook her head. “Shouldn’t you check the steaks?”
“Yeah, and you can get that bowl out of our béarnaise sauce and whisk it while I’m gone.”
“Aye, aye, Chef.”
Cam exited through the open slider. He’d never thought himself a chef before. He cooked. Lifting the grill lid, he decided the steaks looked a little overdone, more toward medium.
He blew out his breath as he switched off the gas. He felt a little singed around the edges, too. No matter how attracted he might be to Rose, she wasn’t a woman to be kissed and discarded. Cam didn’t want to be another one of those men in her life.
Besides, there was Greg to consider. He deserved a stand-up father figure. Cam wasn’t ready for marriage and a family. He had few skills outside of fishing and that career had been tainted by cheating. These were certainly not the actions he’d want a kid he cared about to imitate or even know about.
