by Nella Tyler
Walking out, I smoothed my hands down my pants, and my heart skipped a beat when I spotted Cammie. She’d neatly lined up stacks of paper on my counter and was tapping her fingers across each of them, as though double checking them. Or, from what I’d could tell from last night, quintuple checking them.
As she leaned down, I watched the arch of her neck. It was like the stroke of a master calligrapher. Swallowing even harder, I shoved those thoughts away and bounded into the kitchen.
“How does some penne pasta and sautéed spinach sound?” I asked, hoping that she’d go for it. Also on the list of things I’d forgotten to do was food shopping.
Cammie’s eyes danced. “Is that what you’re in the mood for or all you have?”
I laughed, then put a hand over my heart. “Would it be okay if I said both?”
She glanced around the living area, strewn with boxes. “More than okay. Kris, are you moving in or out? What is all this? And do you need help with it?”
That was one of the things I’d noticed about Cammie. One of the many things that kept pulling me in closer and closer to her. Not only was she observant and intelligent, she was impossibly genuine. Her instinct was always to help.
There was a bone-deep sweetness to this girl that I wanted to revel in. To taste.
Then I blinked, shaking my head. Taste? Geez, I needed sleep. Or coffee. And beer. I couldn’t be thinking things like that. I’d already pushed Cammie far enough outside of her comfort zone.
Am I doing this on purpose? I suddenly wondered.
I’d been so lost in thought, I hadn’t responded. Cammie’s hands fluttered nervously towards her throat, and she said, “Kris, I apologize. I shouldn’t pry.”
“Pry away. The papers are from my father’s house – estate things. I’m looking for something. The man may have been an urbane and creative genius, but he’d push his glasses up on his head and then look for them for an hour before realizing. Expecting his things to be anything but disorderly was pure fantasy on my and Max’s part. But a man can dream.”
“Estate?” Cammie puzzled, then her eyes became round and sad. “Oh, Kris, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. That’s what you meant…” She trailed off, biting her lip.
“What I meant?” I asked, leaning across the counter. “And thank you.”
“You said something last night that puzzled me – about the luck of the draw with your business.” Cammie blew out a breath and tugged on her pigtails. “I thought it was strange that someone so accomplished thought so little… But I see now.” Her gaze was steady on mine. “I know I haven’t known you very long, but I think your father would be proud of you, Kris.”
It was like someone had seized my heart and throat. Cammie’s words, her gentle tone hit something deep inside of me that made want to hold onto her and never let go. To find comfort and wisdom in her arms.
A shaky breath exuded from me as I smiled at her. “Thank you.”
I turned to the stove, intent on cooking. A strange thought crossed my mind, sounding almost like a warning. If you’re not careful, this girl is going to keep coming from out of left field.
You’re not gonna know what hit you, Boldin.
Glancing back at Cammie after I put the water on to boil, I wondered at myself. Where had that come from? Since when did I need to watch my step? It wasn’t like this soft-spoken, quiet little realtor, no matter how pretty she was, would ever become anything more, right?
But my thoughts seemed as disorderly as my apartment. It wasn’t until I finished pulling everything out that realized I hadn’t even offered her a drink. Yanking out a bottle of red, I dumped her glass while apologizing profusely. She eyed me amusedly, and I wanted to put my head through a wall.
“What is wrong with me today?” I muttered out loud without meaning to.
“I think you’re biting off way more than you can chew.” Suddenly Cammie was next to me, smiling up at me. She was wearing pink socks, I noted, and she was nearly a foot shorter than me without shoes. “Trust me, I’m familiar with the symptoms. Here, let me help.” Giving in, I agreed to let Cammie keep an eye on the spinach. Then she asked, “So what is it you’re looking for?”
Standing this close, I could smell her gardenia perfume and that unique, pretty Cammie scent. Glad for the distraction, I answered, “A code.” Then I proceeded to explain about the safe and the ideas. And without meaning to, I kept going. I spilled it all. Losing my father, the documentary hang-ups, the problems at work and the avalanche of business needs piling up on me. Along with the untenable, impossible requirement of living up to Lukas Boldin’s legacy. “At least yesterday I managed to impress upon them I wouldn’t go down without a fight,” I finished bitterly.
Spooning the spinach into a serving bowl, Cammie turned to me and gave me a serious, but feisty look. “I don’t think you’re going to go down at all. From what you’ve told me about your dad and you, you’re more than qualified to run this business.”
“But I never did that before, Cam,” I said, a tinge of desperation in my voice. “I’m not like my dad. I’m not creative and inspiring like he was.”
“I think the pasta is done,” Cammie said in response, then she brought the spinach over to the counter and leaned her back against it. “And you’re wrong, Kris. You are creative – you’re good with words, you well-read, well-traveled. Yes, you didn’t go to film school or study under that famous guy like your Dad. But lots of people go to school for things and don’t even end up in that field. Or they don’t even go to school – like your Dad. Everyone has to start somewhere.” She paused. “You’ll get there. And even if you don’t get quite to where you want to be, as long as you work hard, you’ll end up where you need to be. ‘Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.’”
I opened my mouth to make a retort, then closed it. The force of her words, the steeliness in her gaze – she didn’t deserve any wisecracks. “This comes from experience,” I observed. “I can tell.”
She shrugged. “People like to tell you what you can’t do more than they like to tell you what you can do. I’m not sure if it’s worry for your comfort or worry for their ego, but it can be disheartening. All you can do is keep your head down and ignore them.”
“My dad wasn’t like that,” I said, smiling a little. “He’d be the first person to challenge any kind of dissent or tell someone they could do anything. It’s probably why he has so many characters working for him.”
“Maybe they miss that,” Cammie said softly. “I know I do.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked immediately, putting down the pasta I’d just drained.
“Oh, that… It’s nothing.” She twisted her fingers into her hair. “You want me to bring over the plates?”
“I got them,” I said, carrying over the pasta and plates. It took all my willpower not to press her on that remark. Last night I’d noticed how she carefully sketched out her past, giving me a pretty good outline, but no color. Nothing intimate.
Once we were sitting down, more or less across from each other, me on one side of the bar corner, Cammie on the other, I said in my most persuasive voice, “I’d love to know more about you and how you came to possess all this wisdom, Ms. Book.”
Her lashes were long on her cheeks as she looked down. “It’s not very interesting.”
“You know, my dad had a lot of theories about what constituted ‘interesting’ in this world. A lot of people think that means splashes of color or explosions or robots, but he said what it really means is human. Genuine. Something that takes your breath away because it’s someone experience. It actually happened.” I laughed a little, feeling self-conscious. “Sorry, carried away. Again.”
When Cammie looked up at me, there was a light in her eyes. “Kris, see, you and your words. It’s incredible. You are going to make incredible documentaries.”
“The first one my dad ever made was about my grandfather; did you know that?” I asked.
She nod
ded. “About the shoes and his journey, yes.” Propping up her chin, she gave me a measured look. “I lost my Dad when I was eleven. Suddenly it was just me, my three little brothers and my mother scrambling to make ends meet. In Cropwell, Alabama, a tiny town that doesn’t even exist on most maps – it’s just listed as Pell City.” Her accent became stronger, twanging harder along the syllables, but her voice was full of a quiet endurance. “As you can probably guess, there weren’t a lot of options for a single mother with four kids. It was tough.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, suddenly feeling like an overgrown idiot with hands and feet too big for his body. “I can’t even imagine…”
“Thank you.” She let out a long sigh. “I just wanted to – I don’t know you shared something with me, I wanted to tell you something in return. I wish I could tell you something more helpful than this – but take it day by day. And talk to people. Lean on your friends.” She paused. “But I meant it when I said you can do it. All my life people have always said I couldn’t do this or that. I was too shy, I wasn’t educated enough, blah blah blah.” There was a hard note in Cammie’s voice that surprised and impressed me. “I mean, there were some bad years – but we got through. We spent three years on food stamps – only eating because of the government.
“My mom, though – it used to break her heart. She’d say there were people who needed it more than her, but we had no choice. We were in that boat, and it was sinking fast. But once I was old enough, I could chip in, and then my mom got a really good job. And we did it. Things aren’t perfect now, but it doesn’t feel like waking up with a noose around your neck every day.”
Cammie continued on, her gaze distant, as she told me about how her mom and she managed to set up savings for her brothers’ education, how she decided not to go to college, how she moved to Birmingham on her own and pursued a realtor’s license.
I was blown away.
I pushed my bowl aside and laid my head down on my folded arms, staring up at her. “You’re a wonder, you know that, right?”
Blinking, Cammie looked at me and seemed to realize she’d been talking for a good twenty minutes. Shaking her head quickly, she laughed, “Oh no, just did what I had to do. But I get it, Kris; that’s all I was trying to say. When your back is up against the wall and a hole has been torn in your life at the same time, it can feel like you’re falling and you’ll never stop. That every choice is the wrong choice. That every failure is the be-all, end-all. It’s not, though.”
“Eighth wonder of the world, right here in my kitchen,” I murmured and without thinking, I reached out and tugged on her pigtail. “Thank you, Cammie. Thank you for telling me that. I know you’re not big on baring your soul.”
“No, I don’t… It’s fine.” She hunched her shoulders. “Okay, how did you know?”
“Just the artful way you skimped on details last night. Most people want to paint a masterpiece of their lives. You were content to just hand me a notecard with a bulleted list,” I teased.
“Well, I didn’t think I could stack up to the panorama of Kris Boldin,” she said, flipping her pigtails back and getting up. Picking up her plate, she walked to the sink.
“It is quite a show, I’ll admit,” I stand, standing up and grabbing my plate. “But for all that, I don’t think it measures up to Cammie Book in the slightest.” I placed my plate down and watched her as she began to wash dishes without even being asked. A bittersweet longing poured through me. “I don’t even feel like you should waste your sympathy on me.”
“Kris, don’t be all poor me, you’re better than that.” She gave me a sassy look over her shoulder, then smiled that sweet, slow smile of hers. “You’re far too hard on yourself.”
“It’s nice to have someone like you care, Cammie,” I said, the words rushing out of me before I could think. “It makes me feel like I’m, I don’t know, a better man. Or on my way to becoming one. I don’t mean this to sound contrite – but you’re a refreshing person. Water in the desert or a rainbow after a storm. Beauty and kindness.” I paused, a quotation from an old book coming to my mind. “‘Each time you happen to me all over again.’”
As I spoke, Cammie had turned around, clutching a dish towel in her wet fingers and gazing at me in a mixture of awe and shock. “Did you–? Do you know Edith Wharton? Oh, of course you do.” Then she flushed, clearing her throat and let out a nervous laugh. “Kris, I think you had too much wine,” she said firmly, turning back to the sink. “Hand me that plate, would you?”
Picking up the plate, I held it out, saying at the same time, in a neutral voice, even as a rush of fire went through my veins, “Cammie, I haven’t had a single thing to drink.”
Her lips parted, and her eyes met mine, our fingers brushing against each other. Sparks spiraled from just that touch and Cammie jumped.
Distantly I heard the plate crash to the floor, but I was too busy moving forward, as Cammie took over all my senses. Leaning down, I planted my mouth across her lips while picking her up at the same time and setting her on the counter.
At first, I hesitated, wondering if I’d lost my mind, but Cammie was gripping my shirt, kissing me back. And a diabolical, satisfied chuckled rumbled out of me.
She tasted as sweet as I thought she would, but far, far more intoxicating. And she was so petite that even on the counter, I was leaning down. One of my hands roamed up and down her back, making her arch against me, while I cupped her cheek with the other.
“Too many clothes,” I grunted between kisses and Cammie squeaked in surprise as I clumsily fumbled at the buttons on her top. But then her mouth opened and I lost track of what I was doing as our tongues stroked against each other.
I’d never lost control like this, been so lost in a kiss, but I couldn’t stop.
Logic evaporated.
All that mattered was each second and then the next, rushing together in a fever.
Pulling her closer, I gripped her tightly as our kiss became desperate. Her soft breasts were rubbing against my chest, and my pants started to get uncomfortably tight. And Cammie kept urging me on, driving me wilder with each touch. Her hands were in my hair, her legs locking around my waist and I groaned, bucking against her without even meaning to.
Then when we broke apart, panting for air, and I stared down at her. One of her pigtails was undone, her shirt half-unbuttoned, lips swollen from kissing and her eyes bright.
Damn, I’d all but mauled the woman.
Suddenly her hands were kneading the back of my neck. “You’re too tense,” she murmured.
“Cammie, you’re killing me,” I groaned, then leaned in so that our forehead were touching. Gazing at her, I rasped out, “Do you… Is this okay? I can’t pretend I don’t want this, want you, I mean fuck, I’m losing my mind here, but…” In my pants, I could feel my cock twitching in agony.
Looking up at me, Cammie’s hazel eyes had a fiery, brilliant look. “Yes, it’s okay. More than okay. Now, come here, Kris. Please.”
Chapter 14
Cammie
I knew Kris Boldin had quite a mouth on him, but I had not given him his proper due.
As he smirked at me, then pressed a kiss to the side of my jaw, right below my ear, I let out a startled gasp. He was moving down my neck, and my head fell back, my breath shallow and panting.
“Oh God, Kris. That is not fair,” I murmured.
He laughed against my collarbone, before biting it lightly and then meeting my eyes again. The blue of his gaze was so intense, a shiver shot up and down my spine. “Talk the talk and walk the walk, is that what you’re trying to say?” He teased, then kissed the corners of my mouth, before breathing in my ear. “I have a whole lot of ‘not fair’ to get through.”
“Do you now?” I asked breathlessly as I clung to him and leaned back a little.
“Fuck, you are too adorable and sexy for your own good. I knew it from the moment I saw you.” His hands were working on my shirt again, and then he was tugging it free.
Without even realizing what I was doing, I tugged on his shirt, and he swept it off. I sucked in a breath at his hard chest, the rigid musculature of his abs and his biceps. Suddenly I felt shy and unsure, biting my lip, but Kris picked up my hand, pressing a kiss to the underside of my wrist.
Shyness and every other thought flew out of my head. His scruff contrasted with the warmth and softness of his expert lips. When he kissed my shoulder, I shivered and moaned.
Strong, deft fingertips stroked up and down my back, then my bra was being swept off. Before I could even register it, Kris was leaning me back, his mouth working one nipple, while his index and thumb rolled the other. Arching up, I cried out, incoherent in this bliss. The cold of the counter couldn’t even touch the heat building between us.
Suddenly he switched, and a helpless little mewl escaped me. Heat rose in my cheeks. I’d never made a sound like that before. “Oh, God, Kris, oh!” I cried out and gripped his hair.
His handsome face appeared above me, and I watched as he gently touched my cheek. “Damn, you’re responsive. If I wasn’t turned on before…” He winked at me and vanished.
Then his lips were skimming the waist of my jeans and his fingers working the buttons. I shuddered, anticipation and pleasure coursing through me as cold air touched my legs. My panties followed my jeans, and I realized distantly, I am naked on Kris Boldin’s counter.
And I don’t want to be anywhere else.
A breathy moan escaped me as Kris kissed my ankle, then the inside of my knee and then higher. I jumped, staring at him and he gave me a crooked smile
Pulling me to a seated position, he gazed at me and shook his head. “No guy has ever gone down on you before, huh?” The blue in his eyes seemed to glow with a wicked, satisfied light.
Biting my lip, I shook my head, and Kris tugged my other pigtail free. Running his hands through my curls, he pressed a bruising kiss to my lips.
“Good,” he said. “Now I can spoil you the way should be.” Trailing kisses down my stomach, he chuckled and winked up at me. “I didn’t realize I’d be having dessert tonight.”
