Editor's Choice Volume I - Slow summer Kisses, Kilts & kraken, Negotiating point (23 page)

“Staying between the trees is good enough.”

“I can’t keep the speed steady. I speed up and then I think I’m going too fast so I slow down and then I speed up.”

“I don’t have whiplash, so it could be worse.”

“I’m not good at this.”

She sounded close to tears, which surprised the hell out of him. “You’ve only been doing it a few minutes. Do you usually excel at something the first time you do it?”

“Yes.”

“So this you have to practice. You heard me tell you you’re doing great, right?”

“But I know there’s a stop sign coming. And then I’ll have to turn.”

“Maybe I should put you on my lap and you can steer while I do the pedals,” he joked, trying to make her laugh.

She turned to face him, a funny expression on her face. It reminded him of the look she’d had when he caught her watching him earlier. And the look she’d given him in the shed, when he was desperately hoping she couldn’t tell he wanted her to trip and end up in his arms just so he could see how she felt there.

“I should take you up on that,” she said, “just to make you squirm.”

Oh, he’d definitely squirm if she was on his lap. As a matter of fact, if they continued down this conversational path, he’d be squirming anyway. “Just drive a little farther. If you’re not comfortable by the time we reach the tarred roads, I’ll take over.”

She finally took her foot off the brake and got going again. He got her through the first intersection, which put them on a wider, better maintained dirt road and then through the four-way intersection with the paved road that passed for town. A few miles later, she let him know she wasn’t comfortable with the forty mph speed limit and he found a place for her to pull over.

After getting out to switch places, they crossed paths in front of the idling truck and she stopped him by putting her hand on his arm. “Thank you, Cam.”

That one little spot of contact made the hunger for her he’d been denying roar to life and it was all he could do just to nod. “Just being neighborly.”

He paused before opening his door to take advantage of the fact she was busy adjusting her seatbelt and do some adjusting of his own, but it didn’t help. With his jeans crushing an erection that wouldn’t die, he barely drove any better than she did.

Chapter Four

Anna really wished Cam would stop walking next to her and walk in front of her just so she could have the pleasure of ramming her shopping cart into the back of his legs. He’d seemed normal—almost friendly, even—for a while, but now he was in full grump mode again. And he was getting worse by the second.

“What do you think of these?” she asked, stopping to look at some cheerful yellow flowers. The sign on the front of the shelf read Coreopsis. They were perennials and she didn’t think they were meant for planting in containers, but she liked them.

“They’re flowers. Just like all the other flowers you’ve been looking at for the last hour.”

She picked up two buckets and added them to her cart. The yellow mixing in with the blues and pinks she already had probably would have cheered her up if she was in better company. “I need some petunias. I’m not sure what they are, exactly, but the article I read said they’re good for container gardening.”

He sighed and, if she wasn’t mistaken, ground his teeth. Ignoring him, she moved the cart along, scanning the shelves for any blossoms that caught her eyes. Cam stayed beside her the whole time like an angry, somewhat disapproving bodyguard.

“You know,” she said conversationally, “if you didn’t want to come, you should haven’t offered me a ride.”

“It’s fine.”

“Then what’s your problem? Did you see that mom back there? She saw your ogre face and gathered her children close as we passed by.”

“You don’t seem to be afraid of me, so it can’t be too bad of an ogre face.”

“That’s because I’m distracting myself with fantasies of running my cart up the back of your feet.”

He gave her a startled look and she wondered what his expression would look like if he knew about the other fantasies she’d had about him. “I had no idea you were so violent. But, if you hurt me, you have to drive home.”

Good point. “You’re trying to change the subject. You were fine earlier, so why so cranky now?”

“Because you’re a pain in the ass.”

“And, again, this was
your
idea.”

“Not the shopping. It’s—”

She waited, but he didn’t finish the thought. “It’s what?”

“Nothing. You almost done with the flowers? I can already tell it’s going to take you three hours to find just the right shade of white paint.”

“It’s not white. Maybe eggshell. Although, I think it’s creamier than that.” She pushed the cart out the gardening section, pondering anything she might need that wasn’t on her list. “Do you think I should buy a lawn mower? Gramps’s riding mower’s in the shed, but I don’t know how to use that and it might not even run for all I know.”

“I mow the lawn. I have for years.”

“That makes sense. Otherwise it would have been a jungle back there, I guess.”

She bit down on the urge to babble any further and made her way toward the paint in silence, with Mr. Tall, Dark and Brooding staying right with her. For some reason, his silences were never really comfortable and she felt driven to fill them.

She wished he didn’t smell so good. It was hard to focus on the shopping and his renewed crappy attitude when he smelled all fresh and clean and a little spicy from his shower. It hadn’t helped her concentrate on driving any, either, though she hadn’t wanted to confess that at the time.

Cam stopped in front of the paint samples and groaned. “There has to be a hundred shades of white here.”

But Anna figured she’d tortured him long enough and zeroed in on the shade that matched what Gram had chosen years before almost immediately. While Cam got the paint mixed, she found the brushes and some mineral spirits and they were good to go.

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” she said, smiling up at Cam.

When he stood there, staring at her mouth, she realized how close together they were and, when his gaze shifted from her mouth to her eyes, she could see his intent seconds before his mouth touched hers. The kiss surprised her and her lips parted as his tongue lightly flicked over them. But before she even had time to relax and enjoy the moment, it was over.

Because, oh yeah, they were in Home Depot. She blinked at him, not particularly surprised to see his ogre face was back. She didn’t care if his attitude went sour now. It was totally worth it.

“I didn’t want to do that,” he said, and she wondered how hard it was to talk with a clenched jaw.

“Because I’m a pain in the ass?”

“Exactly.”

Despite her best effort to keep a straight face, she smiled. “Should I apologize?”

His dark gaze drifted back to her mouth before he took a step back. “Should I?”

No, she wanted to tell him. She wanted him to stop talking and kiss her again, fellow shoppers be damned. “I think it’s pretty funny you don’t feel a need to apologize for being rude or calling me a pain in the ass, but you think I might be offended by a kiss.”

“Fine.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back. “It won’t happen again.”

Oh, it would. She’d make sure of that.

* * *

So, Jim, about keeping an eye on your granddaughter…instead of killing her, I kissed her in Home Depot. Sorry about that.
Cam stared blankly at the menu in his hand, his mind on everything but the food choices. He’d kissed her. In the paint section of a home-improvement warehouse, no less. Classy.

“I’m having a cheeseburger,” Anna said. “With fries smothered in vinegar and salt.”

“I told you I wouldn’t kiss you again. You don’t have to poison your mouth.”

“Very funny. What are you having?”

“Something with onions and garlic.”

Her laugh went a long way toward easing the awkwardness he felt and he relaxed into the booth. He ended up ordering the chicken fried steak with fries, hold the vinegar, and a soda, then sat back and wondered what they were going to talk about until the food came and gave their mouths something to do.

“How’s your mom doing?” Anna asked while stirring cream and sugar into her decaf.

“She’s good. Retired now and debating on whether or not she wants to move to Florida. All of her friends are talking about it, but I think she’d hate it there.”

“Do you see her often?”

“Every couple months or so. I think she’s busier now than before she retired. Every time I call she’s running off to do something with somebody.”

Anna stopped dragging the spoon around the mug, thankfully, and looked at him. “I was sorry to hear about your dad. He was a really nice guy.”

“I saw the card you sent Mom. We appreciated that.” He took a sip of his soda because his mouth felt a little dry all of a sudden. “He worked himself to death trying to get ahead. Hell, screw getting ahead. He worked himself to death just trying to keep up.”

“Is that when you moved to the lake full time?”

“It was after that but, yes, it was a bit of a wake-up call to me that I was on the same path.”

She smiled, but it was a sad one and he didn’t like the way it looked on her. “I’m pretty familiar with that path.”

“Maybe losing your job was a blessing in disguise. You’re doing a little better at relaxing. Not a lot, but a little.”

“But it’s temporary. I’m damn good at what I do and some company’s going to want me. Then I’ll be back on the path, but running even faster to catch up.”

That conversation was only going depressing places, so he went for the distraction. “What’s next on your to-do list?”

“Which one?”

“You have more than one to-do list?”

“Of course. They’re categorized.” He rolled his eyes, making her laugh again. Laughing was a lot better than listening to her plans for jumping back in the career gerbil wheel. “Let me guess, you don’t even have one to-do list.”

“Nope. I have a calendar on the wall so I can keep track of what day it is and sometimes I’ll jot down an appointment if it’s far enough out I might forget it. Otherwise I pretty much do things as they come up.”

“You don’t have enough to do, then.” He wasn’t sure if she was kidding or not, so he ignored the comment in favor of his soda. “Oh, did I tell you I’m going to the next knitting club meeting at the library? UPS delivered the yarn and the needles I ordered, so all I need is the bicycle and I’ll be in good shape.”

“I’ll make sure you can ride it,” he promised, which was stupid because he didn’t intend to kiss her again and the only way he could guarantee that was to keep his distance. Maybe he could drag Betty’s old bike to his yard and work on it there while she did the other who-knew-how-many things on her lists. “If not, I’ll give you a ride.”

“Thanks. I’m pretty excited about it. I’ll learn to knit
and
meet new people.”

She rambled on about yarns and needles and whatnot, but he only half listened. Mostly he watched her lips move and wished they hadn’t been in the middle of a store the first time he kissed her. Sure, the location was probably a good thing because it kept them from doing something stupid, like going any further. But it hadn’t been enough. He wanted to kiss her until they were both out of breath and weak in the knees.

The waitress arrived with their food, bringing an end to both the knitting monologue and his thoughts of what they might have done had the setting been more private. Anna put enough vinegar on her fries to make his nose tingle, sprinkled salt over the mess and then doused it with more vinegar.

“Your blood pressure and stomach won’t thank you for that.”

She shrugged and popped a fry into her mouth. The little moaning sound she made as she chewed should have been illegal in public. “It’s a splurge. I don’t do this very often.”

This time it was Cam who laughed. “Don’t forget who took you shopping. Corn chips aren’t a vegetable, you know.”

“Vacation,” she argued, waving a French fry at him. “I’m supposed to eat junk when I’m on vacation.”

He wondered if the many references to the fact her presence on the lake were figments of his imagination, or subtle, post-kiss reminders she wasn’t sticking around very long.

It wasn’t something he was likely to forget.

* * *

“
Honey, the point of knitting is to relax, not snap the needles in half.”

Anna looked down at the project she was strangling and made a conscious effort to relax her hands. She was calling it a project rather than a scarf because the word
project
was vague and didn’t come with expectations as to appearance. The thing in her hands didn’t look like a scarf.

“Maybe you should have a drink before you knit,” the other woman suggested. “Or some Valium if you can get them.”

Only two women had shown up for knitting club that day, but they’d both been ecstatic to take on the task of teaching her to knit. Pearl, who’d admonished her not to snap the needles in half, was in her sixties, Anna guessed, while Margaret was a little younger and they both seemed to have the patience of saints. Of course, there was an ever-increasing possibility Margaret’s laid-back personality was chemically enhanced.

Anna laughed. “I’ll put that on my calendar.
Get wasted for knitting club.
”

“You’re very tense,” Pearl told her. “That’s why you’re having so much trouble. Your stitches are so tight you can’t get your needles into them. The more tense you are, the more frustrating it’ll be…and then you’ll get even more tense.”

Sighing, Anna returned to her project, consciously trying to keep her hands relaxed. She’d pictured herself serenely creating a beautiful knit shawl she’d drape over her shoulders when the air cooled at night. The reality was a lumpy, bunched-up strip of stitches that looked like they’d been knitted by somebody impaired by multiple preknitting drinks.

Unfortunately, neither a Valium nor a couple of hours knitting was going to relax Anna’s tension away. It was the kind of tension wanting a man caused and only having the man could cure. The man in question, however, seemed determined not to be had.

There was no doubt in Anna’s mind Cam Mayfield was avoiding her. He’d barely said two words to her since fixing up Gram’s bike and the only way she could live next door to the man and not see him at all for several days was if he was deliberately dodging her. Which was silly. It was just a kiss.

While she hadn’t actually written it on a piece of paper, getting Cam to kiss her again was at the top of her master to-do list. And not in public this time. She wanted him to kiss her in a place where nobody was watching and, if hands should start to roam and clothes should start to come off, there’d be nothing to stop them.

Realizing she’d spent the last few minutes trying to shove the tip of her needle through a stitch pulled so tightly she was surprised the strand didn’t break, Anna set the project in her lap and relaxed her hands. There was a possibility she might actually get a blister or two out of the endeavor.

“You’ll keep practicing at home, right, and come back next week?” Pearl asked, and Anna looked at the clock over the circulation desk, startled to realize it was time to wrap things up.

“Of course. I appreciate you helping me so much. I’ll work on not killing the needles for next time.”

“Remember,” Margaret whispered, “a nice, stiff drink before knitting will help with that.”

Or a screaming orgasm, though Anna opted not to say so. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

It was a beautiful afternoon and she was actually looking forward to pedaling Gram’s bike home. There was one little uphill stretch that might kill her, but the ride
to
the library had been rejuvenating. She tucked her knitting away in the basket Cam had dug up from somewhere, then pushed off.

By the time she made it to her driveway, she hated the bike—especially the seat, hated every weak muscle in her body and hated the outdoors. It wasn’t anything like riding the stationary bike at the gym. There were no ruts in the gym, for one thing. At least she’d stopped thinking about sex. All she wanted now was a cool shower, some ibuprofen for the headache she was blaming on the stupid helmet, and some iced tea.

After setting the bike on its kickstand and retrieving her knitting, she hobbled toward the front porch. About halfway there she heard Cam’s laughter and made a rude gesture in the general direction of his house.