“Hey, Adam.” Camille’s voice calls from the kitchen entryway. After Ricky fixed the furnace, my crew and I spent the past two days setting up a temporary kitchen for her in the neighboring dining room. Today we’re demolishing the kitchen, and tomorrow we’ll tear down the wall that separates the two spaces.
I’m dressed in an old pair of jeans, a stained t-shirt, and a flannel filled with holes from years of construction work. I’m already covered in dirt and sweating from manual labor. I don’t look my best, but when Camille’s eyes land on me, they darken. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, and I could’ve sworn she sucked in a breath. She looks at me like I’m the best thing she’s seen all week. Maybe she does want more from me than just a renovation.
Dammit. It doesn’t help my problem one bit when she looks at me like she wants a repeat of that kiss just as much as I do. I swallow hard and push those thoughts out of my mind. She may desire me too, but she isn’t ready for what I have to offer.
Not yet, at least.
“Whatcha need?” I ask.
She shifts her eyes from me and to the plans she’s holding in her hand. “Is it too late to change the faucets in the spare bathrooms? I’ve decided I prefer the copper faucets after all. Have you ordered those yet?”
“I haven’t.” I clear my throat. “I was waiting until you made the decision about the kitchen faucets first. I’ll place that order together.”
“Oh, good.” She shifts on her feet, nibbling at her bottom lip as she stares at the plans. My lips tugs up from seeing she’s nervous around me. This is the most she’s given me all week. I shouldn’t take pleasure in knowing she struggles with being around me. But I do. It makes me feel a little bit better knowing she wants me even if she doesn’t act on it.
“You sure you don’t want the antique bronze?” She’d been adamant about maintaining as much of the original design of the house as possible, and the faucets were one of those features.
“I’m sure. I like the farmhouse feel of the copper so much better. I’d like it in the kitchen as well. I made note of the ones I like.”
“Okay, I’ll make that change.” I pull a small notepad I keep in my back pocket out and add her changes. When I look up, Camille is staring at me. My chest tightens and my mouth dries. “Anything else?”
She shakes her head, but she doesn’t make a move to leave. She’s done this a few times this week. Acts like there’s something she wants to say, but then she stands there, silent. This has to be hard for her, but she’s sending me all sorts of mixed messages. I sense she wants me at times like this, but she never says anything and then reverts back to acting like nothing happened.
Desperate to dissipate the tension between us, I ask, “Have you made any decisions about the master bathroom yet?”
She sighs, looking visibly relieved that I take the attention off us. “No. I really have no idea which direction I want to gowith it. I have lots of ideas I love, but none of them go together. Can I give you the notes I have? Maybe you can offer some suggestions?”
“Sure, I’d love to.”
“Great.” Her face lights up, and she gives me a big smile. “I’ll get those together for you today.”
Jesus, what I wouldn’t do to see that smile more often. If we can move past the awkwardness of that kiss, maybe she’ll smile more. All I have to do is figure out how to set aside my desire for her and put myself back in contractor mode.
If only that was as easy as it sounds.
Demolition ismy favorite part of a home renovation. There’s something to be said about freely destroying something with purpose. Sure, it’s labor intensive and always leaves my body aching, but it’s fast and invigorating.
We have a clean slate, and we’re ready to turn this kitchen design into reality.
I haven’t seen Camille since our awkward exchange this morning. She’s been eating lunch with the crew—she says she likes getting to know those who are making her home beautiful—but today she had some errands to run and would be eating lunch in town.
In some respects, I’m more relaxed when she’s not there, and in others it’s worse. Seeing her and knowing I can’t touch her, kiss her, hold her is its own form of torture. But her absence makes it impossible for me to think about anything other than her.
How did I get so wrapped up in this woman so fast? It’s been almost two months since I first ran into Camille outsideSweet Cakes and Coffee, but it feels like I’ve known her much longer. It’s strange how that happens with some people. There are folks in town that I’ve known for years, but I feel like I hardly know them. And then there’s Camille, a woman I don’t know that much about, yet I feel like we’ve known each other all of our lives. We connect. And that connection is what makes her withdrawal so much harder to process.
“Hey, man,” Ricky calls from behind me. “Ready for me to start rewiring this place?”
“Yep, the kitchen is all yours.” I dust my hands off on my jeans, about ready to call it a day. “The cabinets arrive on Tuesday. Any chance you can be done by then?”
He looks around the now empty space with his hands on his hips. “Maybe. Depends on what I find once I dig in. I’ll know more tomorrow. I imagine it won’t take too long since you gutted this place. Makes it easier to trace the wiring.”
“Good. If it goes fast, we’ll be ahead of schedule.” I put the last of my tools away and reach for my coat. “You and Rachel coming out tonight?”
“Yep, Rachel’s been looking forward to it all week. We missed the last two tastings, and she’s more than ready to get out of the house.”
“Good. I’ve missed hanging out with you guys.”
“Oh, wow.” Camille’s voice draws my attention away from Ricky. “I’m gone for three hours, and look at this place. The space looks so huge with everything gone.”
