“Yep, you’re right. You don’t like her at all.” He slaps my shoulder and laughs. “Gotta grab a few things from my truck. I’ll meet you outside.”
I grumble, not because he calls me out, but because he’s right. I hate that he knows me that well. I learned a long time ago that I’m incapable of hiding my feelings from my close friends. I’m an open book.
I wave at Rachel, and she smiles. Even she can tell I’m looking forward to seeing Camille again. How is it that I’m feeling excited and nervous about seeing a woman I’ve only met once? Twice if you count our run-in outside the coffee shop.
I only hope she’s looking forward to seeing me again, too.
Ricky’s standingbeside me with a mischievous grin on his face and a spark in his eyes. He looks at me instead of the door. I’m already nervous, and his watchful eyes are making me even more nervous to see Camille again.
“Stop looking at me like that.” I turn my back to him and knock.
Camille answers, and she looks more beautiful than she did the first time I met her. She’s wearing a pale pink sweater with matching dress pants. A bright pink sheer scarf that brings out the gray streaks in her long, dark hair is draped around her neck. With high heeled shoes and dainty pearls dangling over the scarf, she definitely doesn’t look like she belongs in Watercress Falls. She looks like she’s ready to walk the runway in a fancy fashion show in New York City.
“Adam.” She shoots me a huge smile that hits me straight in the gut. Yeah, Ricky and Rachel have me pegged. I like Camille. “It's so good to see you again.”
“Sorry it took longer than anticipated.” My body heats under her stare, and every one of my nerve endings feel like they’ve been hit with a jolt of electricity.
“Not a problem. It gave me time to get more settled. Please come in.” She steps aside, waving us in and out of the cold air.
“This is Ricky. He does all the electrical and furnace work for my projects. Ricky, this is Camille.”
“Oh, please, call me Cami.” She offers her hand to Ricky, and I wish I had a reason to take it instead.
“Pleased to meetcha, ma’am.” Ricky smiles and shakes her hand.
A ping of jealousy rushes through me seeing Ricky’s hand wrap around hers. It’s so stupid, especially since I know Ricky isn’t the least bit interested. I shouldn’t be jealous of a married man.
But I can’t help it because I recall the feel of her soft, delicate hand in mine. I bet they’d feel good running down the ridges of my chest until they reached …
Stop it. What the hell is wrong with me?
I’m creating a problem for myself. If she looks down, she might noticethatproblem.
I fake a cough and turn my back to them. I have to hide my embarrassment and my body’s reaction to the mere thought of her hands on my bare skin.
“I hope you don’t mind … that I brought him along.” I say over my shoulder, still faking a cough between words. I take a second to adjust myself before I continue. “I’d like him to refine his estimate on the electrical work identified on the inspection and replacing that old furnace sooner rather than later. I’m surprised it’s still running.”
“Of course. Whatever you need,” she says.
I finally have myself under control and turn around. The sun beams through the window behind her and filters through herpale pink sweater. It’s thin enough that the sun illuminates the curves of her breasts and waist that otherwise are hidden from view. I swallow hard, fighting back my body’s urges once again.
“If you could direct me to the breaker box, I’ll start there,” Ricky cuts in. I glance in his direction and catch the smirk on his face. I’m gonna hear about this later.
“Great.” She waves for Ricky to follow her down the hall that leads to the garage. She looks over her shoulder at me and says, “Adam, if you want to take a seat in the kitchen, I’ll be right back to go over the numbers.”
“Sounds good.” I nod.
Ricky gives me a wide-eyed grin as he passes and mouthsget it togetheras he walks by. I wave him off, ignoring his silent remark.
My eyes are transfixed on Camille. For someone who claims to be such a klutz, all I see is a graceful, beautiful woman. Even her high heeled shoes barely make a sound as they lightly clank against the hardwood floors.
I take a seat at the small table in the kitchen where we sat the first day. I smile when I catch a whiff of coffee. I glance at the pot and debate on whether it’s appropriate for me to pour myself a cup or if I should wait for her to return.
The decision is taken away when she returns a few minutes later. “I think Ricky is all set. Can I get you some coffee?”
“Yes, please.” I smile and lift the box of pastries I brought. “I got you some more chocolate croissants.”
“Oh, you are the devil,” her southern accent comes out strong and she laughs. She pulls a couple small plates out of the cabinet before joining me at the table. “Every time I visit the coffee shop Rachel forces a new pastry on me.”
