“Cami, to be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing. Still trying to figure it out. But let me rinse off and I’ll at least give you a tour.”
She followed him to the back of the property, toward the barn and work shed, rehearsing her pitch, the one she’d practiced yesterday and again on the drive over.
The Ben she’d known had never wanted to own the inn. He’d had plans and dreams to travel the world. Didn’t want anything to tie him down.
At a short water spigot, Ben yanked off his T-shirt and knelt to rinse off. Cami tried not to stare, really. But seriously, those abs had not come from sitting on the couch binge-watching Netflix.
After a few minutes, he rose up and ran his hand through his reddish-blond hair, then reached inside the shed for a towel. He dried off, returned the towel to the shed, and came out with a clean, dry T-shirt and his ball cap back on.
“You have a change of clothes in the shed?”
“Myrtle May set me up out here. She said I can’t come in her lobby all sweaty and dirty.”
“She runs a tight ship.”
“She’s all right, MM. She was the only one there for Granny in the end…” His voice trailed off, and Cami felt his regret. “Anyway, I’ll show you around.” He walked backward toward the pool, regarding her. “You really want to buy the place? It needs a lot of work.”
“The need for renovations is reflected in my offer.”
Did Ben want to sell? She couldn’t tell. But he was so much like the Ben she’d crushed on every summer. Older, of course, broader, more handsome, but with the same calm interior she’d loved.
“The pool needs new tile and liner but otherwise is in good shape.” Ben paused by the kiddie end. The blue water sparkled in the sunlight, highlighting the tile that needed replacing as well as the teak lounge chairs and umbrellas, which were sun-bleached and old.
Next they took a paved path to a huge flower garden. Yellow daffodils lifted their cheery heads toward the summer sun. At the end of the garden, there were three walkways to three small cottages. Cottages One and Two were single bedrooms and baths. Cottage Three was the largest with two bedrooms, each with a clawfoot tub and an old farmers sink fifteen years ago, popular well before HGTV made it a thing. But she’d avoid that space for now. She was doing well, holding on, but she had no guarantee if she walked near or into Cottage Three.
The owner’s house was beyond the cottages, centered in the middle of a tree grove. The three-bedroom farmhouse was modest, but with all the outdoor space, it could be a charming place to raise a family.
The cottages and the farmhouse backed up to a pond with a dock and a garden-sized windmill.
Cami had spent numerous summer evenings sitting on the edge of the dock with Ben, toes skimming the water, talking, dreaming, his arm barely grazing hers, sometimes swimming, often rowing out to the middle in a small boat. It’d taken him all summer to kiss her in that tree house. The memories made her laugh.
“Care to share?” Ben said, turning to her.
“I was remembering the tree house.”
He grinned and pushed the hat back on his head. “I kept thinking, ‘What a kiss! We broke the tree house.’”
Their laughter harmonized with reminiscing.
“Then lost our breath when we hit the ground,” Cami said.
“I’ll tell you one thing, I’ve never been kissed like that since.”
“Well then, we have that in common.” Cami stepped toward the pond. “I forgot how beautiful it is here.” She glanced back at him. “My offer is fair.”
“Maybe, but who says I’m going to sell?”
She faced him, arms akimbo. “Me.”
He glanced around as if looking for someone. “Really? Because I don’t see your army.”
“Well, Ben Carter, that’s because I’m an army unto myself.” She loved that she made him laugh.
Ben stepped toward her, and without asking her permission, her heart skipped a few beats. “Is that so?” he said. “Because?—”
Cami’s phone chimed from her bag. “Excuse me, let me make sure it’s not my assistant.”
She knew full well it wasn’t Astrid—she had a specific ring—but she needed a moment to figure out what was going on with her. Heart flutters as she walked down memory lane at Hearts Bend Inn. Remembering Mama without falling apart.
