Cami didn’t move. Nor Ben. If he had something to say, or do, she wanted to know.
Hooley blasted the horn right over their heads.
“Let’s go, let’s go, winners.”
Ben smiled at her, then pushed to his feet, offering his hand to her.
Don’t forget where we were, Ben.
At the starting line, Ben secured his arm around her, and Cami knew in that moment, if she had her way, she’d never let him go.
But she didn’t get her way, did she? She’d learned that when Mom died. Dad sending her to Indiana proved she was not as in control as she liked to believe.
Letting go was the name of her game.
8
Pop’s Yer Uncle retained their title in the final heat, but Cami and Ben gave them a run for their money. They lost by inches. Ben blamed Cami. She’d been laughing too hard.
“We could’ve had them, Cami.”
“Then you shouldn’t make me laugh.”
But oh, her laugh was his new favorite sound.
Anyway, they were celebrated, then handed the little tin second-place trophy to Chloe and Haven’s with pride and toasted their almost-victory with a tall glass of sweet tea.
Then it was just…being together. They toured the grounds, watched the games, tried a bounce house, and when the sun began to descend, they moved their chairs to the concert area for the evening’s show, performed by hometown boy and country great, Buck Mathews.
When Buck played his last song, “America the Beautiful,” fireworks exploded in the sky. Ben gripped Cami’s hand, proud to be an American, proud to be with this woman. If only for the day. For a few weeks. For this moment.
He felt so at rest; so, so normal. When had he lost touch with that feeling?
At one point during the light show finale, Cami laughed, oohed and aahed at each explosion, gripping his arm and holding on tight. When had that started feeling so normal? And very much desired.
When the show ended and she released him to fold up their chairs, Ben felt a bit adrift, as if he’d lost a tether to his life. He reached for the chairs and threw their carrying straps over his shoulder.
“Can we do this again tomorrow?” Cami said, bumping against him as they walked toward Myrtle May’s camp. “I had so much fun. The food, the light show, the three-legged race. Man, I really wanted to beat Pop’s Yer Uncle.”
“You were laughing too hard.”
“You were killing me with your Pop’s smack talk.”
“Suddenly the high school athlete I thought I’d left at Rock Mill High found his voice. So next year they’re going down.” Next year? He’d be in Sydney. Or more likely, Hong Kong.
“That’s it! I’m coming back next year and every year.” Cami turned to face him, walking backward. “Ben, you should come too!” Her inflection was a “light bulb” moment.
“I was kidding, but come back for the Fourth every year?” Why would he return to Hearts Bend if he sold the inn? Where would he stay? Then again, wouldn’t he want to see what had become of the inn?
“Sure, why not? Like a same-time-next-year sort of reunion.”
“Unless, of course, you’re madly in love and engaged.” Were those words for himself or for Cami?
“No time for romance, Ben.” Her tone changed. The laughter was gone. “Next year I’ll be buried under Indianapolis property acquisitions. Gotta make that money. Make Dad proud.”
“You’ll have time for fun.”
“I haven’t done a good job up till now.” Cami slowed her steps. “I miss this part of life. Being in a community, going places where people know your name. And not because you’re bringing a large check.”
