“Yeah, I think so. I can work remotely for a while, and I just needed to get out of the city, get by the water and family. My mom’s coming in later this afternoon, and I didn’t want to miss out on everyone being here.” He grins and leans in. “So I had to get my fix last night,” he says quietly.
I chuckle and shake my head. “Look. I don’t need you trying to set me up anymore. Okay?”
He cracks up. “You’re telling me you don’t need a little help? Come on, man, you’re working crazy-ass hours at the restaurant, and you’re buried in work, helping get the resort opened. When’s the last time you had fun?”
Juju’s lips on mine last night come to mind.
Out loud, I say, “Broomball was fun.”
“With family,” he argues. “You don’t get to count that. I mean fun with someone who could actually rid you of some of this tension you’re carrying all the time.”
“I do just fine,” I say tightly.
The problem is, I know exactly who I want to rid me of this tension. It’s just not someone Jackson would ever approve of.
“Not interested,” I add. “Not right now.”
He studies me. “Not right now? Or not ever?”
“I’ve got too much going on,” I say. “Like you said, I’m at the restaurant a fuck-ton. We’re still finding our footing. I’m trying to keep up with supply runs, payroll, the staff. And I’m trying to do my part to make sure the resort is on track to open on schedule. It’s a lot.”
He leans back on his heels. For once, he doesn’t look like he’s about to crack a joke. “That’s exactly what I’m saying—you’ve got too much going on and need some fun. But I hear you. I just don’t want you to burn out.”
“I’ll be okay. I don’t need distractions.”
What I don’t add is:except for Juju.
And she isn’t really a distraction. She’s oxygen.
He shrugs. “If you’re sure…”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay. Guess I’ll cancel the double date I’d lined up for next week.”
I groan. “Immediately.”
“Noted.” He drains his coffee cup and sets it down, then pushes off the counter. “But time’s flying by. Don’t miss out on the good shit.”
I’m left there with the sound of the kitchen fan and my conflicted thoughts.
I’ve already got what I want.
I just can’t tell him yet.
Not until I can figure out how to keep everything from blowing up.
I tug my coat back on as I step onto the deck. The sun is trying to come out, which is warming things up a bit. Across the yard, Grandma Donna sits like a queen on the Friendship Bench.
She’s bundled up so well that I laugh out loud. A knitted hat pulled low, her scarf wound around three times…I don’t know how she can see or breathe under all her layers. Her needles clickin that way that I always associate with her, since she’s been knitting as far back as I can remember. Her gloves are the only lightweight thing she’s wearing. She’s lining black and white yarn out beside her, like she’s about to start a new project.
“How’s it going?” I ask, my voice breaking the quiet.
She startles, then drags her eyes from the water view up to me. “Mercy, Camden. You’re quieter than your papa ever was.” She shakes her head, settling. “Just got done with a session and have a little time before the next one.”
“You’re not freezing out here?”
“No, those heaters help so much.” She points at herself. “And I’m all bundled up.”
