Slow Summer Kisses (7 page)

She almost laughed, trying to imagine how cranky an unhappy Cam would be, but she didn’t want to ruin the moment. “My stay definitely
is
temporary. It’s nice to relax for a few minutes, but I can’t walk away from my career like you did. You went to law school, for Pete’s sake and you just…”

“Threw it all away?”

“Yeah. I can’t imagine doing that.”

“I can’t imagine my life if I
hadn’t
done it.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. It wasn’t something she could wrap her head around—just walking away from years of education and climbing rungs on the professional ladder—to do odd jobs and build chests out of old barn boards. And she knew that, no matter how long they talked about it, they wouldn’t see eye to eye. They were too different and she’d do well to remember that. She could want him. She could have him. She could even enjoy his fully-clothed company. But she couldn’t get attached to him.

Chapter Seven

Three weeks later…

“I never should have taught you how to drive.”

Anna laughed and merged her car into highway traffic. It was a bright red, late-model Honda Civic Cam had helped her pick out the weekend before and she was madly in love with it. It was a lot easier to drive than his pick-up and definitely better on gas. It was quick and agile—zippy, she liked to call it—and it suited her perfectly.

“You must be a good teacher, since I have a shiny new driver’s license in my purse.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised since you threw yourself into passing that test the same way you throw yourself into everything—throttle wide open. You can probably quote entire passages from the driver’s manual.”

“It was nice of them to put it online. I could carry it around on my phone.” She put on her left turn signal, glanced over her left shoulder and shifted lanes, accelerating at the same time. “We should do something to celebrate. Think of something.”

“For starters you could slow down and get back in the right lane.”

“I don’t want to be behind that truck. It smells.”

“I could drive.”

“Or you could walk.” That was the nice thing about having her own car. She was the boss of it and, therefore, the boss of her passengers. “I can’t take all day if I want to get back in time for knitting club. Now that my scarf is long enough so I’ll have to start calling it a really skinny blanket soon, Pearl’s going to teach me how to bind it off.”

“And a lovely scarf it is,” Cam said.

“It’s not that bad.” After she’d somewhat mastered basic stitches and learned to relax her hands a little, she’d ripped out the original project and started a new scarf actually worthy of being called that. It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t look like a cat had gotten tangled in it and fought its way free, either. “Did you finish the trunk for Don?”

“Wrapping it up this afternoon.”

They fell into a companionable silence that even lasted through her getting off the highway and pointing the car toward home. Cam tended to be a lot less cranky now, which was good. She wasn’t sure if it was the regular sex they were having or if he was just getting used to her, but she liked it.

He’d taken today off to accompany her to Concord for her driver’s test, but usually they each did their own thing during the day, then had supper together. More often than not they spent the night together, but always at his place. They’d started getting frisky at hers once, but they both balked at the idea of moving the action to her grandparents’ bed.

All in all, her time at Askaskwi Lake was turning out to be a lot more relaxing than she’d first anticipated, except when she stopped in front of the refrigerator and analyzed what was going on in her life. Each day that passed without a job offer seemed to add a dark chunk to the black raincloud hovering over her. She’d already had to drop the bar a little, sending out a second and then third round of resumés to companies that hadn’t been on her original A-list. Even though she tried to hide it, she was starting to get a little twitchy about it. She wasn’t ready to be left behind by the career she’d dedicated almost her entire life to.

They were running a little later than she’d anticipated, but she had her knitting with her, so she pulled into Cam’s driveway to drop him off. He leaned over and kissed goodbye before opening his door. Then he kissed her again, so thoroughly she would have skipped knitting class if not for the fact she had to learn to bind her scarf off before she needed attendants to carry the trailing end behind her.

“Have fun.” He got out and closed the door, then waved before he disappeared inside.

For some reason Anna suddenly had difficulty swallowing past the lump in her throat as she threw the car in Reverse. She wasn’t usually an emotional person, but there was something about this day—the way he’d said goodbye—that struck some deep domestic chord in her. It wasn’t something she’d ever felt before and she tried to shove it out of her mind as she navigated the back roads. Probably just a weird mix of spending too much time with Cam, really great sex and too much relaxing.

The library was a little more crowded than usual, with a few of the high school girls on hand for knitting club, but Pearl had saved her the seat next to her and made a big fuss over the scarf Anna pulled out of her bag.

“It came out lovely,” she exclaimed. “I knew you’d get the hang of it.”

“Looks like the knitting of a woman who knows how to make a good cocktail,” Margaret added.

Anna wondered what the reaction would be if she confessed it was the orgasms and not alcohol that had a relaxing effect on her, but didn’t say it out loud. “Do you think it’s nice enough to be a gift?”

Pearl got a knowing gleam in her eye. “Of course. You chose a nice soft wool and the beige heather is such a beautiful color. Especially on a man with dark hair and dark eyes. Maybe a little scruffy.”

Anna let her blush speak for her. “
Anyway…
I can’t wait to finish it off.”

Pearl patiently walked her through the steps of binding off her stitches and then she had her very first complete scarf she’d knit herself. Flush with satisfaction and with an hour left of knitting club, she pulled out the cotton yarn Margaret had recommended and cast on the stitches to make a washcloth that matched Gram’s kitchen. The pattern called for some purling, so it was another skill to master.

The conversation turned to finance because two of the teenagers were taking an economics class and were doing a stock market project. Though she listened at first, passion for the subject—and probably missing it a bit—pulled Anna in. The first two rows of the washcloth lying forgotten in her lap, she answered question after question from the girls and gave them advice people used to pay her a pretty penny to get.

“My son said I should call one of those investment manager companies,” Pearl said, “but I’ve never had enough money to bother with.”

“Any money is enough money to bother with,” Anna said. “People think only rich people need investment advice, but there are smaller companies who can take a small savings and help you grow that account and plan for retirement or a vacation or whatever you need.”

“And that’s what you do?”

She could see where that conversation was going and trotted out her standard deflection, which had come in handy many times over the years. “I work in a more specialized aspect, but I’d be happy to recommend a few places who’d be perfect for you. You can talk to them and see which one fits you best.”

“That would be wonderful!”

Before she knew it, knitting club was over and she was on her way home. Cam had whipped up a marinade he said was the most amazing marinade ever and they’d be throwing steak tips on the grill for dinner. She was starving and trying to decide what side dish to whip up to complement the most amazing marinade ever when her cell phone rang.

* * *

Cam had finished the chest Don Watson commissioned and was halfway through weed-whacking around his front porch when Anna’s car pulled into the driveway next door. He could tell as soon as she got out, she was excited. She was smiling and her cheeks were rosy so, unless she had an exceptionally good time at knitting club—or took a nip off Margaret’s flask—she’d gotten good news.

“Cam!” Apparently he wouldn’t have to wonder long because she was practically running across the yard. “I got a call from Boston. From one of my A-list prospects!”

Even as his stomach tried to recover from the sucker punch her words threw at him, he smiled and managed to catch her when she threw herself into his arms. “That’s awesome, Anna. What did they say?”

“It was just a preliminary phone call. Companies like that have a grueling hiring process. You wouldn’t even believe it. But they were interested enough to do a preliminary telephone interview and they’ll let me know if they want me to go in for a second, in-person interview. Can you believe it?”

“Of course I believe it. They’d be crazy not to want you.”

He said the right words—or so he assumed by the way she kissed him half-senseless—but inside there was an ache growing in his chest that could only mean one thing. He’d done something really, really stupid and fallen in love with Anna Frazier.

Maybe he should have seen it coming. They’d been doing the almost-a-couple thing for over a month, but they were so radically different and wanted such radically different things in life, he’d never have dreamed he’d form an attachment to her.

“Amazing news and the most amazingly marinated steak tips for dinner,” she said, pulling out of his embrace. “And I got to help a couple of high school girls with their economics project. What a good day.”

“Did they say when they’d get back to you?” he asked, which translated to asking how much longer he had her in his life.

“Nope, but hopefully soon. I’m going to go put my knitting away and start a macaroni salad to go with the steak tips. When you’re done, you can start the grill and we’ll eat. Sound good?”

“Sounds great.”

She was gone before he could say anything else, so he fired up the weed-whacker and took out his frustration on the unfortunate vegetation trying to encroach where it shouldn’t.

He wouldn’t tell her. There was no point, other than making things awkward for them during the time she had left. She wasn’t going to stay—and he wouldn’t ask her to—and he wouldn’t go. Even if some little part of him was tempted because Anna was worth it, he knew the relationship would be doomed from the minute he closed up his house and headed to the big city. He wouldn’t be happy. Eventually she wouldn’t be happy, either, and they’d both go through a whole lot of heartbreak for nothing.

Better to keep his feelings to himself and just smile and wave as she pulled out of the driveway.

“You were right. Most amazing marinade ever,” Anna said a couple of hours later, when they finally sat down to eat.

“Told you. The macaroni salad isn’t half-bad, either.”

“I thought you might like it when you scraped a third helping out of the bottom of the bowl.”

He laughed and shoved his plate away. “I might not eat at all tomorrow.”

“Doubt that.”

“So about this job interview,” he said, hoping she didn’t take offense at what he was going to tell her. “Boston’s a really tough city to drive in, even for somebody with a lot of experience. If they call you and want you to go in, do you want me to drive you?”

“I thought about that. I’ll probably drive to my grandparents’ house and then take the train into the city. But thanks.”

“Good plan. Did you call Betty and give her the good news?” Why he’d brought it up, he had no idea. Glutton for emotional punishment, maybe.

“Yup. She’s thrilled of course. She’s been terrified I’d get a job in Los Angeles or Miami or Omaha or someplace. The thought of me being in Boston made her practically giddy. I think she’s already making Christmas plans.”

He noticed she didn’t say anything about being close enough to visit him at the lake and he didn’t have the balls to ask her straight out if she’d come back and see him. Realistically, he knew she probably wouldn’t have time. Being low man on a huge corporate totem pole meant long hours and no social life.

Crossing his fingers they wouldn’t call her back wasn’t something he would do—it meant too much to her—but it was going to take every bit of acting skill he could summon to get through it.

* * *

Anna sat in one of the uncomfortable, ancient folding chairs Cam liked so much, shading her eyes against the setting sun. “I still don’t get it.”

“It’s relaxing.”

“It’s boring.”

He shook his head, which she saw through the corner of her eye. “See that ripple in the water there? The leaf’s going to drift into that in a minute and the ripple’s going to push the leaf in a new direction.”

“And…”

“And, it’s fascinating to see the effect a fish snatching an insect from the surface will have on a leaf that just happens to be floating by minutes later.”

He was crazy, she decided. Some kind of lake version of mountain man syndrome. Pretty soon he’d stop shaving and buy himself one of those two-tone pitchers with XXX on the outside so he could sit around swilling something he brewed in his bathtub. “I should have brought my knitting.”

“Gotta do your part to solve the world’s washcloth shortage.”

“Very funny.” Over the last few days she’d had a hell of a time burning off the nervous energy that came from waiting for an important phone call, so she’d done a lot of knitting and washcloths were fast and easy. Maybe
too
fast and easy.

“See,” he said, pointing at the leaf as it made a very slow, very lazy adjustment toward the banking.

“You’re right. That was fascinating.”

“Smartass. I should throw you in. See how
those
ripples affect it.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

As soon as he moved, she started screeching, scrambling to get out of her own chair. She didn’t quite make it clear enough to run, but she put up a hell of a fight before he managed to get his arms wrapped around her and half carried her to the edge of the dock.

“No, Cam!”

“If I throw you in, you’ll want to take a shower and then I’ll get to wash your back.”

“How about you
don’t
throw me in and I’ll wash
your
back.”

“And you make breakfast.”

“Deal.” When he pulled her back from the edge and released her, Anna breathed a sigh of relief. And she hadn’t said
what
she’d make for breakfast. Taking Pop-Tarts out of the box wasn’t all that hard, and all was fair in love and not getting thrown in the lake.

Not love, of course. It was just an expression, because it would be ridiculous to fall in love with Cam Mayfield. She wasn’t staying long. He thought she was a pain in the ass. He was a Red Sox fan. It would never work.

“You ready to head in?” Cam asked, jerking her out of her thoughts. Not that she was complaining because the direction her thoughts had been heading unsettled her.

“Yeah. I’m a little chilly, actually.”

He gave her a mock leer. “I bet I can warm you up.”