Scarlett lowered her head slowly, her eyes opening and meeting his gaze. She startled slightly, sitting up straight and bringing her hand to her chest. “You’ve really gotta stop doing that,” she said on a small laugh.
“Sorry,” he murmured, stepping out of the trees and walking to the other side of the stream from which she sat facing him. He could have taken three steps and walked across it, but instead he sat down on a large rock next to him, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “One of the guys working at Lilith House said you were headed this way.” He squinted at the crystal-clear water rolling steadily over the rocks in its bed.
“Yeah?” she asked, eyeing him, obviously questioning why he’d decided to come in search of her through the woods.
What reason did he have? I’m drawn to you. I can’t seem to stay away. I think about you far more than I should. Those were all true, but he couldn’t tell her that. Wasn’t ready or willing to admit any such thing. He’d admitted far too much already. He needed to be drawing away, and instead, he was seeking her out. “I, uh”—he reached forward and scooped up some water, drank it from his cupped hand—“was really thirsty.” He gave her a wry smile, hoping his humor had worked to deflect her question.
She laughed. “Seems like you could have quenched your thirst in any number of more convenient ways.”
He squinted off behind her, smiling. “More convenient, but not half as refreshing. There’s nothing quite like flowing stream water.”
She eyed him, acquiescing with a smile. “You are correct there. I tasted it. It is indeed refreshing,” she teased.
He chuckled and for a moment they simply smiled across at each other, the chemistry in the air between them as much a moving current as the rolling water.
A hawk cried out overhead and the trees rustled in the breeze. “Peaceful out here, isn’t it?” he murmured.
“Yes, except the bird calls, which have me running for the nestling formula. I’ve apparently already been programmed like one of Pavlov’s dogs.” She laughed. “Either that or it’s PTSD.” She shook her head. “Haddie’s on day duty with her new sitter, Millie Schmidt. Do you know her?”
Cam smiled. “Yes. She’s a nice girl. You deserve the break. I’m sorry I interrupted your quiet time.”
Scarlett shook her head. “No, I’m glad you’re here.” Her cheeks colored slightly as she looked up at him from under her lashes, and if he’d questioned it the other night, he suddenly knew without doubt that she felt the same electric charge flowing between them that he did. Damn it felt good. And terrible. His eyes roamed her face, her body. He’d thought before that she was pretty, but it was more than that. She was beautiful, from her shiny golden-brown hair to her perfect unpolished toes. He leaned over and pulled a long reed of grass from the ground, needing to busy his hands.
Scarlett wiggled her feet. “It feels wonderful,” she sighed and at the sound of her pleasure, his body tightened. He welcomed it. This moment . . . it felt good and . . . innocent. This is how it’s supposed to feel, a voice whispered inside. He thought of the natives who had once drank from this very stream, carrying containers of the cool, clean water back to their tribe. It amazed him that when he was in her presence for short bursts of time, it felt as if nothing else existed, only her. And that feeling was especially vivid here where there was only the earth below and the sky above. No Lilith House. No plan. No promise. No past, and no future. Only them. Only now.
It made him feel like the man he wanted to be. Not the one Georgie and Mason believed he should aspire to. Certainly not the vision Lilith House had had for him. Just his own, the one he rarely explored, the one who lived inside him like a secret garden just beginning to grow.
His thoughts caused his mood to sour, bursting the peaceful bubble he’d been in so briefly. He looked down, focusing on the practiced movement of his fingers.
“This feels like the first time in forever I’ve just sat still and done nothing,” she said.
He regarded her, noted the serene expression on her face, the way her body looked relaxed and pliant. The sun was shining on her exposed thighs and he could see a light brown birthmark mostly hidden by the raised hem of her skirt. Every muscle in his body primed to lift that skirt higher, to discover the mystery of her birthmark. Did it look like a crescent moon, or maybe a state? Maybe there was nothing to compare it to. Maybe that birthmark was a shape that was completely specific to her, like a fingerprint, or the curl of the hair on her scalp. He wanted to know it. He wanted to trace it and commit it to memory. Damn but he was attracted to her. “I imagine, being a single mom, you rarely get breaks.”
She nodded, sighed. “It’s true. It can be really hard not having someone to split the workload with.” She chewed on her lip for a moment as if considering. “In lots of ways, things are easier now that Haddie isn’t a baby. No diapers, no crazy sleep schedule.” She paused for a moment. “But Haddie . . . well, you haven’t met her, but she’s . . . she’s different.” She frowned slightly as though regretting her own words.
“How do you mean?”
“Well, my friend Merrilee calls her an old soul, and I guess that’s a good way to describe it. She’s the most serious kid you’ll ever meet. It’s like she has this very intense inner world that so far, she hasn’t shared with me.”
Cam tilted his head. He could relate to that. For different reasons of course. He’d been isolated from the world at large, his early existence mostly narrowed down to three basement rooms. He’d been deeply shamed by the fact that he—they—were considered such an embarrassment that they had to be hidden away like a dirty secret. Then later, tricked, used . . . Yes, that was all different, but even now, he had trouble sharing his inner feelings with anyone. Sometimes he wanted to, he did, but he simply didn’t know how. Nor had there been anyone he could tell, because his thoughts and experiences seemed too unusual, too strange and overwhelming to hand over to another person and expect them to even remotely understand. To handle them gently. Except for the people who’d lived it with him. Those who were also discarded . . . “Maybe she just doesn’t have the words yet to describe all her feelings,” he offered.
She nodded. “Yes. Yes, that’s what I’ve thought too. Hoped. It’s just . . . in the meantime, I worry about her. I worry that she keeps secrets from me.”
“What sort of secrets?”
Scarlett shrugged. “I don’t know.” Her gaze moved away again, a worried frown creasing her forehead. His fingers moved more swiftly on the blade of grass, folding and looping.
“I’m probably not one to give advice on kids”—he glanced up at her momentarily—“but what I do know is that you’re a loving mom who cares deeply for her daughter. Anyone with two eyes in their head could see that. And I don’t think there’s anything more important for a kid than that. She’ll find the words, eventually. And you’ll be the first person she brings them to.”
She smiled softly. “Thanks, Camden, I appreciate that.” She closed her eyes momentarily, breathing out a small sigh. “This is a good place to bring your troubles to. Do you feel that way as well?”