Love Reclaimed: (Clean Small-Town Romance) (Kings Grove Book 4) Page 9

  I was an outsider in some ways, but I’d still been infused with some of the local magic Kings Grove left on those who lived here. I liked that Cam and I shared that, and that it made me part of a community in some ways. I was realizing that being on my own for so long had been both gratifying and exhausting. It was possible that I hadn’t truly relaxed in the last ten years.

  We pulled up a gravel drive to a house that appeared to be perched on a boulder, a wide deck reaching out toward the driveway from the front, suspended over the open ground below.

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah,” Cam agreed.

  I waited while he came around the car to let me out. I knew I could have opened the door myself, but I couldn’t help liking the way it felt to let someone else look out for me. Even just for a little while.

  Chapter 9

  CAMERON

  I drove Harper to Maddie’s, my mind more fixated on my neighbor’s dark hair and curves than I would have liked after the evening we’d spent together playing cards. It had only gotten worse over the course of the day. I’d seen her come and go, watched her without really meaning to. I was thankful for the invitation to my sister’s, since having other people around meant I could keep a little distance and give myself some time to think about what exactly I was doing when it came to her.

  I knew I was flirting—it was a skill I hadn’t practiced in a while, but with Harper it was easy. She invited the banter, made me want to laugh. I hadn’t felt that in a long time, and it made me feel like I was doing something wrong now, taking something that didn’t belong to me. My mind was in pieces, which I guess matched my heart. I knew I should stay away, that my focus should be looking after my sister and keeping her happy and safe. She was what I had left, and pulling anyone else into my mess wasn’t a good idea. Besides, Harper was a temporary fixture in Kings Grove. My heart had probably had all the disappointment it could handle, and getting attached and then watching her leave wouldn’t be helpful. Easier to just stay away. There was also the possibility that the Cameron Turner curse would hurt her, and I knew I wouldn’t survive that. It might have been nuts, but I wasn’t sure that Harper would survive it if I let myself become too attached to her. I didn’t have a good track record there.

  I parked and opened Harper’s door, and together we went to the front door.

  “There you are,” Maddie said, pulling open the door at the bottom of the big house. The place was essentially built into a giant boulder, and the main deck hung overhead, jutting out from the side of the rock. The fireplace inside had been carved into the rock—it was a pretty insane house. She hugged us both. “Come in,” she said, turning and leading us up the stairs to the main level. “I’m so glad you guys came. Together.”

  She finished this sentence as we topped the stairs, and her words sank in at the same time as I felt Harper’s hand find my arm, her little fingers sliding into the crook of my elbow as she climbed up the last stair. An irrational happiness spread through me, and guilt followed immediately on its heels. Not for the first time in the last few days, alarm bells rang in my head, but it was impossible to force myself away from her, her vivacity and smile pulling at me like a magnet. I handed my sister the wine. “Here, Harper brought this.”

  “Thanks,” said Maddie, shooting me a knowing look as she noticed Harper’s hand moving from my arm. “Come in. Have a drink.”

  “Your house is beautiful,” Harper said, her eyes sliding around the room, taking in the dark wood and leather furniture.

  “Thanks,” Maddie said. “I’m trying to make it less man cave and a little more feminine, but I’m meeting with some resistance.” Connor stepped to my sister’s side then, his dark red hair and beard making him look intimidating as ever, like he might be part Viking.

  “Hey Cam,” he said, shaking my hand. “Harper, right?”

  Harper shook Connor’s hand, and then Maddie pulled us to the kitchen.

  We followed and I accepted the beer she pulled from the refrigerator. Harper asked for a glass of water, and we soon found ourselves standing with Chance and Mike, standing just inside the doors that led out to the wide deck where Chance’s brother Sam and his fiancee Miranda stood with their heads bent together.

  “Hey, Cam.” Chance greeted me, drawing me into the conversation, and forcing all eyes my way.

  “Hey,” I returned, feeling a spotlight pinning me in place. “Chance, have you met Harper Lyles?”

  “Hey again,” Harper said.

  I couldn’t help but smile at her as she shook Chance’s hand and then fell naturally into conversation with the couple. I watched as she charmed them, talking about the Inn, about what she’d been doing in New York City. She was humble yet confident, vivacious but not at all irritating. Something inside me was pushing me toward her, and my mind was churning, trying to figure out why. It was like giving in to a building pressure that was driving me to do so much more than just smile at her. I felt like if I stood this close to her for too long, I’d end up forced to pull her into my arms, press myself into her, get as close as humanly possible to whatever it was that radiated from her like an addictive force just to let off some of the pressure.

  “How’s it going?” Chance said, clearly undeterred by my distraction. His arm fell easily around Mike’s shoulder.

  “Yeah,” I said, hating the sound of my own voice. “Good.”

  “Harper says you guys have heard the mountain lion across the ravine?” Mike said, her smile bright and easy.

  “Think so.” I sipped my beer, but all eyes remained on me so I continued. “Talked to Ranger George this morning. They’re going to try to trap it, move it to the back country.”

  “Tell them about the other noises too, though,” Harper prodded. “The thing you’ve been feeding.”

  I wasn’t excited to have the whole village know I’d been feeding some strange animal—it was somewhat contrary to everything we all knew about keeping wildlife wild, but I suspected whatever I was feeding wasn’t wild in the first place. “I honestly think it’s a dog,” I said. “Not sure what it’s doing up there, or if it’s hurt…”

  “You said it couldn’t be a dog,” Harper said, reminding me of one of our first conversations. “You think it is?”

  “Yeah, maybe ran away from a campground. Haven’t actually seen it.” I swallowed more beer, hoping the conversation would shift again, and I wouldn’t be the center of attention. I got my wish when Chance turned to whisper something in Mike’s ear and she laughed, looking up into his face.

  I stepped back, hoping to escape outside, but Harper came with me. I stopped in front of the windows looking out onto the deck.

  Harper was bouncing on her toes at my side, a ball of wild energy that fascinated me and drew me in. “This is so nice,” she said. “I hadn’t realized how lonely things have been—how lonely I’ve been. Thank you for including me, for allowing me to get to know your friends.”

  I looked down at her, wanting to take her somewhere quiet, have her to myself again. “I don’t actually spend a lot of time with friends,” I admitted. “I try to stay close to my sister, but I worry about getting too attached to other people.”

  Her face revealed her surprise, and she let out a light laugh. “Why?”

  I had no idea why I was telling her this, but I forged ahead, lifting a shoulder in a half-shrug. She’d surely think I was crazy, but it might work to keep her at a distance. And I wasn’t sure I’d succeed in staying away from her on my own. If she thought I was nuts, or believed being near me could hurt her, she’d pitch into the effort. “I’ve got a lot of evidence that people I care a lot about tend to die.”

  Her eyebrows shot up but she didn’t say anything. Those dark eyes held mine, told me she was waiting for more.

  “Not just people,” I said. “Pets, too.” I took a long swig of the beer in my hand, and when she still didn’t speak, I went on, leaning against the porch railing and turning to stare out over the treetops at the sky as it turned from cerulea
n to indigo. “When I was a kid, I had a guinea pig. But only for a few days. As soon as we got him home and set up, he died.”

  She made a sad noise, telling me she was still listening.

  “So we got a second guinea pig, figuring the first one was sick when we got it. Got this one from a different place. I had it two weeks.”

  “Did you forget to feed the little guy?” she asked, a half smile lifting her plump lips.

  I sighed. “I know it sounds ridiculous. He didn’t die because I forgot to feed him. My dad joked that I was cursed, but I think he was actually right.”

  “Come on, Cam,” she said.

  I took another long pull and then told her the rest. “In junior high school my best friend Tony and I were inseparable as soon as we met. We did everything together for three months. He was supposed to be coming to my house one night to spend the night, and he never showed up. Got hit by a car while he rode his bike, and died on the side of the road.”

  “Oh my gosh,” her voice was a whisper now. Miranda and Sam had gone inside and it was just us on the deck. I turned to face her, unable to stop recounting the markers of my curse now that I’d begun.

  “We got a dog after that. My parents were trying to cheer me up after Tony died. The dog lived six months. In high school it was my favorite teacher. A few years later? My mom. When I met Jess, I loved her so much I convinced myself it couldn’t be real, that all these deaths couldn’t possibly be linked to me. And then Jess died.”

  “Cam—“

  “I know it sounds insane. But it’s too much to risk again. I think maybe it’s some kind of karmic toll I’m paying.”

  “Something you did in a past life?” She asked thoughtfully, and it occurred to me she wasn’t reacting as I’d expected, maybe even hoped. She wasn’t backing away. In fact, her hand was on my arm again, and she stepped nearer. “Do you really believe that?”

  I rubbed a hand down my face, trying to move my focus from where her fingers singed my skin, from the nearness of her. “I don’t know. Maybe.” I looked at her, this vibrant woman who was more alive than anyone I’d ever met. And then I pictured her dead, lifeless, and I pulled my arm out of her grasp. “Yeah, I do.”

  “It’s total crap, Cam,” she said, her voice low but assertive.

  “Hey guys,” Maddie called, stepping out onto the deck. “Dinner.”

  I turned to go in, but Harper grabbed my hand and stepped in close again. “I get why you might think you’re cursed, but I also think you know it’s bull. I don’t believe it, for what it’s worth.”

  I held her dark eyes, dancing with defiant heat and energy, and then let out a resigned breath. “Let’s go eat,” I said.

  But I didn’t let go of her hand until we reached the door, and when I dropped her smooth fingers to hold the door for her, I missed the warmth of them immediately.

  Inside, I found a seat next to Maddie, simultaneously glad and unhappy to see Harper settled at the opposite end of the table between Mike and Chance.

  Conversation rippled around me, and I floated on its current, never adding much to it myself. My brain churned in time with my heartbeat, irrational worries pulsing across the movie screen in my head. It wasn’t a good idea to get too close to people, my mind said. At almost the same time, I recognized these thoughts for falsehoods, but as I tried to combat them mentally, emotion joined the battle and threw in a tiny little voice asking me if I was sure. Was I just being silly? Or did the ones I love tend to die? This was the mental loop I lived in, and it was why I so frequently chose solitude. It was hard to connect with people when there was an insane part of you that believed that very connection might end up dooming them.

  But God, I was tired of being alone.

  “Cam,” Maddie said, her voice catching my attention. “I’ve been meaning to ask you—about the wedding. Harper is getting a movie made, and you’d be the perfect person to help.”

  I shook my head, not quite following. “What? A movie? What do you mean?”

  Mike spoke up then. “Harper’s idea, actually,” she said. “We’d like to produce a movie about the Inn, but focus on Maddie’s wedding.”

  “We’ll make two versions,” Harper said, a bright smile making her glow as she leaned in to talk. “One for Maddie and Connor of course, but another that can work as promo footage for the Inn.”

  I understood. And I saw why Maddie had thought to ask me to help. Movies had once been my job—my passion. But I hadn’t made a film in a long time, and what they needed was more practical help than I could probably offer. “I don’t film,” I said. “I’m not a cameraman. I don’t know how helpful I’d be.” As I said it, already my mind was jumping from my irrational worries to this project, eager to have something more productive to fixate on.

  Maddie shook her head. “No, we need you to do what you do best—you’re the visionary, right? If you’ll help guide it, create the vision, I know it would be amazing. If you let us do it without you, I might as well just hand my phone to Adele and let her film me walking down the aisle.”

  “They’ve made entire Hollywood movies with phone cameras,” I told her. She stuck out her tongue at me.

  “Please?” Harper asked, and the lilt in her voice and the shine in her eyes told me I’d be saying yes in a matter of minutes. While every crazy thought in my head was warning me to stay away from her, every cell in my body was driving me to jump on this chance to get closer to her.

  “Okay,” I agreed. “Might need to bring someone else in to film, though.”

  “I’d be happy to use my phone,” Sam said, always the joker.

  “No thanks,” Chance shot across the table.

  “You’re a great artist, Sam,” Miranda said, her hand finding the back of his neck. “But I think your talents lie in pen and paper.”

  “You saw the movie I made with Finn last week,” Sam countered. “With the stop-motion pinecone people attacking the tent and the tiny pine-needle zombies? Don’t forget about the little bears we made out of mud!”

  “Point made,” Chance said. “And you’d be the perfect choice if Maddie and Connor were made out of mud. You know someone, Cam?”

  I leaned back in my chair, thinking. I knew a couple guys who might be willing to come spend some time in the mountains. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “That’d be awesome. Thanks, man.” Connor smiled.

  When dinner wrapped up, I excused myself, telling everyone I was exhausted from a long week. It wasn’t a lie, but the whole truth had more to do with my need to put some distance between me and the warm contentment circling the group inside Connor’s house for fear of wrecking it with my disjointed emotions. My mind was zinging back and forth, pushing me to explore whatever might exist between me and Harper, and pushing me to avoid connection at the same time.

  “Take me home?” Harper asked me as I said goodbye, her hand on my arm, its heat branding me, snaking over my skin, through my blood.

  I searched for the strength to tell her to stay, to have fun. Instead I found an image of the two of us sharing the dark cab of my truck on the short drive home, her energy pulsing around me, filling me with an almost unfamiliar sensation—hope.

  “Sure,” I said. “Ready?”

  I settled Harper into the cab of the truck, and soon enough we were ensconced in the quiet darkness, the hum of the motor creating a soothing purr as I drove.

  “That was nice,” Harper said, leaning her head back against the seat. “It’s strange,” she continued. “This should be one of the most stressful times of my life. I’m broke, essentially homeless, forced to approach reconstructing a completely dysfunctional relationship with my dad, and worried about a business deal I really want to take advantage of, but which might disappear at any moment if I don’t get down to Austin soon enough. And yet…” Harper trailed off.

  “Yet what?” I asked, wishing for the sound of her voice as soon as it was gone.

  “Yet I feel happy. Calm. Peaceful, even.”

  I smi
led at her. I liked thinking that Harper was happy. I barely knew the woman, and still I didn’t like to think of her sad. “Good,” I said.

  “What about you?” she asked.

  “What about me?”

  “Living with a curse has to be pretty stressful.” I could hear the smile in her voice.

  “It’s not a joke.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “It is,” I confirmed. “I worry all the time. I want to keep my sister close, go down and check on my dad, make sure he’s okay. But then I tell myself they might actually be better if I stay away, keep my distance.”

  “But you’ve loved Maddie all your life and she’s fine.”

  “For now.”

  “Everyone dies sometime, Cam.”

  She was right. I knew she was right. “I know.” I didn’t want to talk about this anymore, and she must have sensed it because she didn’t say another word until we’d pulled into the dark driveway beside her house.

  Without speaking, I stepped out and went around the car to open her door.

  Harper stepped out of the car, the cab light shining behind her, illuminating the curves of her body, shining through the edges of her thick dark hair. I wanted to touch her right then, had to fight the urge to take a strand of that hair and rub it between my fingers. I wanted to pull her close, so I stepped away.

  She closed the door and shouldered her bag, and we walked together up the path to the front steps of the house.

  “Thanks for the ride,” she said quietly, turning to face me again.

  “You’re welcome,” I managed, but words were hard because every ounce of energy I had was being expended to keep myself in check. I’d known Harper a few short days. We’d played some cards. There was no precedent in the world I could point to as defense if I were to suddenly pull her to me and kiss her.