Editor's Choice Volume I - Slow summer Kisses, Kilts & kraken, Negotiating point (21 page)

Before she could say anything else, he went back into his house—still dripping—and closed the door in a rather emphatic way.

Screw him, she thought as she picked her way over the uneven ground in her stupid wedge sandals. She wasn’t letting her neighbor’s crappy attitude spoil what this summer was about—rest, relaxation and reimagining her future.

Step one was microwaving a frozen pizza. It was a hell of a start.

* * *

Cam stared at his ceiling, mentally rehearsing the telephone call he’d have to make very soon.
Hey, Jim, you know how you asked me to keep an eye on your granddaughter? I had to kill her instead. Sorry about that.

It was 7:22 on a Sunday morning and he was awake, thanks to the music. He wasn’t opposed to music, of course. Sitting on the dock with a line in the water and some country tunes in the background was one of his favorite things in life and sometimes there would be a party at one of the camps around the lake and the music would echo over the water. But high-energy, bass-thumping dance club music at the crack of dawn on a Sunday was not only rude, but grounds for a dunking, as far as he was concerned.

He let himself imagine that for a few seconds—storming next door, carrying her down to the lake and throwing her off the end of the dock. Her imaginary screams were almost enough to make him smile.

An image of her emerging from the water with that shimmery top clinging to her breasts ambushed him, though. He could tell, even when her shirt was dry, they were damn near the perfect size for cupping in his hands. That led him to wonder if her nipples were sensitive because his hands were rough from working, since he hated wearing leather gloves in the summer, and the abrasion might be too much.

“Stupid son of a bitch.” He threw back the sheet and swung his feet to the floor. If how he’d gone from strangling her to worrying about his hands being to rough for her sensitive skin was a sign of just how crazy Anna Frazier was going to make him, it was going to be a long summer.

After hitting the john and throwing on some clothes, Cam shoved his feet into sneakers and went out the door. He marched up her front porch and pounded on the door harder than was probably necessary, but he wanted to make sure she heard it over the damn music.

When she pulled open the door, he couldn’t believe it. Hair flawless, face made up and another perfect little outfit. Her sandals had a low heel today, but some kind of shiny stones decorated the straps. “Good morning, Cam. Are you ready?”

“Ready for what? A freakin’ party?”

“What party? I thought we were going shopping.”

He took a deep breath, not that he thought it would help. “It’s seven-thirty in the morning, Anna. Even if the stores were open yet, which they’re not because it’s Sunday, blasting that shit music is rude. People come to Askaskwi Lake to relax. They’re on vacation and nobody who’s on vacation likes the neighborhood sounding like a dance club at the crack of dawn.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t even thinking about it being the weekend. Hopefully, the other camps are too far away for the music to disturb them.”

“It disturbed
me.
”

“And, again, I’m sorry.” She did look sorry for a few seconds, but then the corners of that delicious mouth tilted up. “Although, you’re not on vacation.”

“That’s not the point.” She’d figure out the point when her CD player was in the lake if she did it again. “What time did you get up?”

“Five. I always get up at five so I can work out and get my list ready for the day. I’ve already gotten quite a bit done this morning, but that’s probably because of the coffee and doughnuts. I’ve been trying to stick to decaf and cut out a lot of sugar because my stomach’s been a mess lately, so hello caffeine, sugar and carbs!”

So she was so intense she’d given herself an ulcer and now she was going to work on giving him one, too. “Make sure decaf’s on the list, then, because I’m going to be a lot less friendly if I wake up to this crap again.”

She just stared at him through the screen door for a few seconds, and then she laughed. “Less friendly? How would you do that, exactly? Carry an axe?”

“I gave you food.”

“I appreciated those ninety-nine cent frozen microwave pizzas, but what’s the matter with my music?”

“It sucks.”

She rolled her eyes. “What do you listen to?”

“Country.”

“There’s a surprise.” He wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but he knew it wasn’t meant to be flattering. “Music helps me set my tempo for the day, so I want it to be fast and upbeat. Starting off my day listening to some guy croon about how sexy his pick-up truck is isn’t going to get my blood pumping.”

Cam’s blood was pumping. He could feel it throbbing in his temples. “Quiet hours are from 9:00 p.m. to 8:00 a.m. most of the week and 9:00 a.m. on Sunday mornings.”

“Oh, really? Is there an association rulebook I missed?”

“It’s my rule and I enforce it myself. If I wake up to that shit again, your sound system’s going in the lake and, if you squawk, you’ll go in, too.” He started to walk away, then muttered a few robust curses under his breath. “Be ready to go in a half hour. And I’m stopping for breakfast on the way.”

Chapter Two

Anna’s first lesson of the day—don’t wake up the cranky neighbor—was quickly followed by her second. White capris and pick-ups weren’t a match made in fashion heaven. Cam had moved a pile of papers and junk out of the passenger seat and even made a half-assed attempt at wiping off the seat, but she could tell she was going to look like she’d stopped to play in the dirt before the ride was over.

She knew better than to complain, though. Cam would probably reach over and open her door, then swerve hard and watch her tumble out. He certainly hadn’t spoken to her since pulling out of his driveway. He’d just turned the radio up and sung along to a song about a farmer’s daughter in a voice that wasn’t great, but didn’t make her want to cover her ears, either.

Four or five songs later, he turned into the parking lot for an old-fashioned diner—complete with silver dining car attached to the front—and killed the engine before looking over at her. “Decaf or you walk home.”

If she didn’t feel bad about her music waking him up early on a Sunday, she’d tell him where he could shove his attitude. But, since some of that attitude was her fault, she kept her mouth shut and got out of the truck. He held the restaurant door open for her in a surprising show of manners and then waited until she’d slid into the booth before sitting on the other side.

“Coffee for me and decaf for the lady,” he told the waitress who appeared with menus.

Choosing to ignore the fact he’d ordered for her, an act that would have signaled the beginning of the end if they’d been dating, Anna opened her menu and tried not to let her eyes be bigger than her stomach. It was bad enough she’d be idle for a while. If she started shoveling down the biscuits and gravy, it wouldn’t be long before she didn’t fit in her suits anymore.

They both read their menus in silence, so when the waitress returned with the coffees, they were ready to order. Cam ordered something called the Outdoors Special, which came with pancakes and eggs, along with home fries, two slices of bacon and two links of sausage. Somehow an egg-white omelet with no toast and a small orange juice lost its appeal.

“I’ll have the biscuits and sausage gravy. And a side of home fries.” If she was going to dietary hell, she was going in style.

Once they were alone again, it took about thirty seconds for the silence to become oppressive, so she put on her best
dealing with a difficult client
face and took the plunge. “So, how long have you lived on the lake full time?”

“About four years.”

“Do you see my grandparents a lot?”

For some reason that question seemed to relax him a little. “Not much anymore. They only came up a couple of times last summer because of Betty’s hip replacement.”

“She’s doing really well now. I stayed with them for a few days before I came up and I was amazed by how well she’s getting around now. Maybe they’ll use it more this summer.”

“They didn’t mention coming up anytime soon when I talked to them.”

“When was that?”

“Couple weeks ago, when Jim called to warn me you were coming.”

She laughed at his choice of words. “I doubt he was
warning
you.”

“He should have.” But he smiled when he said it. “So tell me, Anna, what brings you back to Askaskwi Lake after all these years?”

“My position was cut. They only needed one of us and Peter was engaged to one of the presidents’ daughter, so he got to stay. Nobody else jumped at the chance to get me and my apartment was outrageously expensive and…well, it didn’t take long for the stress to start impacting my health so Betty gave me a stern talking to and here I am.”

“Being unemployed is pretty stressful.”

She shrugged. “Yes, it is. But I recognized the writing on the financial wall and got out from under the apartment before it devoured my savings and I got a nice severance package. My costs here will be minimal, so I can relax and focus on finding a new position away from the insanity of the city.”

“Getting up at five in the morning to work out isn’t relaxing.”

“So I can
learn
to relax, then. Better?”

Cam leaned back and stretched his arm across the back of the booth. “You were never relaxed, even as a little kid. So, no husband or kids in the picture?”

“I had those penciled in to think about in a couple more years.” They both laughed. “How about you?”

“Nope.”

He didn’t seem inclined to offer any more than that, so she shifted topics. “What do you do for work?”

“Mostly carpentry and roofing, but I do a little bit of everything. I keep an eye on most of the camps around the lake and do whatever odd jobs around town need doing.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “That’s funny coming from somebody who had a high-stress job in New York City.”

“Not the work so much as the worrying. Don’t you get stressed, wondering what the next job will be or what you’ll do if nobody needs anything done for a while?”

“Not really. I have some savings and four years later, I’m still doing okay enough so I can spot my neighbor a frozen pizza or two.”

The waitress came over carrying a large tray, which was probably necessary since they’d ordered literally platefuls of food, and the conversation died while they salted and peppered and, in Cam’s case, added a huge dollop of ketchup to his eggs and syrup to his pancakes. The waitress refilled their coffees, so Anna added more cream and sugar to her decaf and then settled in to gain a few pounds.

* * *

Cam dropped into his chair with a sigh and debated on whether or not he wanted to catch a fish. Fishing generally relaxed him but, if he dropped a line in the water, he’d have to stay awake and he wasn’t sure he’d manage it. Anna Frazier had exhausted him.

Screw the fishing. Ignoring the pole he’d set down beside his chair, he pulled his ball cap a little farther down over his eyes and leaned back, for once wishing he had one of those portable loungers. He was mostly a purist when it came to his chairs. Most of the people around the lake had fancy Adirondack chairs and gliders and wrought-iron furniture. If they had portable chairs, they were the collapsible canvas ones.

But Cam had one of those aluminum folding chairs with the back and seat made out of cheap plastic webbing. They weren’t pretty, but they were light and comfortable and he liked them. Probably not the best choice for napping, though.

When they’d gotten to the store—not the local market, but the big grocery store more than twenty minutes from home—he’d had to bite his tongue when she pulled her grocery list up on her phone and started scrolling through it. And scrolling and scrolling and scrolling. She’d bought enough food so the entire population could survive the apocalypse if they could make it to the Frazier camp but, when he complained, she said he should be pleased because she wouldn’t have to ask him for any more favors anytime soon.

He’d lost count of the grocery bags he’d carried from his truck to her kitchen and, as soon as the last one was in, he’d gotten the hell out of there. He had better things to do than help her alphabetize her soup cans. Like sitting on his dock.

About an hour later, he heard footsteps on the dock behind him and kissed his solitude goodbye. He’d thought it would take longer to put all those groceries away.

“What are you doing?” she asked, standing over him. He could only see her from the knees down because of the hat, but that was okay.

“Sitting on my dock.”

“Our dock. Why are you sitting on our dock doing nothing?”

“Because that’s what I do on Sundays. I sit on the dock.”

“Don’t you get bored?”

“Nope.”

He thought—or hoped—she’d go away, but she stepped out of her sandals, sat on the end of the dock and stuck her feet in the water.

Then she made a strangled squeaking sound. “Holy crap, that’s cold.”

“Give it a minute and you’ll get used to it.”

“I think that’s called early hypothermia.”

“You used to love being in the lake. You’d be shivering, with your skin all pruned up and your lips blue, but still begging your mom for five more minutes.”

She laughed, swirling the water with her feet. “You were right there next to me.”

“That was a long time ago,” he said, not wanting to travel too far down Memory Lane. Those had been really happy years, but sometimes dwelling on the great times he’d had with his dad left him feeling blue and if he opened that door to Anna, she’d probably never shut up about it.

“I’m bored.”

He hoped the growling sound he made was just in his head. “Then go find something to do.”

“This would be a good place to knit. Several people have recommended I take up knitting because it’s relaxing and good for the blood pressure, but I haven’t had time to learn. Maybe I should do that. I could sit here and knit a scarf or something.”

“You should have thought of that
before
we went to the store.”

She shrugged. “I’ll order the stuff online.”

He wanted to suggest she go do it right that very second, but he reminded himself just in time Anna hadn’t come to the lake just to annoy him. She was supposed to be learning how to relax because her health was suffering and—pain in the ass or not—that trumped his desire to be left alone.

“The library in town isn’t very big,” he told her, “but they have a knitting club. Not sure which afternoon it is, but you could call and ask. They do it after school hours so they can help the kids learn to knit, so I’m sure they’d help you.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea!” She pulled her feet out of the water and stood, scooping up her shoes on the way. “I’ll go add that to my list of calls to make this week. And I need to make a list of the basic supplies I’ll need and get them ordered.”

She was still listing off things she needed to add as she walked away and Cam shook his head. So much for knitting relaxing her. He was beginning to suspect the only thing that would relax Anna were a couple of Valium with a whiskey chaser.

Cam closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of the warm sun seeping into him while the light breeze kept him from being too hot. He might have dozed off and on, but it didn’t matter. He had nowhere to be and nothing better to do.

Not too many years before, he’d been a lot like Anna, except he’d been married. He’d been following in his dad’s footsteps—working himself into the ground trying to get ahead in the world. It was like stepping into a gerbil wheel and the faster you went, the faster you had to go to not go tumbling down. The more money he made, the more money they spent and the more money he had to make to sustain.

Losing his dad to a heart attack had been a giant caution flag waving in front of his face. Then there were his own demons—insomnia, blood pressure, funks that weren’t quite depression but were getting close. He’d talked to his wife about downsizing. He wanted to leave his fancy law firm and maybe do some family law. They could buy a smaller house in a more rural neighborhood. She’d gotten angry and went shoe shopping.

He’d walked away. Gave his ex-wife everything, kissed his teary-eyed mother on the cheek and took up residence in the family camp on Askaskwi Lake. His father had loved the place but in the years before his death, he hadn’t had time to visit and the camp was bordering on neglect. Cam brought it back—insulating and rehabbing it without losing its summer cottage charm.

Maybe that was part of the reason Anna got under his skin. She reminded him too much of the man he’d been and didn’t ever want to be again. That, and she made him itch for a woman’s company. He wasn’t exactly a hermit and he dated some, but women seemed to think his lifestyle was a bachelor thing and, once they hooked him, he’d grow up and buy them a house and get a real job. When they realized what they saw was what they were actually going to get, they moved on. But Anna made him think about sex, which made him
want
sex and now he was unsettled.

He got up, folded his chair and grabbed his fishing pole to head back to the house. Time to stretch out on the couch and pretend to watch TV for a while.

He made the mistake of looking to the left, though, and saw Anna on the back deck. She was focused on her phone—probably researching the most efficient way to learn to knit—but it was the pacing that made Cam change course. Back and forth in a quick, tight pattern she probably wasn’t even aware of.

Of course, that made him notice the deck furniture was still in the storage shed and that was one more thing he’d have to do for her. The Adirondack chairs would be too heavy for her to move alone.

Anna looked up when he walked up the steps and stopped the incessant pacing. He snapped his favorite folding chair open, set it behind her and pointed. “Sit.”

She sat. Since she didn’t argue with him, he turned and went back down the steps.

“Thank you,” she called, and he just lifted a hand and kept on walking.

* * *

She was going to need a bigger refrigerator. Anna faced the appliance with her hands on her hips, scowling at the sheets of paper being held up by her grandmother’s substantial magnet collection.

Her list of things she forgot to put on her first shopping list was under a small, silver spoon from West Virginia. A purple pig held the list of things she wanted to get done around the camp, while the status of her job search and the companies she needed to follow up with was pinned by a ceramic version of the Collie named Misty that Gram and Gramps had when Anna was little. Her knitting research notes were held up by a pewter keepsake from Nova Scotia and a list of phone numbers by a plastic snowflake. And under a variety of others were scraps of paper on which she was noting personal goals for herself.

Her gaze caught on one—scribbled on the back of a receipt on the way back from the grocery store.
Learn to drive a car.

That one was a lot more daunting than cutting caffeine from her diet or getting her blood pressure back into a healthy range. As a matter of fact, she was pretty sure learning to drive wasn’t going to do her blood pressure any favors. But she wasn’t in New York City anymore and getting from point
A
to point
B
was a lot more complicated here.