Chapter 21
Cameron
I’ve found three new best friends: alcohol, my couch, and Netflix. Luckily for me, all three don’t seem to mind fighting for the role of “bestie.”
I can’t remember the last time I binge-watched so many seasons of one show.
Possibly never. Before working at Whispering Tide, when I was bored, TV wasn’t my go-to remedy.
Now, when I’m not working—if you can call it that—I’m on my couch, in comfy clothes, vegging out, bingeing whatever Netflix chooses for me.
I started with Breaking Bad, watching all sixty-plus episodes in a weekend.
I should get some kind of medal for that.
It took commitment, dedication, and becoming one with my couch and delivery drivers.
When that was over, Netflix suggested something else, starting it without me clicking on it. Before I knew it, bam, I was hooked. Can’t tell you the name or what it’s remotely about.
Unfortunately, I had to get up on Monday for work, putting a real damper on my life. Not only did I have to stop watching TV, but I also had to shower and put on real clothes.
I’m grateful most of the recreation at the resort is a smooth sailing ship.
Sure, I have to show my face every day, but I’ve oiled the machine regularly enough, it runs well without me.
The other guys clarified that because it does, doesn’t mean it should.
In their position, I’d say the same thing if one of them were acting the way I was.
But can you blame me? My heart’s shattered into tiny pieces.
I’ve tried forgetting Juli, but it’s nearly impossible.
We spent so much time at the resort, memories of her show up everywhere.
“Earth to Cameron.” On my rounds today, I ended up at the concierge desk, and Keoni is currently trying to get my attention. His blue and white Hawaiian shirt does little to cheer me up.
“What?” Dialing back my attitude, I try again. “Sorry. What can I help you with?”
“There’s a couple who want some help booking a boat tour. They’ll be down in about five minutes.”
“Right. I’ll put my game face on.”
“That would be helpful. Don’t want to scare away the guests with your ugly mug lately. Want to talk about it?” My eyes shoot lasers at him. “If I don’t keep asking, it will seem like I don’t care. And I don’t want rumors to be flying that I don’t care.”
Spotting a couple heading our way, I spout, “Wouldn’t want that to happen. Your concern is noted.” I tamp down every thought unrelated to Whispering Tide as I approach. “Hi, I’m Cameron. What can I help you with?”
“My wife and I would like to take a boat tour around the islands. Nothing too small. She’s going to need room to get up and walk around. She doesn’t do well with sitting for long periods of time.”
Judgment aside, I grin. “I can help you with that. Let me grab a laptop, and I’ll meet you over there.” I point to the empty tables across the lobby.
“Great.” It’s the wife who answers.
I secure a laptop from the cart and stride over, assessing them on the way. Prices at Whispering Tide aren’t cheap, and we get all kinds of rich clients. These two stand out in shorts and a skirt paired with graphic T-shirts. As I get closer, I can read the shirt—Murrtham’s Tree Farm.
He’s got at least ten years on me, if I had to guess, and she seems younger than him by a few years.
“What day were you looking at?”
“It doesn’t matter. We’re here until Thursday. Any day there’s an opening.”
I pull up the schedule for the marina. “Where are you joining us from?”
“Oregon.”
“Wow. Far.”
“Too far. He didn’t listen when I suggested Hawaii. But since he’s the one footing the bill, I couldn’t argue too much.”
“Right. So all those complaints about the length of the flight wasn’t you ‘arguing’?”
She rolls her eyes. Damn, she’s spunky. “That was me voicing my opinion about how much I can’t stand to travel. Something you somehow magically forget every time you get grand ideas to take a vacation.”
I can’t help laughing, and when I try to cover it up, it comes out more like a snort. “Sorry.”
“Don’t mind her. She hasn’t had her nap today.
The combination of traveling and lack of sleep makes my wife a bit of a crab.
She can’t help it, and better yet, I still love her.
” It seems like an odd comment to make, but surprisingly, the wife looks up at him adoringly.
Even when he adds, “Flights to Hawaii are comparable to South Carolina.”
I want that.
To have my woman look at me like that, even if I’m poking fun at her.
And by “my woman,” I mean Juliana.
“How long have you been married?” It’s not my business in the slightest, but I hope they take it as mere small talk. Getting to know the guests at the resort a little better.
“We’re celebrating our tenth anniversary.”
“Congrats.” I turn to the woman. “Another reason you’d want to go to Hawaii.”
“See, Jacks? Even this stranger agrees.” She swats his chest, but he barely moves.
I can’t help but laugh at their repertoire, their level of comfort with each other.
“Thanks, man. Now she’ll be harping on me even more about my choice of location. Which, by the way, you should sell us on more, since we’re here and all.” His eyes narrow, less in anger and more in mischief.
“You’ll love Whispering Tide. It’s not Hawaii.” Not that I’ve ever been to Hawaii to compare, but our little resort in Magnolia Cay, South Carolina, surely can’t compare with resorts in Waikiki or Honolulu. “And if you encounter any problems, please let us know, and we’ll make it right.”
“Jackson will be sure to complain if there’s an issue,” the wife observes.
The guy seems laid-back as all heck, though the rock on her finger is on par with the clientele here.
“Make sure you ask for Silas for any issues. He’ll make things right.” He’ll be pissed as hell at me, but he’s getting my wrath today. I focus back on the screen, noting the days and times for the cruise. “Tuesday looks like the best day weather-wise. Morning or afternoon?”
“Morning, please.”
My fingers click through the reservations. “It’s about a ninety minute ride. Ferries/cruises leave on the hour. It’s pretty open.”
“Ten sounds good. Won’t have to rush breakfast.”
The woman groans. “Um, that’s like seven a.m. our time. That’s kind of early.”
“Noon suit your fancy better?”
She goes to disagree but thinks better of it by his look. “Perfect.”
“If you can hold off lunch, try the Lowcountry Tasting Room. It’s an excellent choice for local food.”
“What desserts do they serve?”
I think he’s kidding, though his expression is lit up like a Christmas tree. Ironic metaphor given his attire.
“He’s serious. Not that it will matter what you say. He’s never met a dessert he doesn’t like.”
“Right. But I’m still not exactly sure. I don’t think of that place for desserts. Just food.”
I’m momentarily distracted by a commotion at the door.
What I see takes my breath away.
I’m out of my seat before realizing what’s happening. Totally forgetting I’m in the middle of doing something for a resort guest, I stride purposefully to the door. Juliana gasps as she sees me coming, her bag on her arm dropping haphazardly to the floor.
In the brief time I take to cross the lobby, my heart beats loudly, my pulse quickens to a marathon pace. Part of me thinks she might be a mirage, that I’m seeing things, as if my imagination willed her here. Because I miss her like crazy. More than I ever thought possible to miss someone.
“Cameron,” she squeaks as I approach.
“It wasn’t casual. Not a fling. Not for me. I knew it then, but I know it more now.” The words flow from my mouth with a buried confidence.
“But does it change anything?” she asks, her voice timid, hesitant.
My fingers find her chin, tipping her head up to look at me. Uncertainty whirls in her sandy brown gaze, but once locked with mine, the doubts fall away. The “we could never work.” The “you deserve a better man than me.” Fuck that noise. Me, Cameron Fairbanks. I’m the best man for her.
It’s about damn time I let her know it.
“Everything. It changes everything.”
I don’t allow her to process it for even a second.
My mouth covers hers, swallowing her surprise.
Fingers sliding to the back of her neck, I tug her head closer to mine, to devour her lips, her mouth I’ve almost forgotten how good it is to kiss.
The reminder isn’t subtle at all. Juli returns the kiss with hunger, excitement, yearning.
So lost in her, I completely forget where I am. Who’s around. That I’m on the clock.
When I pull away, she seems more stunned, a look I have to squash immediately.
“We’ve got a lot to discuss.”
“A lot,” she agrees, her features softening.
“I’m supposed to be working.” I hike my hand over my shoulder before full realization settles in.
“Oh, shit.” I dash away, back to the table where the guests are still sitting.
Apologizing profusely, I start with, “I’m so sorry.
That was totally unprofessional of me. Please let me make it up to you.
When we’re done, I’ll grab you vouchers for dinner, which will cover extra dessert for my error. ”
Heat creeps up my cheeks as I speak. I’m more embarrassed than ever. I can’t believe I got up in the middle of a meeting with guests, but more than that, I kissed the hell out of a woman, someone who appears to be another guest. What the hell got into me?
Juliana Langley.
I’ve never let a woman get so under my skin. Even when we were teenagers, I had a better handle on my emotions and my body’s response to her. Except for the one time in the pool house . . .
I am making the worst impression on these guests, who are sitting and staring at me, a smirk on the guy’s face.
Jackson. I think that was his name.
“It’s okay, man. Been there.”
A bit of worry uncoils within me with his one comment, but I can’t let go of it all. I’ll have to make it up to them.
And get through the rest of the day.