Chapter 9
How was Cami going to tell Ben? She wasn’t going to buy the inn. After convincing him to sell it to her. She parked next to his truck and glanced up at the restaurant—Angelo’s. It was becoming a thing.
She’d waited a day to see if Dad would change his mind, but when he hadn’t, she’d called Ben and asked to meet for dinner.
She’d tossed and turned all night. What was behind Dad’s soft, emotional, humble please? It had nothing to do with the inn’s ROI. Cami guessed it had everything to do with Mama.
The turmoil had also diminished her memories of Ben. She couldn’t remember the taste of his kiss. After she gave him the news, he’d probably never kiss her again.
Did she want the inn? Yes. But Dad had stood in her office and asked her to let this deal go. Please.
She heard, even felt, the tenor of his voice every time she thought of it. Since she could count on one hand the number of times Dad had asked her for something, she would rescind the offer without further delay. Ben would just have to understand.
Cami glanced down at her Jimmy Choos, straightened her pencil skirt, and touched her hair. Smile in place, she headed inside Angelo’s.
The cool, dim restaurant had a date-night feel. The string quartet played in the corner, and two couples danced on the open floor. The comforting scents of fresh Italian food filled the air.
Ben waved to her from the back booth—their booth. He stood and smiled as she approached, brushing his lips against her cheek. Her skin warmed under his touch, and she lingered to inhale his clean, soapy scent.
“You look beautiful.” Ben gestured toward the table. “Professional.”
“Came from work.”
“You sounded like you had something on your mind when you called.”
“Yeah, I do.” The server arrived with a glass of sweet tea for Cami.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I ordered a large pepperoni pizza, extra pepperoni, for us and sweet teas. But we can knock the work stuff out and then just be us.”
Just be us. There might not be any “us” after she told him she couldn’t buy the inn. Would he think she’d been toying with him?
Ben reached for a folder sitting next to him on the bench and slid it across the table. His eyebrows lifted as he smirked. “I didn’t need forty-eight hours to sign the contract. Signed them the moment you sent them.”
“You’ll never let me live that down, will you?”
“A woman who can imitate The Godfather? No, I don’t think I will.”
Cami reached for the folder and opened it to see Ben’s signature scrolled on the bottom of the paper.
“I am glad you’ll be the one to take the inn.
It was a hard decision to sell, but when you told me your vision of a retreat for artists and families, I knew you would carry on my grandparents’ tradition.
Makes the decision bearable.” Ben reached across the table for Cami’s hand.
“I’m glad you’re the one behind the deal. ”
His blue eyes held her captive. The feeling his kiss had left on her cheek faded. She pulled her hand back. “That’s just it, Ben. I can—”
“One large extra-pepperoni pizza.” The server set a steaming pizza on the table, forcing Ben and Cami to lean back. The scents of melted cheese, spicy pepperoni, and garlic filled the air.
“Good timing. We were just finished with our business for the night. Now we celebrate and relax.”
“I’ll be back with more sweet tea,” the waiter said. “Bon appétit.”
Ben plated a slice of pizza for her, then one for himself. Steam lifted off the melting cheese, and the delicious aroma made her stomach growl. She’d been too stressed about this dinner to eat lunch.
“So, what else is new?” Ben said, taking a big bite of his slice. “How’s Indy going? If you have time this weekend, I can show you around the inn with the eye of the owner instead of as a potential buyer.”
Tell him.
“Can you come up Thursday evening?” When he looked at her, the candlelight danced in his eyes. “The drive-in is showing Grease.”
“Um, Grease? Sure.” Stop stalling. Tell him.
But being with Ben was so easy. They talked about the upcoming college football season, the Titans, the latest Hearts Bend news. But the impending conversation hung over her head and distracted her.
When the waiter cleared away the pizza, Ben led Cami to the dance floor. She slid her hand into his—the hand of a man who did funny things to her heart.
He held her close and moved her in a slow, easy sway, his chest a wall under her hand. His cheek rested against hers, and he hummed along with the quartet.
Just be, Cami. She closed her eyes, shutting out any protest, any fear, any worry of what was to come, and enjoyed this dance, this moment, this man.
“Cami,” he said, “I hate to bring us back to reality, but now that I’ve sold the inn, I’m leaving for Sydney Friday. I’ll be gone two weeks. I’ll come back to sign the final papers. Then it’s Down Under for good.”
“We knew this moment was coming.”
“Doesn’t make it easier.” He peered into her eyes. “You started to say something just as the pizza arrived. What was it?”
“Did I?” He looked so happy, so content.
He was about to embark on a long journey with a heavy-duty job ahead of him.
Why not keep the news until he got back?
It wouldn’t change much in the long run.
Besides, she loved this moment, being in his arms, turning to the music.
Yes, the news could wait. “I can’t remember. Must not have been important.”
She placed her head on his chest. The steady beat of his heart was in tune with hers. Ben rested his cheek on her head. In his arms, she felt like she’d found a piece of herself she hadn’t known was missing.
“Cami,” he said, “I might want this to last.”
Leaning back slightly, she searched his eyes and pressed her hand against his cheek.
His lips brushed hers, and she swooned at his gentle caress.
“How can this last, Ben?” Was there a possibility of a future for them? Did they have a love that could last? “Our paths are literally on different hemispheres.”
“You and your realities.” Ben kissed the top of her head. “No more talk about work or about different paths. Let’s just enjoy tonight.”
“Agreed.” See, she couldn’t tell him. They’d just agreed not to talk about work, and she was a woman of her word.
“I need your signature.” Jordan handed Ben an iPad as he crossed the marble and steel lobby toward the manager’s office.
Ben had been in Sydney one week, and he’d fallen into an easy routine.
He missed the unpredictability of the schedule he’d kept in Hearts Bend, and the time difference made talking with Cami tricky.
The engineers had just connected the lobby fountain, and the crew was now serenaded by bubbling water. Light flooded the space from the domed ceiling, and the Emerald had a “lost in paradise” tropical feel.
It had been Ben’s idea to give the Emerald’s front entrance a lush, tropical garden ambiance, and so far, they were on track for a world-class lobby.
“What am I signing?” Ben said as he scribbled his name. “Please tell me this is for the towels.”
“And the tablecloths. The lads are unloading the crates now. We’ll have them laundered by the end of the week.”
Ben and Jordan headed in different directions at Ben’s office. Sitting at his neat, orderly desk that had no pictures of the people he loved, he kicked off his leather shoes. He missed his sneakers and work boots at the inn.
He missed Hearts Bend, and keeping in touch with Cami was hard, seeing as they were in radically different time zones. They kept up a running text conversation, but the reality of keeping a relationship going with Cami faded by the moment.
Ben grabbed a bottle of Mount Franklin water and returned to his desk. Taking a long swig, he reviewed the checklist on his screen.
Lobby paintings were hung and the wall texture complete. The commissioned sculpture by a local artist was due at the end of the week. The lighting was installed, and tonight they would test the light board for effects.
A group from Hong Kong had toured the Emerald this morning and signed a contract to begin the Jade Resort and Spa in the next two years. There was a dinner to celebrate in a half hour.
Jim had been impressed with the Hong Kong success. He’d clapped Ben on the shoulder after they left.
I wasn’t sure you were keeping on top of things while in that Podunk town, but you’ve proved me wrong. Well done.
Ben had turned the praise around on Jordan. He couldn’t have done any of this without him.
Another pass over the checklist, and Ben swirled his chair to look out over the harbor.
The Opera House reflected on the water as a sailboat floated by.
He’d been dreaming of this view since he’d gotten the assignment, but now that he was here, he missed the quiet garden and green fields outside the inn’s office window.
And this fancy, expensive office chair was not near as comfortable as Granddaddy’s old leather squeaker. Maybe he’d have the chair shipped over. And pack the picture of Granny and Granddaddy that sat on the desk.
Cami wouldn’t mind. Though, she’d hire a manager who would probably bring in an ergonomic chair or even a yoga ball.
He slid open the window and breathed in the saline air of the harbor. But oh, he missed the fresh Tennessee air, the scent of the grass after a rainstorm. He even missed Myrtle May’s off-key singing, and Bart trailing after her.
But what he missed more than anything? The feel of Cami in his arms and her sweet sigh after he kissed her.
But he had no time to dream of a woman thousands of miles away. He had just enough time for a quick nap before dinner. A week in Sydney and he was still jet-lagged.
He moved to the office couch and stretched out. He’d just started to drift off when his phone buzzed. He grinned. Another text from Myrtle May.
Walt made tuna again. Whole place smells like onions. It’s gross. But the Collinses checked in and raved about the scent of lunch. I think they’re aliens.