Chapter 9
nine
Rosalie
After a long yet incredibly fulfilling first week of work, I’m glad it’s finally the weekend, and I have some uninterrupted time to spend with my girl. As I watch her get buckled up in the back seat, I feel an intense sense of gratitude her first week went as well as mine did.
Paige said she met some great friends at camp, and each day when I picked her up, she gave me what felt like a minute-by-minute play-by-play of her day, her voice getting increasingly more excited with each story.
When I hear the telltale click of the buckle, I turn around, putting my truck in reverse and pulling out of the driveway. I still have quite a few things to do before I can feel settled in our new home but first on the list today is new paint for Paige’s room.
“Hey, Paigey, want to call Grandma on our way to the store?”
“Yeah!” she squeals, throwing her arms up in the air with a lot of enthusiasm for nine o’clock in the morning.
Using voice command, I ask my phone to “call mom” and put my truck in drive.
After the second ring, her voice comes through the speakers.
“Hey, honey.” She sounds a bit groggy, but the familiar greeting has my chest squeezing.
I miss her so much. We’ve talked nearly every day since Paige and I arrived in Kentucky.
Even if it’s only minutes at a time, just the sound of her voice and words of encouragement have been enough to keep me going this past week.
“Hey, Mom. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, Rosie. I’m fine. Just waking up for the day,” she says, clearing her throat.
It’s then I realize I haven’t taken into consideration the two-hour time difference, and it’s only seven o’clock in Colorado.
“Oh my gosh, Mom, I completely forgot it’s so early there. I’m so sorry.”
“No, honey, it’s totally fine. I’m always happy to talk to you. Anytime.”
“And me too!” Paige yells from the back seat, as if she’s in the back row of an auditorium, rather than three feet from the phone speaker.
My mom laughs. “Oh, absolutely, Paigey, you too. What are you girls up to today?”
“We’re going to get paint to cover up the puke color in my room,” Paige says with more than a hint of disgust at the current color.
“That should be fun. What color do you want to paint it?”
I laugh because I know what’s coming. There have been lots of conversations over the past week about what is possible and what is not.
“Well, I asked Mom if I could make it rainbow and she told me no,” Paige says with a hint of poutiness peeking through. I make eye contact with her in my rearview mirror and raise an eyebrow.
“But she did tell me I could pick any color of the rainbow,” she adds quickly.
“Well, I’m sure once you get to the paint store you’ll find a fun color you’ll just love. Do you think you’ll get to painting the room today?”
I know this question is directed at me, and although I would love to get everything done this weekend, it’s simply not feasible.
“I might try to start it, but I think we have a few too many things to do. Plus, I promised Paige we wouldn’t do house stuff all weekend. We were thinking about exploring the town and maybe going to a park to play for a bit.”
“Yeah, we saw one with a really big slide on our way home from camp this week.”
“Well, that sounds like a lot of fun,” my mom enthuses. “Make sure your mom takes pictures for me, okay?”
“Okay, Grandma,” Paige says in a business-like tone that says she’s taking this request seriously.
I see the red and white awning of the hardware store a couple of blocks away and jump in to end the phone call so I can focus on finding a parking space. Main Street is busier than I’ve seen it all week, and I don’t want to miss a prime spot.
“Hey, Mom, we’ll send you all the pictures from our day, but we’re almost to the hardware store, so I’m going to let you go.”
“Okay, honey. Have a good day. Love you both so much.”
“Love you, too,” Paige and I say in unison.
I’m lucky and find a parking spot right outside the front door of Hardware Haven. Hopping out of the truck, I move around to the other side to help Paige out of the back seat.
“We’re here!” I say with the level of enthusiasm a parent needs when trying to sell a trip to the hardware store to their seven-year-old daughter.
She’s extra excited to pick out her paint color but has no clue about all the other items I need to make this project happen. I hope I get patient Paige today.
The bell above the door dings, signaling our arrival and we’re greeted by a sweet older man standing behind the counter. “What can I do for you ladies this morning?”
“Good morning! I’m wanting to repaint my daughter’s room, and I’m really hoping you have all the things I need to make that happen,” I say with an optimistic smile, pulling the list my mom gave me over the phone from my pocket and placing it on the counter.
As I do, I realize he likely doesn’t need a list, since I’m pretty sure he knows what’s needed if he works at a hardware store.
I’m mentally face-palming myself when he kindly says, “It looks like you have a good list here, but may I ask what color you are trying to paint over? You may need something substantial if it’s a darker color.”
Before I can answer, Paige pipes up from behind me, “It’s the most ugliest color green I have ever seen! It’s like green and brown had a baby and it threw up all over the walls.”
Mortified, I shake my head and run my hands down my face.
Turning my look of exasperation into a sheepish smile, I rephrase my daughter’s delightful words. “If I had to label it, I might consider it a very bold olive green. Regardless, I can assure you we’ll need all the heavy-duty stuff you have.”
“Great, come with me,” the man says, taking off in front of us and grabbing a small cart before waving for us to follow him through the store. “I’m Bart, by the way,” he says, briefly angling himself toward us as he leads us around.
No sooner has he turned back around, his mission to help us clear, when I hear the snicker from beside me. I look down at Paige.
“What’s given you a case of the giggles?” I ask innocently.
She looks up at me and covers her mouth with the side of her hand like she’s going to tell me a secret before whispering so loud I’m certain everyone in the store can hear, “Bart rhymes with fart.”
I quickly cover her mouth to stifle whatever else might come tumbling out, give her my best mom eyes, and place my finger up to my lips to signal for her to shush.
To his credit, Bart continues down the aisle unfazed, but from somewhere a few aisles over, I hear a deep chuckle, and it sounds oddly familiar.
When I remove my hand from Paige’s mouth, she quietly says, “Sorry,” proving she can actually whisper, and continues beside me with her eyes cast down.
This is not how I wanted to start my day. Arguing with my daughter is quite literally one of the worst things on the planet. It hurts my heart to see her looking so abashed, but I’m her mom, and not every moment can feel like friendship.
As we turn down an aisle stacked with cans upon cans of paint, I try to lighten the mood.
“Okay, Paigey, have you finally decided what color you want to paint your room?”
Misery forgotten, her eyes jump to mine and a big smile takes over her face. “Yes! I want it to be yellow like the sunshine!”
I smile because that color could not be more appropriate for my daughter. She’s my tiny ray of sunshine, bringing brightness to each and every day.
Bart thoughtfully takes in her answer and moves to a row of paint primer. “This is a little on the pricey side, but considering the description of your current color, I think you’ll need it.”
“Sold,” I say as I load two cans into the cart.
Turning to the other side of the aisle that’s covered in paint swatches, I watch Paige carefully consider several shades of yellow before picking out a lighter shade called Weston Flax.
“I want this one, please,” Paige states, proudly handing Bart her choice.
“You got it, young lady,” he says before heading to the mixer to make our paint.
Paige and I continue wandering the aisles collecting everything else on our list. We’ve got just about everything except the rollers I’m currently reaching on my tiptoes to grasp when I hear the same deep chuckle from earlier.
Just as I’m about to whip around to ask whomever he is what’s so funny, there’s heat at my back and a seriously impressive bicep slides into my periphery.
Stunned, I covertly track it up to an equally muscled forearm attached to a hand that has just grabbed the package of rollers I need.
“Excuse me, ma’am, it looks like you could use some help,” the deep voice says in my ear, and I nearly melt because I know that voice.
Cameron, I think, as my skin heats.
He’s crossed my mind more than a few times since my brief run-in with him at the Equine Center this past week, and the revelation that he’s also friends with Elodie had me wondering if that meant I’d be seeing more of him.
However, I purposefully tried to push those thoughts aside, frequently reminding myself I’m not even settled yet.
Hell, most of my belongings are still in boxes.
It doesn’t matter if he’s the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my life or that he has an undeniable boyish charm mixed with serious sex appeal that has my pulse kicking up a few notches at the mere thought of him. A relationship is not in the cards for me right now. But…a friendship, maybe?
When the arm is gone and the heat recedes, I spin around and am met by a familiar pair of stunning green eyes that glitter with amusement.
“Good morning, Rosalie,” he says with a blinding smile that makes me melt even more before I internally berate myself and shake my head, stealing my resolve.
“And good morning to you, Ms. Paige,” he says, looking down at my little girl who is contentedly running her fingers over the bristles on all the paint brushes she can reach.
Looking up briefly, she gives him a quick “Good morning, Mr. Cameron!” before returning to the brushes.
Cameron’s attention moves back to me as he holds out the rollers he just grabbed. Our fingertips brush, and I can’t stop the sharp inhale at the touch. It’s there again, that sizzling feeling between us.
A bit emboldened by the internal friendship line I’ve just drawn in the sand, I respond as playfully as I would with any of my friends from home, “You’re always there to save the day, aren’t you, honey?”
This time his smile is so big it crinkles the corner of his eyes. It’s disarming and unquestionably sexy, and I have the unfortunate thought that lines in the sand can easily be washed away.
“Here you go, Miss,” Bart says as he turns the corner to bring us our paint. “Do you need anything else?”
I hold up both hands, one with the rollers and the other with my shopping list. “I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure I have everything. Thank you so much for all your help.”
“Not a problem at all. I’ll be at the register when you’re ready to check out,” he says, smiling at me and then nodding a greeting to Cameron.
“Morning, Cameron.”
“Morning, Bart. It’s good to see you.”
I give Cameron a quizzical look. There are many small towns in close proximity to Winhaven, so when I saw him at the Equine Center, I didn’t automatically assume Cameron lived here.
But as I start putting together all the information I’ve gathered about Cameron over the past week, I come to only one conclusion.
“You live in Winhaven,” I state simply as he starts, “So, remember when I said I was heading here that night we met?”
The smile on his face is a bit chagrined. “Um, yeah. What I should have mentioned is that I live here, and all things considered, I guess you do, too.”
It’s said with a hint of hopefulness I try to ignore, but my stomach flips anyway.
“Of course you do,” I say with forced exasperation I hope hides my matching excitement.
Clearly, I’m doing a fantastic job of listening to the logical side of my brain screaming friends only.
“And, yes. As you heard the other day, I’m the new veterinarian at Winhaven University Equine Center, and we live in town.
We’re actually renting one of Elodie’s properties. ”
“Good to know,” he says, rubbing his hand across his jaw. “She’s one of the best.”
“She really is, and she’s made the transition here so much easier for Paige and me.”
“That’s great, Rosalie. Especially since your trip here was a bit more eventful than you anticipated.” Cameron’s smile has softened, and his earnest gaze fills me with warmth.
“Hey, Mommy,” I hear from below. “Can we go now?”
Paige’s voice startles me, and I’m embarrassed to admit I was so engrossed in my conversation with Cameron I briefly forgot she was here playing with the brushes. See, Rosalie, this is why being only friends is the best option for you right now.
Glancing down, I respond, “Yeah, Paigey. I think we’ve got everything we need.”
I look back up at Cameron, ready to say goodbye, but the look on his face has turned serious, causing a feeling of concern and confusion to stir in my belly. He gestures down to my hand. “I think you actually forgot to check something off your list.”
Looking down, I realize he’s gesturing to my shopping list—the one with his phone number written on the back.
Relieved, I play along with his statement. “Is that so?” I make a big show of looking at the list and checking off each item with the tip of my finger. “Nope, it looks like I’ve got everything I need,” I say with an air of nonchalance and meet his eyes with a smirk.
He steps closer, invading my space, and the air around us stills.
He reaches down, softly grasping my wrist and turning it so the receipt flips and his phone number is showing.
“No, Rosalie, I don’t think you have everything you need.
” And, with that, he turns and walks down the aisle, leaving me stunned and speechless.