Chapter 16
Cami
Our drive back is a blur of quiet smiles, lingering glances, and fingers laced between us, an unspoken current thrumming beneath the surface.
Resting my head against the window, the low drone of tires and ambient radio static lulls me into something dangerously close to bliss.
Is this the night we take the next step?
Because every part of me wants to. Heart. Body. Soul.
Streetlights flicker past in gold-tinted blinks.
A late-night jogger. A couple walking their dog.
For a moment, Crystal Cove feels like home. Our home.
I let my gaze drift to Knox, watching him in the sweep of passing light, committing the sharp, perfect lines of his face to memory.
As we turn onto our street, he slows, brows pinching. “Whose car is that?”
My eyes follow his, landing on a silver sedan parked in Ms. Palmer’s driveway.
“I don’t know,” I say quietly. “And I definitely didn’t leave any lights on when we left.”
Knox eases into his driveway and cuts the engine, the moment suddenly still.
We both stare at Ms. Palmer’s house, its windows glowing like a welcome—or a warning.
“When is Millie—Ms. Palmer—supposed to come back?” he asks, scrubbing a hand over his jaw.
“End of August. Or at least that’s how long I’m supposed to be house-sitting.”
“She can’t be back already,” he says, brows drawing together. “Can she?”
I shake my head, throat suddenly too tight to answer.
“Come on. Let’s check it out.” He gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “Burglars don’t turn lights on.”
Fingers tightening around his, I glance toward the kitten carrier in the backseat, two tiny shapes curled in sleep, safe and unaware.
Knox follows my gaze. “They’ll be out for at least a couple of hours.”
I nod once. “Okay.”
Gravel crunches beneath our steps as we cross the driveway, the night air thick with jasmine and sea salt.
My pulse quickens with each step, uncertainty prickling across my skin like static.
A burst of laughter, high-pitched and playful, drifts from the house as we reach the porch steps.
“Doesn’t sound like burglars.” Knox winks.
“No,” I whisper. “Must be pirates.”
We climb the porch steps slowly, each creak of wood echoing louder than the last. Before we reach the door, it swings open with a cheerful groan.
A woman steps out, tanned, silver hair twisted into a loose knot, a wineglass dangling from her fingers.
Her eyes land on me first, warm and curious.
“You must be Paxton,” she says with a smile. “I’m Millie Palmer.”
“Oh—hi! I’m actually Cami. I–I was stepping in for my friend Paxton? I’ve been watching your house while you were away. Just got back from Art in the Park.”
Her brows lift. “Well, no wonder we couldn’t find you when we got here. Been wandering around thinking you’d vanished.”
Her gaze shifts. Then softens. “Knox?”
He straightens. “Hello, Millie. It’s been a while.”
“Too long,” she says, clearly pleased. “You and that jawline are still as handsome as ever, I see.”
Knox’s grin twitches. “Thanks…I think.”
“Well, don’t just stand there. Get in here, both of you. We’ve got sangria, snacks, and gossip. In that order.”
Inside, the house hums as though it had been holding its breath until Millie Palmer’s return.
Two women sit at the round kitchen table, wineglasses in hand, faces lit with curiosity.
They look like trouble in the best way. One wears a sequined visor—the other, reading glasses dangling from a rhinestone chain.
“Those are my roommates and travel buddies. Elena in the visor and Margo with the sparkle specs,” Millie says.
Both women lift their glasses in greeting like Knox and I have just passed some sort of initiation.
Millie motions for us to take a seat, and Knox pulls out my chair before sliding into the one beside me.
“Tropical storm hit the Pacific side earlier than expected,” she explains, pouring us each a glass of strawberry sangria. “So the girls and I packed up early. Easy flights. High spirits. Margaritas flowing.”
Elena leans in conspiratorially. “We made it back with all our luggage and absolutely none of our dignity. I call that a win.”
Margo nods, adjusting her sparkle specs. “Just don’t ask about the server named Enrique. What happens in Tamarindo stays in Tamarindo.”
The room almost vibrates with our collective laughter.
“Got room for more travel buddies?” Knox says, grinning over the rim of his glass.
“Of course we do,” Millie says. “Next summer we’re going on a Caribbean cruise. You two are more than welcome to come join the fun.”
She pauses, swirling the wine in her glass before glancing Knox’s way. “Speaking of which…take it you’re not still married to—what was her name—Jenna?”
Knox sets his glass down, expression dimming. “Newly divorced. That’s actually why I’m here for the summer. Needed to clear my head while she moves out.”
Millie gives a gentle nod, her eyes warm but unflinching. “Your grandmother never liked her. Said she wasn’t your person.”
Knox nods. “Wise woman.”
There’s a brief, thoughtful pause before Millie’s gaze flicks between us. “And…what’s the deal with you two?”
Elena perks up, setting her glass down with a thunk. “Yes, do tell. We’re excellent secret-keepers.”
Margo snorts. “Lies. We’re excellent storytellers. There’s a difference.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I reach for my wine, buying time.
“We’re…” I start, then glance at Knox.
His eyes meet mine, calm and steady. “We’re figuring it out.”
Millie smiles, satisfied. “Well, that sounds like a damn good start.”
“Knox was kind enough to help rescue a cat that ended up in your attic,” I say.
Millie’s eyes widen. “In my attic?”
“Yes, but not for long,” I say, afraid she might recite her no-sand rules.
Knox and I take turns explaining how I heard Wanda’s cries, how we found two tiny kittens, and how, days later, we were roped into fostering both.
Margo lifts the pitcher, pouring us all more wine. “So, basically, you’re now a couple. With babies.”
“A couple with fur babies,” Elena corrects, face beaming more from wine than our sweet story. “The best kind.”
Millie laughs, eyes dancing. “Well, that’s the most charming home invasion story I’ve ever heard. Would love to meet them. Feel free to bring those kitties here anytime. Once they’re old enough to be around people, of course.”
We hang out a while longer, sipping wine and swapping stories about how they retired early from the Crystal Cove school district after winning an office lottery pool; that Elena and Margo became Millie’s roommates just a few years ago; tales from their travels; Millie’s hilarious memories of Knox as a brooding man in his twenties; and a tiny bit about Oxford and my big-girl job in New York.
At one point, Knox and I share the story of our first encounter, which sends all three women into giggles.
“I didn’t want to track sand into the house,” I explain, shrugging. “Just following the no-sand rule.”
Millie leans in with a knowing smirk. “Oh, sweetie. Sand from the beach is fine. I only added that clause after our very first sitter rinsed out a boogie board in the guest bathtub. A boogie board! The drain hasn’t forgiven us, and neither has my plumber.
I swore off house-sitters for a full year after that. ”
Elena snorts into her wine. “And the girl denied it but still said the ‘sea minerals’ were good for the pipes.”
“Sea minerals, my ass,” Millie mutters, shaking her head. “Sand is a menace. Treat it like glitter. Which never leaves.”
Knox lifts his glass, deadpan. “Honestly, I think we should start a petition to ban sand from all beaches.”
That stirs another round of laughter.
I raise my glass to his. “Exactly. Because sand is a clear public safety issue.”
Millie nods solemnly. “Now that’s a platform I can get behind.”
Knox catches my eye as the laughter fades, his smile softening in a way that sends a tingle through my body.
Then, as if they’ve been holding it in since the moment we stepped inside, one of them finally brings up our age gap.
Millie just laughs and waves it off. “Only eleven years? Please. Knox probably still gets carded, and you’ve got more poise than half the women in my book club.”
After a beat, with a fond look in my direction and a small sigh, Millie says, “Oh, honey. I didn’t mean to throw a wrench in your summer plans.
” She takes a sip of wine, flicks her wrist like she’s brushing worry away.
“You’ll still be paid through August, just like the agreement says.
And you’re more than welcome to stay here while you sort out your next step.
Will you stay in Crystal Cove or head to New York? ”
The question settles in my chest like a pebble dropped in deep water—small but its ripples spreading fast.
I glance at Knox, his easy presence pulling me one way, the skyline I’m meant for tugging the other.
Before I can answer, Knox leans forward, his hand finding the back of my neck in a soft touch that quiets the panic buzzing inside me. “Why don’t we grab your things?” he says, his suggestion a thread of comfort. “We’ll figure the rest out tomorrow.”
I don’t know what undoes me more: his hand sliding down my back or how his words make this sudden dilemma feel a little less impossible.
We head up and pack quickly, and twenty minutes later, we’re hugging our goodbyes.
Millie taps Knox on the arm. “You still have the same cell number?”
He nods. “Sure do.”
“Good.” Her smile tilts toward astute. “In case something comes up.”
As we turn to go, Knox brushes his hand over the small of my back, and I catch the tail end of a glance shared between the three women, subtle but loaded.
“You two make a pretty picture. Like a Hallmark movie but with real chemistry,” Elena calls from the porch.
Margo lifts her glass. “Don’t forget…cruise next summer. Bring sunscreen and secrets.”
Millie just smiles, her eyes knowing. “Y’all don’t get into too much trouble.”