Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
He made his way into her room and just watched her for a few moments. She must be exhausted to sleep through the intercom, his knock on the door, and him walking around. She worked too hard. He suspected everyone had shoved her feet into Ms. Kris’s impossibly large designer shoes, expecting her to take up where her aunt had left off. With more competence and grace than even she had probably known she possessed, Jo had stepped into those shoes and impressed everyone. Expanding programs Ms. Kris had started. Venturing into vistas the board hadn’t even considered. Jo handled things. She took care of people. And for the first time, Cam admitted to himself how much he wanted to take care of her. To be a person, a place where she could relax and refuel and receive the unconditional acceptance she had always extended to him.
Cam shut his eyes, castigating himself for even the thought. He kept leaving that gate open. The gate locking away his emotions, his thoughts…his dreams about Jo. He’d known since he’d first met her at camp all those years ago that someone like Jo needed a guy he could never be. And he’d been stuffing these damned urges away ever since. He’d dated other girls, fucked other girls. Hell, even married one. But this had never really gone away, as much as he’d hidden it from everyone.
Most of the time, hidden it from himself.
But things kept slipping. Not only the guard he’d kept on his feelings for Jo, but also the horrors of his childhood visited him now every night. That monster, that demon, had been consigned to hell, but he somehow kept slithering into Cam’s dreams.
Yeah, things kept slipping. No way could he give in to these feelings when his hold on…things…on himself was this shaky.
Jo stirred, drowsiness clearing from her eyes. She didn’t realize he was there yet. She sat up and the strap of her camisole slipped down her arm. She bundled the wild hair tumbling around her shoulders into a fist. Glancing to the right, she jumped and yelped a little when she saw him.
“Cam, good grief! You scared me. Geesh.”
“Sorry.” He took a cautious step in her direction. “I called you on the intercom and I knocked. Guess you were pretty tired.”
“Yeah.” She threw her legs over the side of the bed, feeling around with her bare feet for something. “The time difference in Kenya is killing me. We had another really early call.”
Cam spotted a pair of leather flip-flops under the love seat. He grabbed them and squatted in front of Jo, slipping them onto her feet. His fingers skimmed the smooth skin of her ankle, lingered at her soft heel before he stood back up. Her eyes, wide with surprise, locked with his.
“I’m sorry.” He took another step back. “I just realized you were looking for your shoes and I…”
You knelt at her feet like a servant and put her shoes on for her. And then you copped a foot-feel. Perv.
“It’s um…it’s fine.” Jo pushed off the bed, tugging at the shorts, which couldn’t be much longer than her panties. If she could even wear panties with those.
Please change clothes. Please change clothes. Please change clothes.
He wouldn’t ask again. That would alert her to how turned on he was.
Like your dick at half-mast won’t send that memo.
He turned toward the door, crossed the sitting room, and tossed words back to her.
“Dinner’s ready.” He paused at the threshold into the hall. “It’s cooled off outside some. Thought it’d be nice to eat in the gazebo by the river.”
Silence answered him. That had been Ms. Kris’s favorite way to eat dinner, especially on summer evenings.
“I haven’t eaten down there since Aunt Kris got sick.” Jo’s voice barely cleared a whisper. “I’d like that a lot.”
* * *
If he had hoped perfectly grilled red meat, crisp summer vegetables, and the quaint setting would ease things between them, he had been wrong. The fairy lights decked the gazebo in twinkles, but nothing about their conversation sparkled. Clanking dishes. Chewing and swallowing. Sipping. Those were the only sounds. The gazebo was a lovely cell and awkwardness their warden.
Jo finally laid down her steak knife, pushed her plate away, and took one more sip of her cabernet before standing and moving over to the gazebo bench. She folded her legs up, wrapped her arms around them, and laid her forehead against her knees.
“I’m tired of this, Cam.” Jo’s words were smashed against her knees, but the message was still clear. “So tired.”
“Of what?” He was coward enough to hold on to these last few seconds before she forced him to make hard choices. To say hard things.
“Of this thing that we almost are, never were.” She turned until her back was against the gazebo wall and she faced him, feet flat on the floor. Eyes pinned to him. “That we could be, if you’d let us.”