Page 141 of Camp Bliss
“What?” I ask, finally trusting my words.
“Honey, it’s late. We can’t start over.”
Honey.I get to be herHoney.Thank Christ.
“I’m not starting over,” I say softly. Then kiss her once more. “Just finishing up.”
She giggles again. Greta’s fingers touch my face, and she brushes a wild lock behind my ear. Then she moves in and kisses me.
“Mmm.”She hums sweetly against my lips. And then she’s wriggling onto her back and then her side. “Snuggle me,” she demands, tucking her ass against my pelvis.
Thanking my lucky stars, I flatten my hand on her stomach and tug her closer, her back to my chest, my legs tangled with hers. “Yes, ma'am.”
I’ve never slept better in my whole damn life.
* * *
The next morning,we’re cleaning up after our Camp Bliss North guests finished brunch and are off to explore the rookery at nearby Lake Martin.
By unspoken agreement, we’ve barely even made eye contact in front of the guests this morning. I know that even letting myself look at Greta has visions of last night rising up in my head and threatening my sanity.
But the guests are gone now, and my woman is standing at the sink, handwashing the coffee cups Mr. and Mrs. Soulier used at brunch.
I come up behind her, bracket her hips in my hands and brush her curls aside with my chin. When I plant my lips on the delicate slope of her neck, she lets out a moan of pleasure, and I feel her sag a little against the counter top.
I slide a hand around her waist and flatten my palm to her abs. “How are you feeling this morning?”
I hear her smile in her response. “Pretty good, actually.”
Rubbing her belly in chaste circles, I murmur in her ear. “Because, you know, I have this home remedy for cramps...”
Laughing, she elbows me gently in the gut. “Get out of here. You have work to do.”
I chuckle along with her, glad I’ve made her laugh. I kiss her again on the neck before letting her go. She’s right. I do have work to do.
Every morning, I make a circuit of the grounds, checking on everything. Making sure coyotes haven’t left a rabbit carcass on the lawn in front of the lodge—it’s happened before; checking the deer feeders; stopping at the dock to sweep duck shit off the planks. At the lake this morning, I noticed our aerator fountain had stopped working. The next thing on my agenda is to take a paddle board out there and see if I can figure out why.
Hopefully, it’s something I can fix.
“Okay, but I’m probably going to get wet out there. Gimme something to look forward to. What are we doing today for fun?”
She turns around to face me and leans a hip against the counter. Her smile is bright, her face joyful. “I was thinking—”
But my ringing phone cuts her off.
I’m preparing to decline the call when I see it’s my oldest sister. She literallynevercalls unless it’s my birthday, and it’s not.
Frowning, I answer. “Hey Liz, what’s up?”
Her sigh comes across the phone. “Mom and Dad are okay, but they had an accident.”
My face and hands go numb. “W-What?”
I barely register that Greta pushes off from the counter, eyes alert.
“It happened at the club. Nothing serious. They literally rolled a golf cart,” Liz says, disapproval heavy in her tone.
Fuck.
