Page 24 of Meeting Me, Loving You (Hearts of Maple Lake #1)

CAMERON

“ I ’m sorry Dax couldn’t come with us,” I say, glancing over at Jules.

She looks up from her phone for a second, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s okay. Maybe this is another reason I should get him service dog certified. He’d be allowed on the train.”

I smile, relieved she isn’t upset about it.

The February sun shines on the remaining snow as it clings to the rooftops and trees around the train depot.

The temperatures have warmed up slightly, no longer reaching below freezing, and the change in the weather makes me feel optimistic.

I’m looking forward to this day out with Jules.

We’re waiting in line for our tickets, the wind blowing against our bodies as we stand in the sun.

It’s been two weeks since the power outage in Jules’ apartment building, two weeks since she stayed the night in my cabin, and two weeks since she woke up in my guest bedroom and ate breakfast at my kitchen table.

Since then, I’ve thought of that weekend many times.

I have a fully furnished guest room, so it wasn’t at all an imposition to have her and Dax stay the night.

But, even if I didn’t have the extra space, I would have offered for her to take my room, and I would’ve gladly slept on the couch.

I didn’t want to leave her to study alone, but I was crashing, my energy levels depleted from hours of shoveling snow and chopping wood that morning.

Seeing her the next day, walking through my kitchen with her hair wet and freshly washed, smelling like my shampoo, I couldn’t stop my heart from skipping and my eyes from lingering on her figure.

She hadn’t packed clothes to stay the night, expecting the electricity in her apartment to have been back on by nightfall, so she wore her clothes from the previous day: black leggings that hugged her curves and that oversized knit sweater that liked to fall off her shoulder, tempting me to feel the softness of her skin.

She returned the T-shirt I had lent her to sleep in, leaving it on the counter as I cooked.

It was strangely domestic, Jules waking up in my house, laughing and eating breakfast with me, while Dax ran circles outside in the snow.

She had gotten word that the power at her apartment was working once again and, shortly after we ate, I drove her home.

I haven’t washed that T-shirt since, allowing it to sit in her vanilla scent the past two weeks. My mind continues to wander, imagining how her small frame might have looked in my shirt. Since I went to bed before her, I never got to see her wear it, but that was probably for the best.

We’re only friends, I remind myself. And I don’t need anything more.

The line starts to move, and we take a few steps forward.

There are only a couple people ahead of us, all dressed in heavy winter coats, hats, and gloves. From what I hear of their conversation, it sounds like they’re staying at the top of the mountain to ski at the lodge. Our plan is a little different, not having dressed or planned for skiing.

Jules stands beside me, one gloved hand holding her cell phone while the other glove is tucked under her arm, and I watch as she swipes right on the screen.

“See something you like?” I ask.

She looks up at me, brow furrowed. “What?”

“You swiped right. Did you find a good match?”

She gives me a blank stare, and lowers her phone.

“I’m lost. What are you talking about?” she says.

“Your phone, you swiped right. You’re on a dating app, right?” Even just saying that makes my stomach sink.

The line moves and together we take a step forward.

I keep my eyes straight ahead, but I can feel her gaze lingering on my chin.

It’s cute how small she is compared to me, and standing beside her like this makes me feel all kinds of things I can’t explain.

Her presence surrounds me on all sides, my body feeling every look and unintentional brush of her shoulder against my arm.

“Oh,” she says with a laugh, “no, I’m not on a dating app. Been there, done that. Not for me.” She looks again at her phone. “I’m studying. I have digital flashcards on my phone so I can study anywhere without taking a huge deck of paper cards with me.”

I look down at her, surprised she’s tried a dating app before.

It takes a certain level of trust and ambition to go on a date with someone you meet online, and I’m shocked she would have given it a shot.

She doesn’t seem like the type of girl who would willingly go out of her way to meet up with someone she doesn’t know.

“Did you have bad dates?” For some reason, I’m feeling irritated at the thought of Jules going on a date with a guy that doesn’t deserve her.

I also can’t help thinking that maybe someone did her wrong. And that makes me feel even worse, almost angry.

She looks up at me, then back at her phone. “Yeah, a few.” I’m silent for a beat, and she turns toward me again, seeing my frown and sensing the tension. “They didn’t do anything wrong, per se, the dates were fine. They just… didn’t meet my expectations.”

A question flashes through my mind. Would I meet her expectations? But I quickly push it aside. The answer to that doesn’t matter. I’m not here to win her. I’m here for one purpose only: to help Jules have a little fun outside of work. And I’d do well to remember that.

I shift on my feet, eager to change the subject. “Have you had your big test yet? The one we studied for together?”

Her eyes light up and she smiles wide at me. From her reaction, I can already tell she passed it with a good grade.

“It was on Thursday—I got an A!” she exclaims. “There were a few difficult questions I felt like I totally blanked on, but I was able to make a well-educated guess. I wouldn’t have done as well if you hadn’t helped me study for all those hours, so thank you.

” Her thanks is genuine, and the look of pride on her face makes me wish I could help her with every exam in the future.

“All I did was quiz you. But you’re welcome, I’m happy to help,” I say, matching her smile with my own.

The couple in front of us finishes at the ticket counter, and we step forward, greeted by a plump older man with red cheeks and an even redder nose.

“What can I do for you today?” the gentleman says, a smile on his rosy face.

“We’d like two adult tickets for the ninety-minute round trip, please,” I say.

“Would you like standard coach, Eagle-class, or dome car seating?” he asks.

I look at Jules to let her decide, but she shrugs her shoulders .

The ticket seller, whose name tag says Bob, sees our indecision and is kind enough to explain.

“Standard coach is our most basic seating, two seats to each side of the car. Nothing fancy. Eagle-class has larger, more comfortable reclining seats for better enjoyment of the excursion. And our dome car seating has a roof that is partially glass, allowing you to see and experience the mountain views much more vividly. It also includes the spacious reclining seats.”

I send Jules a questioning glance, but she doesn’t seem to have a preference, so I tell the man we’d like the dome car seating.

I swipe my card and accept the two tickets from Bob, thanking him and heading toward train car number four.

The roof is indeed partially glass and rounded like a dome.

A cool breeze blows between us as we step over a yellow line on the deck and up the few steps into the train.

Checking the tickets for our seat numbers, I guide Jules through the train car with one hand gently pressed against her back. She doesn’t seem to mind, or maybe she doesn’t even notice, and we sidestep as a mother with a toddler scurries by us and out of the train car.

We continue until we’re halfway through the car, and I stop.

“This is it,” I say, pointing at two padded navy-blue seats to our right. It’s warm on the train, so I remove my heavy coat. I offer to help Jules with hers, but she opts to keep it on.

“Thanks, but I’m always cold,” she says, “even when the heat is on and everyone else is sweating. So I’ll keep my coat on for now.”

“I should have brought something hot to drink, I didn’t think of it.” I sigh.

Sliding in, I take the seat near the window and Jules follows, sitting in the aisle seat.

“Don’t worry about it, we can get something at the lodge.

I saw on the poster at the ticket booth that the train will stop at the lodge for thirty minutes before heading back.

So we can warm up and stretch our legs when we get there.

” I’m glad Jules sounds excited because I was needing some kind of sign that this was a good idea.

“Perfect. Do you think thirty minutes is enough time to do a little skiing?” I’m joking, but Jules doesn’t seem to realize.

“I am not skiing.”

“What? Why not?” I say, feigning innocence.

She raises a hand and begins to count on her fingers.

“One: because I don’t know how. Two: because I’m not about to break my neck falling down a mountainside. And three…” She thinks for a moment. “There is no three. My first two reasons are good enough.”

“You’re right, those are two very valid reasons to not ski… today .” I say as I lean toward her, giving her a sly smile. She side-eyes me, and I laugh because she’s so attractive when she’s trying to be serious.

I’m realizing Jules is more than what she seems on the surface. Under her sweet but tough I-can-take-care-of-myself exoskeleton, she’s spunky and full of fun, salty comebacks.

Jules pulls out her phone and begins swiping through flash cards again. I lay my hand over her phone, covering the screen and gently pushing it down to her lap until it’s resting on her thigh. Her hands are cold under my palm, sending a welcome shock through my skin and up my arm.

“I think we need to lay down some ground rules for these excursions,” I say.

She looks up at me, incredulous. Then she turns her whole body toward me, shifting her legs until her knee is touching my thigh.

I try not to fidget, but her leg is against mine and my hand still covers hers as it rests in her lap.

There are so many points of contact that I want to both linger on and run from.

“Seriously? What kind of rules?” she asks. Her eyebrows go up, leaving little creases along her brow, and her warm dark eyes shift back and forth between mine.

“No studying, for starters. I said I’ll help you, but it can’t be during our fun time.

It takes away from the experience.” I lift my hand away slowly; it tingles and aches from where her soft skin touched my calloused palm.

I flex my fingers, wiping my hand along my jeans to melt away some of the nerves, and hope she doesn’t notice.

“Fine, that’s fair,” she says, locking her phone and putting it deep in the pocket of her coat.

“No more studying on our field trips, Mr. Dunne .” She smirks at me, her lashes fluttering as she replaces her glove.

She hasn’t moved her knee away from where it rests against my thigh, and I fight the urge to reach out again and rest my hand on her leg.

You want this, you want this, you want this, my heart is saying. But my head is shouting, no, no, no .

So instead, I do exactly the opposite of what I really want to do, and I move my leg slowly away from hers. It’s the smallest of movements but it feels like I just created a fissure between us. There’s a crack in the earth, and we’re on opposite sides of it.

I’m not looking at her, but I know she instantly realizes what I did when she smoothly sits back in her seat, pulling her legs away from me to cross one knee over the other.

“Do you have any more field trip rules, Mr. Dunne?” she asks.

Her voice is playful, but I can tell from the slight pull of her brow and the fact she won’t look at me that she’s affected by my pulling away.

She whips out a brochure she must have gotten at the ticket counter and begins to flip through it.

“Uh…” I’m momentarily distracted, knowing I made this wh ole thing awkward and wondering how to fix it. I don’t want Jules to think her friendliness is unwelcome.

In fact, it’s the complete opposite. I want all the smiles, all the touches; I want to have her beside me at every possible moment.

But I can’t rid myself of this feeling in my chest that tells me to run away from the possibility of rejection. The feeling that has tailed me my entire life, always tripping me like untied shoelaces and pulling me back by the collar.

She asked about rules. Right.

“No. No more rules. I’ll let you know if something comes to mind.”

“Okay.”

The train whistles as the conductor’s voice crackles through the speakers. “Last call for boarding. The train will be leaving in five minutes. Again, this is the last call for boarding. We will be departing in five minutes.”

Several more people board the train, finding their seats in a hurry.

I watch as the sun shines blissfully through the domed glass overhead, casting Jules’ long brown curls in a haze of gold.

Jules lifts her head from the brochure, our eyes catching.

She smiles, warm and soft. I realize if I can just stop being an idiot, today has the potential to be a really good day.