Page 12 of Sunny Skies Ahead (Watford Sweethearts #2)

I climbed the ladder to the loft, lying down on the bed and groaning at the softness of the duvet and mattress beneath. I rolled over onto my back, exhaling deeply.

When I opened my eyes, I realized I was looking up at a skylight.

By the time I returned tonight, I knew I’d have an unobstructed view of the Washington night sky.

When I entered the farmhouse a while later, I was surprised by how soft and restful the space was. I’d only ever been on the porch of the house while waiting for Lucas to get back with coffee. With three young military veterans living here, I had assumed the place would be disgusting.

The opposite was true.

It still had that rustic charm every older farmhouse naturally possessed, and the mostly thrifted and second hand furniture only elevated that feel.

Kameron was in the kitchen grabbing bowls from the cabinet above the sink. There was a red slow cooker next to him.

I inhaled deeply and almost choked on the nostalgia. The scent of roasting potatoes and carrots in delicate and cozy homestyle spices reminded me so much of the days I spent in the kitchen at the homestead with my Nana.

I remembered all of the times she pulled the step stool close to her soup pot so I could stir whatever delicious meal we were cooking up that day.

“Hey,” I said as I walked towards the kitchen, trying to shake the grief from my bones.

“Oh good, you’re here,” Kam said. “Everything okay at the tiny house?”

“It’s perfect,” I said. “You really thought of everything.”

“You’re the first person to stay there, so if something comes up tonight, just text me and I’ll come fix it. Hungry?”

Kameron held a bowl out to me, and I nodded gratefully.

“This smells amazing,” I said earnestly. “My Nana used to make the best pot roast in the world.”

Kameron’s light laugh skittered over my skin. I’d never heard a laugh as beautiful as his.

“Well, I’m certain this roast won’t be as good as your Nana’s, but my mom used to make this for my dad after he worked the night shift on a holiday. And we both thought it was pretty good.”

Kameron ladled some of the roast into his bowl before handing off the spoon to me. I followed suit, and we both took a seat at the dining room table.

“Did your dad work a lot of night shifts?” I asked, thinking the question was innocent enough.

Kameron coughed uncomfortably. “He worked nights pretty much my whole life, until he passed.”

I almost dropped my spoon onto the table.

“I’m so sorry,” I sputtered. “I shouldn’t have—sorry.”

Way to go, Imogen. Bringing up his dead dad at the first meal.

“It’s okay,” Kam said with a shrug. “It was several years ago.”

I knew better than to ask what happened, despite my natural curiosity. When Kam was ready to give me that information, he would. I took a bite of the roast and let out a pleased hum. Kameron choked on his next bite.

“This is really freaking good,” I said, quickly scarfing down another spoonful. “Your mom knew what she was doing.”

Kameron smiled, despite still trying to catch his breath after swallowing his bite wrong.

“She certainly knew her way around the kitchen,” Kam said.

We settled into a comfortable silence and ate the rest of our meal. When we were both finished, I grabbed my notebook and a pen and returned to my seat at the table.

“Let’s talk about job stuff,” I said. Kameron nodded and sat back in his chair.

“Now that the wedding is over, I need to focus all of my attention on securing additional grant funding. Connor’s investment will sustain us for the next year at least—hopefully longer.

But ensuring the long-term success of Winding Road means securing additional funding so we can keep up with our expenses and also build up our savings. ”

I nodded, jotting that point down.

“With daily operations, what are your biggest pain points? Tell me all the crap you don’t want to deal with so you can focus on grant proposals.”

“Email,” was Kameron’s immediate response. “I hate that thing.”

I tried to hide my smile as I wrote it down.

“Also, social media. I’m not gifted in that department. I feel bad, because our page really took off after we posted some snapshots of the Founder’s Festival, but I don’t want to keep up with it.”

“Duly noted,” I said. “You’re in luck, because I love both of those things.”

“I don’t know about your email skills, but if the way you handle your homestead’s social media is any indication, I’d say we’re in good hands.”

Again, that weird, butterfly-esque feeling sparked to life in my stomach.

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” I said. “You hand over the reins to the Winding Road emails, both for the farm and the nonprofit. I’ll take both of those things over full-time so you don’t have to worry about them.

If something comes up that needs your decision or input, I’ll text or call you.

Email is a great task because I can handle it even when I’m in Watford. ”

I paused, feeling a rush of excitement as the wheels started turning in my head in earnest. “For social media, I want to focus on short form video content. I’d like to spend at least a day or two here every week so that I can create content here.

This place is like a gold mine for content ideas.

You guys have a really good following, but we can do more to keep them engaged.

You never know what opportunities might come your way, with a robust social media presence. ”

I stopped myself, smiling awkwardly. Kameron was staring again, the fork in his hand long forgotten as he looked at me from across the dining table.

“If that’s too much, then—”

“You’re amazing,” Kam said, and it felt like the chair had been taken out from under me. I would never understand this man’s ability to disarm me with only a few words.

“It’s what I’m here for,” I said, shrugging.

But Kam didn’t look away. He never looked away.

“What?” I murmured, looking back down at my plate and stabbing a carrot with my fork. I didn’t like being scrutinized. I had always been the wallflower type.

“I want to kiss your brain.”

I let out a choked laugh, fumbling for my glass, gulping down some water in an effort to clear my throat.

“I’m surprised you get that reference,” I said, still laughing.

“Connor is the grandpa here. Just because I don’t like content creation doesn’t mean I don’t like to scroll.”

“Fair enough,” I said, my laughter finally dying down. “I needed this. Thank you for the meal, and for the laugh. And the job. For everything. ”

I blew out a long breath.

“I’m glad you’re here, Im.”

“Well, this is surprisingly romantic.”

I whirled around in my chair, a loud high-pitched sound that was very close to a scream escaping my lips. Kameron stood from his chair with a loud scrape. Standing in the front door was no other than Lucas Morales.

“Jesus Christ, Lucas,” I gasped, pressing a hand to the center of my chest to slow my racing heart. “You can’t sneak up on people like that!”

“You told me you were taking the day off,” Kameron muttered.

“I took the day off. And now I’m back at my house, because I want to sleep,” Lucas said, strolling into the kitchen and yanking the fridge door open to peruse his dinner options.

Kameron sat down in his chair wearily.

“You let your guard down,” Lucas said, looking at Kam. “You should have seen me come in. Were you, perhaps, distracted?”

“Take your grumpiness elsewhere, Lucas,” Kam said, shaking his head. “You’re welcome to join us.”

“Thank you for the meal,” I said, smiling apologetically as I stood to leave. “To be honest, I’m still running a sleep deficit from the wedding the other night. Is it okay if we resume everything tomorrow? I could use tonight to rest.”

Kameron opened his mouth to say something else, but Lucas cut him off.

“See you in the morning.”

I kept my smile plastered on my face until I had stepped through the door, immediately sinking into the relief of the cool mountain night. The path back down the hill to the tiny house was well-lit, and the sound of the trees and grass rustling and the crickets chirping was a comfort to me.

I made my way inside the tiny house, locking the door behind me before I put my phone on the charger and flopped down on the couch. There weren’t many windows in the house, a detail I was grateful for. Too many windows would have made me feel exposed.

Just like with everything Kameron had a hand in, there seemed to be a perfect balance.

I drummed my fingers along the edge of the couch, parsing out my next move. My mind was far too active for sleep, full of ideas for how to streamline Winding Road’s operations.

And maybe a few thoughts about the intensity of Kameron’s stare.

I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself.

I poked around the tiny house for a few more minutes, exploring the bathroom—surprisingly spacious, considering the overall size of the house—before I climbed the ladder up to the loft. I laid down on the bed, looking up through the skylight.

I fumbled for the remote to dim the lights, opening the small nightstand drawer. The dimmed lights, leaving only a faint glow from the downstairs kitchen, illuminated the full night sky visible through the skylight.

It was breathtaking.

I went to return the remote to its rightful place in the nightstand when my eyes landed on a book. Not just any book, but my favorite book of all time .

The book that I’d re-read over and over while I was clawing my way out of an abusive relationship.

The book I saw so much of myself in.

I saw this book on your shelf at our last Wednesday night dinner, and it was the only copy on your shelf you had annotated. I figured it might be one of your favorites, so I bought you a copy to have here, over the summer.

— Kam

Butterflies took flight in my stomach once more as I ran my fingers over the embossed cover of the book.

Was this something that friends did for one another?

I’d almost managed to convince myself that these feelings were one sided. But this was on another level. A fresh copy of my favorite book, that I hadn’t even told him about—he just happened to notice it was the most well-loved copy in my home library?

The reality of my life up to this point came crashing over me.

I was the girl who had jumped at the opportunity to run off with a man she’d barely dated for a year, right after graduating from high school.

I knew nothing about love or romance. The only true friend I had was Abbie, and even then, I felt like I could never measure up to everything she’d done for me over the years.

I didn’t know what to do.

As I read over the note once more, Kameron’s rough scrawl etched into the paper, tracing the words again and again, I realized I might have completely misread those stares .

I groaned and flopped back against the pillowcase, unable to sort my thoughts out. This was the harsh, realistic aftermath of escaping an abusive relationship.

Your ability to trust your instincts was diminished, to the point where you spent most of your time overthinking, rather than living your life.

That, perhaps, was the most egregious theft of all.