Page 19 of Sunny Skies Ahead (Watford Sweethearts #2)

Chapter thirteen

Imogen

W e didn’t have wait a week. Just a few days after we got the original email, we received notice that we were advancing to the video interview stage.

The next week was spent facilitating a watered-down version of media training for Kameron.

The selection committee had sent over a list of questions they planned to ask in the interview.

Most of them were pretty surface level—questions about the mission and the population served.

The interviewers already had the answers to most of those questions in the grant application, and the video interview was designed to put a face to the written proposal.

The day of the interview finally came, and I had never seen a more stressed out man in my life.

“What if the Wi-Fi goes down?”

Kameron was pacing around the kitchen, alternating between muttering to himself and playing the “worst-case scenario” game .

“Then we’ll set up a hotspot,” I said, pouring the freshly boiled hot water over a bag of green tea. Kameron was pacing around the kitchen, wearing a crisp white shirt, jeans, and boots. The whole ensemble was highly distracting on a good day.

Couple that with the way he kept running his hand through his hair to calm himself down, and I was a goner.

“What if they don’t show? Or worse, what if they do show up and then they realize that they actually meant to give this opportunity to someone else, and—”

“Kameron,” I sighed, putting my mug down on the kitchen counter. I walked over to him and took his face in my hands, unable to bear the back and forth.

“Stop psyching yourself out over this,” I said, shaking his face gently for emphasis.

“You’ve done everything you can to prepare.

Focus on the questions at hand. Go ‘military work mode’ or whatever it is you used to do when preparing to do something that stressed you out when you were on active duty.

You’ve got this. You’ve done everything you can to prepare. It is what it is.”

Kameron’s breathing evened out, and I patted his cheek.

“I’ll be waiting down here when it’s over. Whatever happens.”

Kameron, to my surprise, enveloped me in a bear hug.

He murmured a muffled thank you into my hair and squeezed me.

I let out a small laugh of bewilderment, trying desperately not to think about the hard lines of his body pressed against mine.

Which was disrespectful, considering that he was in an emotionally vulnerable position right now .

This is your boss. This is Kameron. This is one of your closest friends.

Maybe if I repeated it enough times to myself I’d start to believe it.

Ninety minutes later, Kameron came bounding downstairs, exclaiming that he hadn’t bombed the interview. In fact, he was pretty damn confident that he nailed it.

“They stuck to the list of questions they sent out earlier. I was expecting at least one curveball, but it never came,” Kameron said, slouching down in the dining room chair. I smiled and took the seat across from him.

“So, are you in a place where you can admit that you might have been panicking unnecessarily?”

Kameron waved a hand. “Me? Unnecessarily panicking? Never.”

“So, now that the interview is out of the way. . . what should we do next?”

“We’re taking the day off,” Kameron said, closing my laptop. I yelped in protest, attempting to remove his hand, but my efforts were futile. “Leave the inbox how it is, and go put your bathing suit on.”

I slouched back in my chair, glaring at him.

“Some of us have work to do.”

“I thought I was your boss,” Kameron said, the ghost of a smile on his lips. Something about the way he said the word ‘ boss’ had my mind sprinting in a direction it should stay far away from.

“In most workplaces, it would be inappropriate for a boss to tell one of their employees to put on their bikini.”

“Who said anything about a bikini?” Kameron said, and I swore under my breath, knowing he had me.

Damn him.

“Do I at least get to know where we’re going?”

“Swimming,” Kameron said, as if it was obvious. “We’re going to the lake.”

I leaned back on my hands, turning my face to the afternoon sun.

The thick clouds provided enough cover that I didn’t need to shield my eyes from the rays.

I could breathe deeply and focus on the comforting feeling of the warm sun on my face.

My legs dangled off the side of the dock, and the dress over my bathing suit rippled gently in the late spring wind.

Kameron had cannonball’d off the end of the dock as soon as we’d arrived, and I’d painstakingly slathered myself in sunscreen so I could enjoy my time beneath the warm rays.

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” Kameron said when he resurfaced, playfully splashing water in my direction.

“I’m not getting in there,” I replied with a laugh, dangling my legs in the water. “I just washed my hair. ”

And I was not keen on repeating the tedious process all over again, regardless of how much Kameron flashed me those baby blues.

Kameron was floating face up in the water, eyes closed as he soaked up the rays. He looked at peace, without the usual tension in his shoulders.

Not that I paid attention to how much tension he carried in his shoulders, because that would be well outside of what was allowed.

I closed my eyes, as if it would quiet the butterflies in my stomach.

It was getting harder to decide what was and was not allowed.

“You’re beautiful.”

I opened my eyes to find Kameron hovering in the water just a few feet in front of me. The unfamiliar words struck something in methat had long since laid dormant.

“I’m sorry,” Kameron said sheepishly. “That slipped out.”

I laughed, tossing some of my curls over one shoulder and looking over my shoulder in a teasingly suggestive gesture.

“Thank you. This is my favorite dress,” I said, smoothing my hands down the green and white floral dress that barely hit my knees.

“It is a nice dress, but I’ve always thought that,” Kameron said, shaking his head. “Your beauty isn’t new to me.”

I pressed my lips together, the teasing confidence of earlier vanishing instantly when I looked at Kameron for the first time since he’d jumped in to swim.

Kameron Miller had a way of unnerving me when I least expected it, and the sight of him, shirtless and wet and very, very close, had my throat closing up.

Kameron swam up to me, pressing both of his palms on either side of my hips. My heart pounded in my chest, my pulse a dull roar in my ears.

“I want to kiss you so fucking bad,” he murmured, and I felt like I might pass out. “I tried not to. I’ve tried for months. But I can’t look away from you. I’m always looking for you. Even when I know you’re not there, I still hope that you will be.”

His blue eyes were fixed on me, and instead of breaking out in a cold sweat, I found myself leaning in. I straightened my dress, and Kameron tracked the movement. A small noise escaped him.

“You with these freaking dresses.”

My laugh was breathy and somewhat choked, as if all the air between us was quickly disappearing.

This was the line. I’d spent so many nights at Winding Road the last few weeks wrestling with the war in my mind over where the line was. I knew, as Kameron’s pupils dilated, that this was the line. If we crossed it, things would get messy.

But Kameron was staring at me with that intensity I craved, and suddenly, I’d never wanted to cross a line more in my life.

“Do it,” I whispered as my heart thundered in my chest. “Kiss me.”

What I meant to be a dare turned out to be a moment of truth as Kameron surged up, leaning all of his weight into his hands as he kissed me. I moaned into his mouth, shocked by how quickly my body responded to the kiss—to him .

The kiss was searing in the most delicious way.

Because he was using his hands to balance himself on the dock, I expected an awkward clashing of teeth and tongue, when this was anything but.

Kameron slanted his lips against mine at the perfect angle, tasting the strawberry lemonade we’d shared earlier.

I reached my hands out to grab his shirt to have something to steady myself, gasping when my hands met only damp, heated skin. His muscles flexed underneath my touch and warmth blossomed in my stomach, new and exciting and all-consuming.

Kameron didn’t waste a moment, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. His arms trembled with the strain of holding himself up, and I broke the kiss with a startled gasp. The spell we’d both be under broke, and I scooted away from him, allowing him a moment to haul himself up onto the dock.

He wiped his thumb over his lip, and I realized I was doing the same. My fingertips hovered over my tingling lips, still swollen and raised from the scratch of his beard and the fierceness of his kiss.

“Imogen.”

My name on his lips was the last seal breaking.

“I am so sorry,” I blurted before he could speak again. “I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay,” Kameron said, though his chest still heaved with the aftershocks of our kiss.

Our kiss . Oh no.

I stood quickly, smoothing down the bunched fabric of my dress, keeping one palm pressed to my side as a gust of wind blew past. Kameron was still sitting on the dock, shirtless, and trying desperately not to stare at my legs.

I cursed internally. The wind was not my friend today.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, because what else was there to say?

Hey boss, that was the best kiss of my life . Can we please do it again?

Kameron stood, opening his mouth to say something as he reached for me.

I took a step back, and even though he deflated, I stood my ground.

“See you at dinner!” I called, turning tail and doing what I’d always done best: run in the opposite direction of what I’d screwed up.

I wanted to look back. Wanted to pick up right where we’d left off.

But I kept walking, one foot in front of the other, all the way back up to the tiny house. I let the door close behind me, smacking the back of my head against the cool wood.

I’d really done it this time.