Page 25 of Sunny Skies Ahead (Watford Sweethearts #2)

Chapter sixteen

Imogen

W aking up next to Kameron felt like waking up in a liminal space. Somewhere between reality and a dream. His arm thrown over my waist, his face turned away from me, the sheets having shifted in the night to reveal the long, muscled planes of his back.

“It’s nice to be the one being stared at for once.”

Heat immediately rushed to my cheeks, and I bit down on my index finger to hide my smile.

“Sorry,” I said somewhat sheepishly.

“Don’t apologize,” Kameron said, the sound muffled as he turned over to face me.

Kameron was devastating on a good day, but I decided this Kameron was my favorite. Black hair tousled from sleep, his beard illuminated by the early morning light filtering in from the skylight, blue eyes that sparkled in the dawn.

“It’s nice to wake up next to you,” he said, reaching for me. I propped my head up on my hand and extended my other to meet his, our fingers tangling together. My heart hammered in my chest, so full of life and light that I was worried I might explode.

Was this what it was supposed to feel like?

I quickly diverted my thoughts. Leave it to me to complicate a nice moment.

Even if it did feel like waking up to Kameron was inexplicably complicated.

“Did you think I’d be gone when you woke up?”

Kameron paused where his thumb was stroking over the back of my hand. I laid my head down on the pillow to be closer to him, throwing one of my legs over his, smiling when he untangled our fingers and pulled me closer.

“I really hoped you wouldn’t be,” Kam said.

“The thought didn’t even cross my mind,” I said honestly.

“It wouldn’t have been the first time,” Kam said with a weak smile.

“Well, they were idiots,” I said, pressing the tip of my finger to his nose. He wrinkled his face.

“Was last night—”

“Perfect? Incredible? Earth shattering? All of the above.”

Kameron let out a loud laugh, and I smiled even wider.

“Way to make a man feel proud,” he said, eyes shining with something I couldn’t place as he looked down at me. “But that’s not what I was going to ask.”

I held my breath for whatever question might come out of his mouth. I didn’t expect this to be a one-night thing. Though, in retrospect, it probably would have been helpful to have that conversation before I had the best sex of my life. The best sex I would probably ever have.

My mind was in the gutter, and I didn’t know how I would ever get it out, with the memories of last night now plaguing my every thought.

“What do you want?” Kam murmured, raising his right hand to my face. His thumb traced my lower lip, and my breath hitched.

“That’s a complicated question,” I said, scrambling for something to give this man that didn’t involve a piece of my heart.

“Do you want to do this again?”

“Yes,” I said, without hesitating. Kameron smirked.

“I knew it. You just want me for my body.”

It wasn’t a jab, but something about it made my skin crawl.

“No,” I blurted. “I don’t. That was the first time I’d—since him.”

Kameron’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah,” I said, pressing a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. “Sorry. I probably should have clarified that before.”

Kameron still looked vaguely terrified, and I snuggled closer to him, so our faces were just inches apart. I kept my eyes downcast, allowing my fingers to idly trace patterns on his chest.

“What I want,” I said, trying to keep this conversation from derailing entirely, “is to explore whatever this is. But I don’t want the others to know yet. I have a hard time trusting my judgement in situations like this. I don’t want other people in our space until we’re in a good place. ”

The understatement of the century. I didn’t trust my romantic judgement at all after the events of the last few years.

I was notoriously terrible at reading people’s signals.

I much preferred data and numbers that could be quantified and organized.

Romance and love and being vulnerable with another person was just about the messiest thing one could do.

It was never simple, never easily quantified.

But if last night was any indication, I had a feeling the two of us could figure it out.

I hesitantly looked up to meet his eyes, surprised to find him staring back at me with a mix of awe and excitement.

“How does that sound?” I asked, running my fingers along his jaw. I was still trying to convince myself this was real.

“Only if you want to,” Kameron said, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along my upper back. His touch sent a shiver down my spine.

“I think I want to,” I said. Kameron paused.

“You think, or you know?”

“I don’t know how to do this,” I confessed, frustrated with myself.

“It’s just you and me,” Kameron said, kissing my forehead. “We get to make the rules here.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” I said, laughing to mask the discomfort forming in my chest.

“How about we start with being honest to each other?”

I sat up in bed, clutching the sheet to my chest and giving Kameron a wry look.

“After last night, I’m not sure I have any secrets left. ”

Kameron smiled and leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head. His muscles flexed with the movement and I bit my lip.

“That’s a good sign,” Kameron said, smirking when my gaze met his again.

“Don’t get smug,” I warned, jabbing a finger into his chest. “The last thing we need is Lucas finding out about this.”

“You’re worried about Lucas? I’m worried about Abbie.”

I shook my head, unable to stop the smile slowly spreading across my face.

“Abbie would be ecstatic. She’s been dropping not-so-subtle hints ever since the festival last year. She wants us to get together. Lucas on the other hand. . . he might kill you.”

Kameron rolled his eyes. “He wouldn’t even try.”

“Oh, let’s make a bet,” I said, amused.

Kameron leaned forward so our faces were only centimeters apart.

“Twenty bucks says I tell Lucas about us and all he does is make a sound of disgust.”

I considered this for a moment, inclining my head towards him like I was going to seal the distance between us.

“My money’s on Lucas kicking your ass into next week,” I whispered, smacking a quick kiss to his lips before sliding off the bed and climbing down the ladder, headed for the bathroom.

Kameron’s squawk of indignation had me laughing the entire way there.

After walking Bass in the morning and checking on things at the farm, we returned to Watford that afternoon.

The remediation had taken longer than expected, and when Dillon had called me to say that everything was finished, he did have some other concerns to speak with me about.

As we pulled into the gravel roundabout in front of the farmhouse, my stomach twisted with anxiety at the sight of Dillon’s work truck still parked there.

He came down the front steps and waved to us as he put another bag of tools and equipment into the tailgate.

All of the bliss from this morning was replaced by anxiety.

I still hadn’t made a decision about the house.

We headed inside, and I was surprised by how normal the house looked. I didn’t know why I was expecting it to look like a FEMA site.

“Hey Dillon,” I said. “This is Kameron, my. . . friend.”

I stumbled over the word and immediately felt my cheeks flush. The whole “not putting a label on it” thing felt good when we were in our tiny house bubble, but I had some work to do. I needed to be able to introduce Kameron as a friend without showing every sign of embarrassment possible.

“Nice to meet you,” Kameron said, removing one of his hands from his pockets and extending it to Dillon to shake. The other man took it.

“Good to meet you,” Dillon replied. “First off, the mold remediation was successful.”

I let out a sigh of relief .

“That said, we discovered a few more issues that will need to be addressed,” Dillon said. “I know you haven’t decided whether to sell the house or stay, but either way, they’ll need to be fixed.”

He gestured for us to follow him, and for the next half hour, Dillon explained some issues they’d found in the walls.

Everything from pipes that needed to be replaced, to electrical wiring that needed redoing, and even showed me several places on the outside of the house where some of the siding was rotting away.

“The house isn’t in good shape,” Dillon said honestly. “It goes well beyond the mold issue we found in the bathroom.”

“What’s a ballpark estimate to get this place into shape?”

“I’m not a realtor, but I can tell you that you’re looking at a repair cost that’s pushing six figures.”

I rubbed a hand over my face, feeling slightly dizzy.

“And if I sold it as is?”

“Depends on whether you sold the land with the house,” Dillon said. “The value of the farmland would most likely offset part of what you’d lose on the house. But again, I’m not a realtor. I can put you in touch with a company in Brighton if you need a recommendation.”

“No, I can talk to Kelly,” I said, knowing Kelly Sakis would have knowledge about how to sell a house like this. The fact that she was a Watford local also brought me comfort, because she would know how much this house meant to me.

“Sorry I don’t have better news for you,” Dillon said. “It’s safe to stay here for now, but I urge you to get some of these structural repairs dealt with sooner rather than later. ”

“Thanks for everything,” I said as Kameron and I walked Dillon to the front door. He waved before climbing into his work truck and setting off.

“Crap,” I groaned, knocking my head back against the door immediately after closing it.

“Tea?” Kameron asked, pressing his lips to my forehead. I sighed into the touch, leaning into him.

“Please,” I said, the sound muffled against the fabric of his shirt. He took my hand and pulled me towards the kitchen, putting water in the kettle and setting it on the stove.

“It feels like I’m stuck between the past and the future,” I muttered as I took a seat at the dining room kitchen. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does,” Kameron insisted, sitting down with me while we waited for the water to boil.

“For so long, this place represented peace and comfort to you. It’s where you grew up.

And your Nana gave it to you after she passed.

There’s a lot of memory and emotion in these four walls.

I’m sure the idea of giving it up is difficult. ”

I looked around at the familiar walls, the kitchen that I had painstakingly remodeled soon after I moved back to Watford. It was the first big home project I’d planned and completed. I loved baking; it brought me so much joy, and the previous kitchen couldn’t hold up to how much time I spent there.

“I love this house,” I murmured, meeting Kameron’s eyes. “But I can’t shake the feeling that. . .”

“What?” Kameron encouraged gently after I fell silent.

“It doesn’t feel like home anymore,” I whispered. Kameron’s lips parted. I waited for the anxiety about throwing my feelings out into the open to crush me, but it didn’t. Because this was Kameron. After everything we’d shared last night, there was little left to hide from him.

What’s more, I realized, is that I didn’t want to hide from him.

The kettle whistled and Kameron looked away. I let out a long breath as Kameron stood and made his way over to the stove to remove the kettle from heat.

“What are we in the mood for?” he said, opening the drawer full of every kind of tea one could hope to try.

“The stress relief one,” I grumbled. Kameron chuckled but obliged me, placing some of the loose leaf tea into one of the silver strainers and bringing the steaming cup to me. I inhaled deeply and sighed.

“Thank you,” I said. “For everything.”

“I know that we both have a complicated history with dating,” Kameron said, “but I do know that in most relationships, you don’t need to thank the other person for making you tea.”

I shook my head. “I’m not saying thank you out of obligation, I promise. I’m saying it because I’m grateful for you.”

Kameron’s features softened. “Then I’ll accept it.”

I rolled my eyes.

“So, what are we thinking?” Kameron said, gesturing to the living room to our left.

“I think I’m going to talk to Kelly,” I said quietly. “I think it’s time to let go.”

As terrifying as the prospect was, I couldn’t deny the way I’d outgrown this place .

“Okay,” Kameron said, reaching for my hand and squeezing it gently. “Let’s talk to Kelly.”

The way Kameron so casually used terms like we and let’s should have had me running for the hills.

Instead, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.