Yeah, he could break out in a sweat just thinking about it. And what made it worse—or better, depending on his mood—was the fact that it was mostly innocent, the time he spent with Chloe. He’d hardly touched her, certainly had never dived under her shirt or slipped an eager hand inside her panties.
Not that he wasn’t tempted, because holy hell, he was tempted daily, hourly, every minute, every second he was with her. All this innocent handholding and secret kissing sessions also meant they spent a lot of time with each other actually talking.
She was smart. Funny. Interesting. Quirky and shy one minute, sly and daring the next, she was a constant contradiction. He wanted to know more. Chloe was a mystery he wanted to solve.
And he wasn’t much of a mystery lover. Rarely had the compulsion to solve anyone or anything beyond what he photographed. Even then, he was more of an observer, always watching life go by and not ever really participating in it. He always felt like he was surviving, not living.
The realization rendered him completely still and he settled his ass on the bench seat at the front of the boat so hard, he rocked the vessel, making it bump against the barriers that flanked either side of the slip.
Spending time with Chloe made him feel like he was actually living again. Spending time in his hometown, surrounded by his family…that helped, too. Tremendously.
Glancing up, he saw her headed down the walkway from across the road, where she’d parked at Mitchell’s Landing. He watched her, appreciated the sway of her hips, the bounce in her step. She practically vibrated with excitement, even from this distance, and he liked how unrestrained she was. No games, no bullshit. She was simply Chloe.
She caught sight of him and waved, picked up her step. He hopped out of the boat and waited for her, ready to help her in when she approached. She had her sunglasses on top of her head, her hair was pulled into a high ponytail, and she wore a turquoise strapless dress that revealed thin, bright green straps that wound around her neck.
He hoped like hell it was a bikini.
“Hi.” The smile she gave him would’ve lit the entire sky, it was so bright. “This is your dad’s boat, huh?”
“Yep.” He wanted to kiss her. There w
ere people milling around—employees of Mitchell’s, tourists bringing in their rental boats for the evening, a few locals who were also coming back from a day on the lake. And he still wanted to kiss her; it didn’t matter who saw. “You look pretty, Chloe.”
She basked in his compliments, her reaction always making him want to offer more. “Thanks. You said to wear my swimsuit.”
“I did.” She also usually did whatever he requested, no questions asked. He liked that, too. Felt rather possessive of her, which he knew was ridiculous, but every time he held her, kissed her, the word mine ran through his head.
Crazy.
“Do you need help with anything? I brought snacks.” She held up a small cooler and a grocery bag. “A couple of beers and some chips.”
“Mmm, that’s my girl.” Leaning in, he kissed her. A friendly, smacking kiss that wasn’t enough, so he kissed her again, slipped her a little tongue.
Left her breathless when he broke it off, which made him grin, encouraged by her reaction. That he could render her into that dreamy state every time his lips touched hers pleased him to no end.
“Omigod, I think Art saw you kiss me,” she whispered, her cheeks flushed.
He glanced to his right, saw Art Mitchell standing a few feet away outside the marina office, watching them with a puzzled expression on his face. He was the owner of the marina, a longstanding Lone Pine Lake citizen, and no doubt, he was confused by what he just saw.
But Cam realized he really didn’t give a crap.
“Don’t worry about it. Come on.” He took Chloe’s hand and helped her into the boat, then hopped on after her. “Relax. We’ll leave in a few.”
“Are you sure you don’t need any help?”
“Just sit there and look pretty.”
She looked away, casting her gaze out over the water, a little smile teasing the corners of her lips. He chastised himself as he prepared the boat. Needed to stop talking like a lovesick fool and worse, looking at her like a lovesick fool. Do it enough and he’d have himself convinced he was halfway in love with her.
So not going to happen. He wasn’t sticking around Lone Pine Lake, no matter how much he was enjoying himself. The end of the summer, he was out of here. His agent e-mailed him almost daily, asking when he was ready to go back to work. He needed to appease him and get on with his life.
But he also needed to spend a little more time with Chloe. He couldn’t let her go. Not yet.
Within minutes they were pulling away from the marina, Cam steering the boat with ease past the returning ones. As the late afternoon turned into early evening, most everyone brought their boats in. That was Cam’s favorite time to take his dad’s out. The lake was less crowded, the sun not as intense.
They ended up in a cove not far from the dam, a neatly tucked away alcove that not many people knew about beyond the locals. It was darker here, the trees that surrounded the shore thick, cutting off the sunlight. The water was a dark, calm greenish-blue and deceptively deep. A perfect fishing hole his dad had scouted out years ago, when Cam had been young and tagged along one early, early morning with his dad and Patrick.
It was one of his favorite spots in all of Lone Pine Lake.