The Thing About Trouble (Crystal Lake 1)

He noticed fatigue etched around her little mouth, and her eyes were glassy. She yawned, and something hit him in the gut. It hit him hard. And with it came a healthy dose of fear. He was all this little girl had, at least for now, and he needed to get this right. She’d been through too much already.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “Let’s go.”

Cam scooped her up into his arms and, with the dog trailing at his heels, made his way outside. A few minutes later, he was headed back to his place, a sleepy girl in tow and a head full of doubt. What the hell was he going to do with the kid tomorrow? His mother had told him he’d figure this out, but Cam wasn’t so sure he could. His jaw clenched tightly.

About the only thing he was sure of was that he had to try.

4

Blue didn’t sleep well. She tossed and turned and, by the time four a.m. rolled around, was frustrated and fed up. She hadn’t had a night like this in months, not since David passed, and after a mental battle with herself, gave up and took two sleeping pills. She hated medication, but hated lack of sleep even more.

As it was, when she finally woke up, she wasn’t shocked to find the sun streaming in from the balcony, warming her face. Blue rolled over with a groan, one eye open as she tried to focus on the blurry clock that read quarter to eleven.

Crap. She bolted upright and damn near fell on her ass as she scrambled from bed and jogged to the large garden doors that opened onto her balcony. Peering through them, she saw several men digging out the gardens, all dressed in shorts, tees, and work boots. A dog ran around them, playing with butterflies, and paused, ears perked forward as Cam Booker walked into her line of sight.

She shrank against the wall and then, feeling foolish, gave herself a mental smack as she leaned forward again. It wasn’t as if the guy had X-ray vision. He was shirtless, and his deeply bronzed skin glistened with sweat. His thick hair was covered by a ball cap, and khaki shorts hung loose on his hips, giving her a peek at the top of his boxers. Which were plaid. He smiled at something one of his workers said, and his white teeth and generous mouth did funny things to her. Cheeks pink, she swore and took a step back. What the hell was wrong with her? She was ogling the man as if he were a yummy piece of candy.

Blue made a face. She didn’t even like candy.

“Come on, Blue, get your head straight.” She would shower and then go apologize for her bitchy behaviour on Saturday. Once that was done, she’d leave Cam to the job and wouldn’t think about him again. He was just a man she’d hired and nothing more. She didn’t even know the guy. She didn’t want to know the guy. And after her behavior on the weekend, she was pretty sure he didn’t want to know her either. Seeing him with the little girl had intrigued her was all.

Bluebell Barnes wasn’t in the market for a relationship of any kind. Wait. She took another step back and shook her head vehemently. Relationship? Where the hell had that word come from? She didn’t do relationships. David was as close as she’d gotten, and even then she wasn’t sure she’d done it right.

“God, get in the shower already,” she mumbled to herself as she headed toward her large bathroom. “And stop talking to yourself.”

Twenty minutes later, she was on her way to the kitchen, Giselle meowing passionately as she ran past Blue. By the time Blue got there, her cat was waiting by empty bowls, tail swishing in annoyance and that look in her eye that said, I will pee on something if you don’t feed and water me.

She filled Giselle’s bowls, grabbed a yogurt from the fridge, and wandered over to the large bay window that overlooked the backyard. Yep. The crew was still there. So was the dog. And Cam. She swallowed a lump of yogurt and sighed. Why was she so focused on Cam Booker? But she knew, didn’t she? She’d seen the look in his eyes. Saw the reflection of what pretty much everyone in town thought of her. Bluebell Barnes was a rich, spoiled, bitchy gold-digger who’d married for money, and now that her husband was dead, she was spending it like water down the drain.

They didn’t know this renovation was something she’d discussed with David and that he’d taken great pleasure in helping her design the new gardens. Or that the only quiet moments she had were out there, away from judging eyes and the vehement dislike David’s son had for her. This meant something. It reminded her of David and all she’d lost, and damned if she was going to let anyone make her feel bad about any of the decisions she made.

But for some reason when it came to Cam, it mattered, and she hadn’t even known that until she’d shown up at his office. Something about the man sparked a flame inside her, and she’d done what she always did when cornered. Blue assumed the mantle that had been cast over her. She let it slide across her skin and sink into her pores. She’d played into every assumption he had. She knew the only reason he hadn’t told her to go to hell was because she’d booked this expensive job and he needed it.

God, what a mess. She had to make it right and then move on. She would leave the project in his capable hands, direct him to deal with her business manager, Jason, who she’d hired back after he promised not to make any decisions without consulting her first. That way, she wouldn’t have to speak to Cam again. She’d go on about her business and forget that Cameron Booker existed.

With renewed purpose, Blue finished her yogurt was about to head out back when the doorbell stopped her in her tracks. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and, puzzled, she reversed course and strode to the front of the house. A quick glance out one of the windows beside the door didn’t shed any light, and, with a shrug, she opened up.

The little girl from yesterday stood there. “I have to pee.” She was dressed in a pale pink top with grape-colored stains across the chest and a multicolor skirt that hung to her knees. Little princess sandals adorned her feet, and her hair sprang from her head, spiral curls bouncing in all directions as she tapped her toes impatiently.

“I have to pee,” the little girl said again and then pointed to the side of the house. “I don’t want to go in there.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “There’s spiders.”

Blue spied a bright green porta-potty and frowned, wondering why on earth Cameron Booker would bring the girl out to this job site.

“Can I?” The little girl squirmed in obvious discomfort. “Pretty please?”

Feeling foolish, Blue nodded and stepped back. “Of course. Come in. I’ll show you where the bathroom is.” She led the way to a small powder room off the main foyer and smiled to herself, listening as the girl sang softly to herself. When she was done, she stood in front of Blue and wiped her hands down her skirt as she looked around.

“Your house is big,” she said. “It’s like a castle.”

To a little girl, Blue supposed it did.

“Do you have apple juice?”

“Do I…” Blue stumbled over her words as those big exotic eyes settled on her.

“I’m thirsty.”

“I think I might have some orange juice.”