Finding Her Courage Read online

  “How about you?” His hand was already poised over a wing. Something told him Camille could eat her weight in wings.

  “Actually, I’m a vegetarian.” Two dozen men and women dropped their forks on their plates. Camille’s face turned pink.

  “Really?” Ty wasn’t upset, just surprised. Vegetarians weren’t common in Nebraska, especially on a ranch. He put the chicken down and scratched his head. “I’m not sure there’s anything here—”

  “It’s okay. There are plenty of side dishes to fill me up.” She reached for the mashed potatoes.

  Maricela stopped her. “I’m sorry. I used chicken broth when I made them.” She looked guilty, like Camille might think she’d done it on purpose just to mess with her. “I didn’t know.”

  Camille’s smile outweighed Maricela’s frown. He got the idea she was used to stuff like this. “Don’t worry about it.” Next to the potatoes were the brussels sprouts. She grabbed those instead.

  Dillon cleared his throat. “Uh... I wouldn’t. Pork fat.”

  Camille looked down at the bowl in her hand and made an involuntary face that did nothing to diminish her dimples. She set the bowl down.

  “I can fix you something in the kitchen,” Ty said.

  But Camille shook her head. “No, it’s okay. There’s already so much food here. I’ll be fine.” Her eyes moved up and down the table.

  Everyone was watching her. Ty gave them each a look, sending silent signals to stop staring and start eating. One by one, they picked up their forks.

  Camille reached for the macaroni and cheese. “Ham,” Daisy said, almost jumping in her seat.

  He’d never realized how much meat was at their table. Maybe he ought to make everyone get their cholesterol checked. “Let me make you something.”

  Camille’s smile grew a little forced. “No, no. I’m good with salad.”

  She already had the salad bowl in her hands when Josh stopped her. “I’m sorry. Bacon.” She put the bowl down. The dimples were gone. “Well, the bread looks good. Is it homemade?” She reached for a slice.

  Enough was enough. Ty pushed his chair back. Camille looked at him, her mouth already opening in protest. Ty took her hand and pulled her up. He hadn’t expected the touch of her fingers to make his heart dance. It started as a waltz, but slid quickly into a disco.

  Stop this. Now. Do you want another Mia?

  But that was ridiculous. Ty wasn’t infatuated with Camille. He was just... They were neighbors. Simple, easy and uncomplicated. For the most part.

  “Come on. I’m not gonna let you starve.” He pulled her gently toward the kitchen and was relieved when she followed.

  There were stools all around the breakfast bar. Ty pushed one out for her. “Do you eat eggs?”

  “Yes.”

  “How about an omelet?”

  Her frown eased ever so slightly. “That sounds good, but you really don’t—”

  Ty cut her off with a look. “I don’t let guests go hungry. Especially guests who’ve been busy helping me all weekend.”

  There. It was just the edge of her dimples, but he was pleased to see them starting back up. He reminded himself that dimples equaled danger, but it had little effect. You could admire the Mona Lisa without hanging it in your home. Not that Camille was the Mona Lisa. She was just a girl. Smart, funny...beautiful.

  Don’t. Ty cleared his mind.

  Camille’s eyes brightened. “All right, you can cook, but I’ve got one condition.” Ty braced himself. “You’ve got to let me help.”

  That was one condition Ty could live with. He opened the fridge. “What do you like? Green pepper? Onions?”

  “Yes and yes.”

  He handed her some veggies and grabbed two chopping knives. Ty cut into the onion, but he forgot to run it under water and his eyes started tearing up. Her dimples widened.

  “You think it’s funny seeing me cry?” He fake sniffled for her.

  “It lets me picture you as a little boy. I bet you threw better tantrums than Dillon.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “It’s in the eyes. His are mischievous, but in an obvious way. Yours are more subtle. The kind of kid whose tantrum sneaks up on their parents. That’s always worse.”

  Ty grinned. “And here I thought I was being all mysterious. Turns out you had me pegged from the get-go.”

  “That’s life experience talking. One kid plus a half-finished business degree and you’re basically an amateur psychologist.” She giggled.

  “Business degree?”

  Camille hesitated. “I wanted to start my own event company one day.”

  “Why didn’t you finish?”

  There was the tiniest pause before she answered. “Wesley got deployed mid-semester. We got married before he left, and I found out I was pregnant while he was gone. Going to school and working and being a mom was a little much.”

  Too bad. She seemed like an amazing decorator. The kind who deserved her own company. He threw butter in a frying pan and turned the heat up. “I’d figure you for a three-egg omelet, but then I thought you were a wing girl.”

  “Three eggs is good.” He cracked three in a bowl and she got up from the stool to join him at the stove.

  “How long have you been a vegetarian?”

  “Ten years. I saw the kind of documentary you shouldn’t watch if you enjoy eating meat. I just couldn’t look at it the same again.”

  “But before that, you were a wing girl, right?”

  She was standing so close they bumped shoulders. “Absolutely.” She picked up the bowl of eggs and dropped them in the pan. Melted butter splattered and she jumped back, cradling her hand.

  “Are you okay?” Ty took her hand without even thinking about it, wanting to see how bad the burn was. He held it gently in his as a red welt began puffing up.

  “I’ve got a first-aid kit under the sink.” He grabbed the ointment and reached for her hand again.

  “That’s okay, I’m fine.”

  “You need to treat it or it’ll blister.”

  She reluctantly gave her hand back. The burn was mostly on her palm, but a little butter had splashed onto her ring finger and left its mark there too. He moved the ointment around, trying to avoid her ring but accidentally brushing against it. Camille’s hand jerked back.

  “I’m fine now, thank you.”

  “Just let me get you a bandage.” He was already reaching into the first-aid kit.

  “I said I’m fine.” Her whole body was stiff.

  “Camille—”

  “I’m fine, Ty. What do you not understand about that?” She was spinning her wedding ring around. Ty tried not to be irritated by it. There was no reason for him to be. They were neighbors. Just neighbors.

  Keep telling yourself that.

  Ty’s back grew rigid. “You’re just being stubborn.”

  Camille’s glare intensified. “No, I’ve just been taking care of myself for a long time and don’t need you doing it for me. I’m not helpless.”

  “I didn’t say you were.”

  “Then stop treating me like a child.”

  “I’m not. You’ve just got a stubborn streak the size of Texas.”

  “Well, your control-freaky nature is stampeding all over my stubborn streak.”

  The chatter on the other side of the kitchen door died down. Camille and Ty glared at each other.

  “Maybe I’d better go. It’s close to Evie’s bedtime.”

  “It’s only six o’clock.”

  Camille paused. “She goes to bed early.” She moved for the door, and Ty flashed back to his last fight with Mia. Same door. Different woman walking out of it.

  Except Camille’s not Mia.

  And Liam wasn’t stealing her away. Ty was pushing her away all on his own.

&nbs
p; “Camille, wait. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “I’m not upset.” She pushed the door open.

  Ty followed her into the dining room. “Camille, come on.”

  She kept her back to him as she got Evie out of her seat, then hurried out of the house with an almost inaudible, “Goodbye.” Nikki sat there a minute looking confused, then gave Ty and Dillon an apologetic smile and hurried after them.

  Ty stood there dumbfounded. How had things gone so wrong so fast?

  Dillon looked over at him. “Don’t worry, Camille’s not the first person your cooking’s driven away. I’m sure she won’t be the last.”

  Maricela threw a dinner roll at him. “You are so not funny.”

  Chapter Six

  The sun had only been out a few minutes when Ty went into the kitchen and started coffee. He needed a minute alone before the day began and two dozen veterans came down the stairs depending on him. Phoebe would be here in a few hours. This last weekend with Camille would either fix everything or be all for nothing.

  Nothing?

  Okay, maybe not nothing. Ty liked spending time with Camille. Maybe a little too much. No more of that. Even if Ty wanted to move beyond the friendly neighbor phase, which he didn’t, he’d be fighting an uphill battle. It was hard enough competing against a flesh and blood man; what chance did he have against a memory?

  From now on, no more dinners, no more joking around, no more fun. Things with Camille were business, pure and simple. His emotions would stay in check, and the situation under control. Just how Ty liked it.

  He took his mug into the living room and flipped the light switch. Something moved in the easy chair and he almost jumped.

  “Emmitt? What are you doing?” Other than sitting in the dark. Alone.

  He does look like Clint Eastwood, doesn’t he? Tall and strong and brooding.

  Emmitt didn’t say anything right away, and Ty’s eyes shifted to the mug in his hand. Emmitt caught the look and obviously knew where Ty’s mind was going. “It’s coffee.” He set it on the side table.

  Ty nodded and tried to push his doubts off, but not staring at that mug was like trying not to breathe. “Want some breakfast?”

  Emmitt stood up. The mug stayed where it was. “Maybe later.” He walked out of the room, and Ty scooped the mug up. Empty. He held it to his nose. It smelled like coffee.

  Dillon came into the room. “Thought I heard voices. Talking to yourself again?”

  Ty’s glare was enough to silence Dillon’s jokes. “Emmitt was in here. Alone. In the dark.”

  Dillon understood where Ty was going. “Oh, no.”

  “He said it was just coffee, but I don’t know. Who sits in the dark drinking coffee?”

  “Emmitt.” Dillon crossed the room and took the mug. He sniffed. “Smells like coffee to me.”

  “Yeah, but what if—”

  “Benefit of the doubt. Remember? We promised him.”

  Easier said than done, but he would give it a try. His own coffee was getting cold. Dillon followed him into the kitchen and poured himself a cup, scooping mountains of sugar into it before dousing the whole thing in cream. “What time is Camille getting here?”

  Ty hesitated. “Nine, I guess.”

  Dillon looked up. “You guess?”

  “Well, that was the plan before she stormed out of here last night.”

  “What was up with that anyway?”

  But it was too early in the morning to talk baggage, especially when it wasn’t his. “She thought I was treating her like a child.”

  “Were you?” Dillon sipped his coffee.

  “No, I was just trying to help her.”

  “You mean like how you’re always trying to help everyone?” He stirred his spoon around his cup. “You know what Jon would say?”

  Ty wasn’t gonna do this. “I do. A lot better than you. He’d tell me to get my head together and concentrate on Phoebe. That’s what’s important right now.”

  “Ty—”

  But he was done. He rinsed the rest of his coffee down the sink and left the kitchen.

  When a car pulled up at eight o’clock, Ty was sure it was Phoebe. She’s early. Panic set in. Camille wasn’t here yet. He quickly dusted his hands on his pants and closed the gate to the stables.

  The car door opened, and Ty’s panic evaporated as a dog the size of a football came running out. Hot chocolate, liquid smoke and whipped cream mixed together to create the color of Co-Coe’s fur. She danced around his ankles with a voice more whisper than bark as he bent over to pat her head.

  “Been a while since I’ve seen you.” The dog licked his hand, and Avery waved to him from her car. He waved back, kicking himself for not recognizing it sooner. He called out to her. “How’ve you been?”

  Avery pulled dark brown hair into a low ponytail. “Busy. Is Emmitt around?”

  Good question. “He was inside last I saw him. Does he know you’re coming?”

  “I told him. Whether or not he heard me is up for debate.”

  Now Ty understood Emmitt’s moodiness this morning. Avery started for the house. Ty called after her. “Hey, don’t let Emmitt squirm his way out of your talk. If he runs, go after him.”

  “What do you think I brought Co-Coe for? Best attack dog ever.” She called for Co-Coe, who wagged her tail and gave Ty a final lick, then shot to Avery’s side.

  Ty went back to his work, and when he checked the time again it was nine fifteen. His neck went stiff. Camille still wasn’t here. There were no voice mails. No texts. Maybe the time on his phone was wrong.

  He went into the house and checked the clock hanging over the fireplace. Nine seventeen. Imaginary waves crashed over him. For one second he was back in the Pacific Ocean and Jon was calling out for help as lightning struck over their heads and thunder cracked around them.

  Ty focused on the clock, trying to push the thought away, but the clock wasn’t doing it for him. It was Camille who popped into his head. Not Mia or the laugh that used to drive him wild. Not a flash of the soft caresses he’d missed so much since she’d walked out the door.

  Camille.

  Her eyes were bluer than the Pacific could ever hope to be. They smiled, and Jon’s cries faded away. Ty took a deep breath. It had been a year since he’d had that kind of panic attack.

  Get it together. You’re fine. You’ve got it all under control.

  Right. Ty had this. He just needed to figure out where Camille was. She’d said nine o’clock, and now it was... Ty’s heart stopped. Nine twenty-five. How long had he been standing here? He dug his phone out and dialed Camille’s number. No answer. He sent her a text and stared at the screen. Still no answer.

  Was she really gonna stand him up because of a silly fight? After all the work they’d put in?

  Avery’s voice came down the hall. “Emmitt, stop. Let’s talk about this.”

  Emmitt entered the room and froze when he saw Ty. Gray eyes bounced from him to the front door. Avery was walking so fast she almost ran into him. “Emmitt, come on. You can’t keep running from me.”

  For a second it looked like he might respond. Emmitt’s mouth opened and his lips parted, but then they closed again just as fast. Emmitt made a beeline for the door and got out of there before Avery could stop him.

  Her shoulders slumped. “Have you ever met anyone more stubborn than my brother?” She wiped her eyes and forced a smile. Co-Coe zipped out of nowhere and started whisper-barking around her ankles until Avery picked her up.

  The dog licked her face, and Avery’s smile grew a little less forced. “What are you up to?” Maybe she wanted the distraction. Or maybe she could tell Ty was having a moment of his own.

  He could use a sounding board right now either way. “Phoebe Saylor’s gonna be here in—” he looked at the clock again “—twenty-five m
inutes. And the woman who’s been helping me is missing.”

  Avery stroked Co-Coe’s fur. “You mean Camille?” She arched her eyebrow. It wasn’t the Spock look Camille got away with, but it wasn’t bad.

  “Have you met her?”

  “I saw Dillon in town the other day. He filled me in.” She set Co-Coe down and the tiny dog went to investigate a piece of lint. “How late is she?”

  Ty didn’t want to think about it. “She was supposed to be here at nine.”

  Avery winced. “You tried calling?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And texting?”

  “Repeatedly.”

  Avery shrugged. “Well, I’m no decorator, but I know enough not to suggest balloons and streamers. If you want, I can stick around till she shows up.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I don’t mind. At least then my visit wouldn’t be for nothing.”

  Ty wasn’t sure that was such a good idea. This was Camille’s gig, and he’d already stepped on her toes enough times to make them bruise. He checked his phone again. No voice mails. No texts. Twenty minutes left. If Camille was leaving him in the lurch, it meant she was leaving him with only one choice.

  * * *

  Camille dropped Nikki and Evie off at the house, then stepped on the gas. There was no time to walk. She couldn’t believe how late she was. Buffy sputtered white smoke as she came to a stop outside the barn. She hopped out, assuming Ty was already inside.

  The doors were open, and she ran in. “Hi, sorry I’m—”

  Ty was standing next to a slender woman with long dark hair and gray eyes. They were shoulder to shoulder. Camille’s “sorry” wavered on her tongue. A practiced smile forced itself onto her face.

  She couldn’t tell if Ty was happy to see her or if she’d interrupted something. He walked toward her. The woman followed. “Where were you? I thought you weren’t coming.”

  Camille blinked. “Why would you think that?”

  Ty’s crooner voice lost the croon and sounded more like an out-of-tune piano. “You’re forty-five minutes late. I called you a dozen times. I thought you were still mad about yesterday, so I asked Avery to help out.”