Finally Found

They ate their sandwiches while chatting over the plans. Adam discovered very quickly that he liked being in charge. He wasn’t accustomed to that, but now, here he was, running the Hamptons house and Cammie, too. That last part almost gave him the most pleasure of all. If only she didn’t have such a strong stance on the whole no sex part. He really wanted to see if they were as passionate in bed as they were out of it. He had never fought with anyone like this before. It might not seem like a big deal to most guys, but there was something about being able to fight with someone and not worry that it was going to escalate into something ugly and dangerous. He had grown up with friends who spent much of their childhood with their stomachs in knots. Their parents fought constantly, there were repeated threats of divorce, and they never even seemed to like each other much let alone love each other. He never wanted that. Living with his family was so different.

For years, he slept around. There’s no tension in that. There’s no commitment, no responsibility. He could be charming and sweet and devoted for four or five hours and get on with his life. He never had to wonder whether they would fight like cats and dogs or get on like lambs and lions. The few women he had brought to the Hamptons house over the years had been such a huge disappointment that he had stopped doing that. He grew tired of trying to evict one girl after another. He detested needy chicks that had to be entertained every moment. That was why Cammie was such as lovely change of pace in every respect.

While he slept, she went grocery shopping. She didn’t ask for money, of course he had made it perfectly clear that for the time, he didn’t have any. He hadn’t had to ask her to stay or beg her to leave. She was her own person. She was driven and determined. She seemed perfectly capable. And if her cooking was done as well and as efficiently as she did everything else, this would be a holiday to remember. Hell, it would be a holiday season to remember. She was going to rock the catering industry and put at least one company out of business. He rubbed his hands as they sat near the roaring fire. He smiled as he imagined that dusty old Dinners by Dash having to work as a greeter at the local Wal-Mart. Even that was too good for the cranky old bat.

“What are you thinking?” Cammie asked as she held her spoon aloft. She wore this expression that showed just how hard she was trying to analyze his actions.

“Well, I think you are going to be a huge success.” He leaned back happily, his belly full of soup and sandwich while he stared at a plate of rich chocolatey brownies. “How the hell did you pull this off?”

“Listen, I haven’t even opened my doors yet, I can’t start giving away catering secrets already.” She chuckled. He leaned in and she caved. “Ah, but it you must know, I used a mix for the brownies that I dressed up and then made my own. I can’t imagine I could do better than Ghirardelli. The bread was homemade at the bakery; I just sliced it here. I think it adds a little something extra to a sandwich. And while I can bake my own bread, I can’t do it in twenty minutes. The soup…is from scratch. I love making tomato soup. Once you’ve done it as many times as I have, well, I can practically make it in my sleep.” She smiled as she basked in the fire and compliments.

“Wow. Just…wow.” He leaned back and studied her. “You are amazing.”

“You are still not getting in my pants.” She smirked.

Adam shook his head. “And just when did I suggest that I wanted to ‘get in your pants,’ as you so eloquently put it? I believe you set me straight on that last night. So, I have let that little fantasy die a slow and painful death.” He clutched at his chest as though the experience had broken his heart and earned another chuckle.

“Well, finally we are on the same page. Now that I’ve given away all my lunch trade secrets, let’s focus on Thanksgiving and your Black Friday Black Tie Event.” She smiled as she pulled out her phone ready to access all the ideas she had magically stored inside.

He tilted his head to the side. “I think that has a nice ring to it. Let’s call it that on the invitations.”

“You do realize that we really don’t have time for traditional invitations?” She raised an eyebrow to show how wary she was of the next words that were about to escape his lips.

“You do realize that in this digital age, we can send out mass invitations by email and have responses in hours instead of days and weeks?” He glanced at her poking away on the screen. “You of all people should know that.”

“What’s that mean?” She looked ready to jump down his throat.

“You do everything on that little mini computer you carry around with you. That’s all. Damn you are touchy.” He shook his head.

“Menu. Let’s talk about something we might actually agree on.” With that, the frown took up residence on his face once more. Just because they could fight and he didn’t feel insecure about it, it didn’t mean that he wanted to. Sam and Haley never fought…anymore. All their past fights were pretty much caused by Sam being a dumbass anyway. He sighed.

Cammie studied him across the table. He seemed really enthusiastic, highly motivated, and only mildly annoying. He was practically a credit to his kind. Then she remembered the last 117 parties they had both been at. That was all it took for those compliments on the tip of her tongue to slip away.

“I believe I mentioned that Thanksgiving is my favorite cooking holiday. So, I make as much as possible from scratch. The question is, with this being family and the Hamptons house, which is considerably less fancy than any of the homes I’ve seen you in, would you prefer to keep it homey or stick to fancy? It’s practically the same ingredients. I’m only changing how I assemble them. And maybe I’d have the market deliver one or two things that I didn’t pick up yet.” She smiled and waited for a response.

He cleared his throat. “What are my options? I mean…I don’t want oyster stuffing or any of that nonsense. I never developed a taste for gizzards. I shudder at the thought of pate…that was never at the first Thanksgiving. The idea of a nice down home Thanksgiving sounds pretty perfect to me.” Adam looked at her. “You know, I’ve heard that they do this big kick off of the holiday season around 7pm near the town hall. We could go, sing some carols, and watch the lighting of the Christmas tree. There are usually concession stands there selling S’mores kits and hot cocoa.”

She shook her head emphatically. “No.”

“Listen, I understand not mixing business and pleasure, but it’s the holidays and everyone else is going to be around. I thought just maybe…” He knew he must look defeated to her, but he didn’t know what to say.

“We’ll bring our own S'mores kits. I have a secret super special way of making them. As for the cocoa, I am confident that if we pack a couple of thermoses of mine, you’ll never be satisfied with anyone else’s again.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

Smiling, he realized how disappointed he had been for a moment. He thought about how important it was to him that they go. Though he had never been a big joiner before, this year felt different. This year, with Cammie around, he wanted to do things he had never done before…even if it meant risking seeing people he didn’t want to see and hanging out longer than necessary with those he no longer wanted to spend time with. That cocktail party might kill him, but he would do anything to give her a huge shot at success.

Beaming, Cammie said, “So…I like my turkey savory.”

“As opposed to?” He asked utterly puzzled.

“Sweet.” She made a face. “My mother is big on this apple walnut stuffing that she swears by. Only, I swear if I have to eat sweet turkey one more time, I’ll become a vegan. That would teach her.”

Grimacing, he responded, “No sweet turkey. Savory. And seriously…surprise me. We don’t have any traditions. My father spent the day in front of the television with friends, watching the football games. It’s one of the few times a year I’d ever get to see him being emotional. My mom would hang out in the kitchen, making everything perfect…unless her parents were around. Then she was in the kitchen making everything perfect while downing cocktails.” He laughed at the memory. “Just make it homey. Your idea of homey. It’s going to be a special day.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Sam is going to propose.” Then he placed a finger over his lips to convince her to keep their secret.

“Ohhh! I love it. And I get to be here. How wonderful!” With that, she popped out of her chair and rushed from the room.

Adam followed her carrying all the dirty dishes. “Here. You forgot these.”

“No, I didn’t.” She was puttering around the kitchen humming happily, pretty much ignoring him entirely.

“Well, these dishes aren’t going to clean themselves,” he said jokingly, remembering her comment at the trunk of the car.

Stopping what she was doing, she straightened and looked at him sternly. “I cook, you cleanup. That’s the way it works.”

He looked at her a moment. She was serious. He began to open his mouth to object when she interrupted him.

“I’m not your servant, Adam. We are here as equals even if our bank accounts aren’t. I’m saving you from Kiki and your brother; you are helping me build my company and creating a campaign. We have to eat and I enjoy cooking, but I am not your maid, your butler, or…okay, for now I’m your chauffer.” She chuckled a bit.

He was still standing there, plates and bowls in hand, shocked. Sure none of the girls from his past had cleaned up after him, but there were always those to clean up after both of them. It worked out really well. Was this what it was like to be married in a two income household? His mother had run the house, with help and his father worked outside of the home. His father never did anything around the house. Now, he was supposed to clean?

“Hey, genius, the sink is behind you.” He knew his mouth had to be hanging open. She sighed. “Fine. I’ll wash, you dry.” Then she walked over, took everything out of his hands, headed to the sink and after setting everything in the huge porcelain farmhouse style sink, and started the water.

This woman. He didn’t even know where to begin. She was simply…refreshing. There was something so comfortable about being around her, spending time with her. He never had to walk on egg shells, worry that some offhand remark would injure, or worry about how she would take anything. Truth be told, she left him stinging much of the time. It was a really nice surprise to meet someone who looked like a porcelain doll, but was as tough as nails.

He was still thinking about that as he started drying the first bowl she passed him. He wasn’t paying much attention as lost in thought as he was…which may be how it all started. He set the bowl down on the marble counter a little too hard. The noise was shocking and he half expected it to break, but instead they were both just staring at it for a moment.

“Gawd, I’m going to have to start calling you butter fingers.” Apparently she didn’t feel like he was paying attention, or maybe she simply wanted to get a reaction from him.

All Adam knew for certain was that one moment he was standing there lost in thought, drying a bowl, the next minute he was covered in hot soapy water. It dripped from his dark brown hair onto his sweater. Bubbles hung on the end of his nose. There was water pooling at his feet. “Really?” He asked, brushing away bubbles and pushing his hair back from his face. “Really? Because two can play that game.” As he finished that thought, he was scooping water and bubbles with the bowl from his hand and splashing her with it.

“Hey!” She began with a giggle. “This isn’t a wet t-shirt contest.”

Even as she said it, his eyes were drawn to her chest. It was the perfect size, a nice handful, full and round. Her nipples were peeking through the wet pink shirt. Cammie looked incredibly attractive, seriously sexy, and he felt the blood drain from his face and head south of his equator until he was hard as hell. He turned away in embarrassment.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She asked teasing him. “I’m the one with her boobs all exposed in a wet shirt.”

“Yeah, and I’m just the guy standing here trying to hide his raging hard on because you’re standing there in a wet shirt!” He had no idea why he had said that out loud. He was almost afraid to look at her after that admission.

“Well, let’s go then,” she said and headed out of the kitchen. She paused when she realized he wasn’t behind her. “Are you coming?”

“Where are we going?” He asked weakly.

“The guest room. We both have some stuff we need to work out.” She started out of the room once more and disappeared completely. A moment later, she leaned around the doorway. “Are you coming or not? One way or another, I’m will be.” She winked at him.

That spurred Adam to action and soon enough he was scampering through the door, chasing after her like some inexperienced school boy. “But you said we weren’t going to sleep together. You said no sex…” He prepared to come up with several more explanations but she had already walked into the guest room and peeled off her shirt.

“Are you trying to talk me out of it?” She asked, seriously. “Honestly, I don’t need your help with this. I can absolutely do it myself. I just thought it’d be more fun with you, since you are here, since we are both consenting adults, since there’s little chance that you will misinterpret this as being anything other than what it is.” She turned as she kicked off her shoes and tore off her socks, then she unhooked the button, lowered the zipper, and eased the jeans off her hips. “In or out, dude.”

For some reason, even though they were completely alone, he closed the door behind him. Turning to face her, he said, “Okay. Let’s do this.” He was down to his blue boxer briefs in a matter of seconds when it suddenly occurred to him that he had no idea what ‘this’ was. “So what is this?”

“This…is biology. I’m horny. You’re definitely horny,” she said as she stroked the length of him through the soft cotton. “I haven’t done this for a while and you have plenty of experience. Figured I might as well take advantage of the situation.” She let go of him long enough to unhook her bra and let it slide down her arms to expose those creamy firm peach tipped breasts that started this entire experience.

He should thank them. He was still uncertain, but now he was in a situation he was far more comfortable with. He grabbed for the back of her head and pulled her close, but she put a hand over his mouth to stop him.

“Didn’t you see Pretty Woman?” She shook her head. “No kissing on the mouth.”

There was so much he wanted to say to that. Of course, he had seen that movie. Was she truly comparing herself to a hooker? With who was she worried about getting emotionally involved? In an instant, he knew if either of them was going to have a problem when this…relationship…took its natural course, it would be he. He swallowed hard and avoided looking at her eyes before he bent his head and slowly licked and sucked on her beautiful breasts.