Page 87 of Sand in My Boots

“DoorDash. Mariana’s Café.” He checks his watch. “Hurry, though. They aren’t open much longer.”

“You do coffee. Make mine a large. I’ll do dinner and condoms.”

“Your bossiness is a turn-on, Juliana.”

“My name from your lips is the same.” But because we have things to do, I hurry from the bedroom into the living area, looking for the resort phone to order dinner.

Ten minutes later, we’re settled on the balcony, waiting for our orders. He placed the coffee order in the nick of time. And since it’s between mealtimes, our dinner won’t be that long. As for the condoms, those might be a while. Good thing we have other things to occupy ourselves.

Cameron maneuvered the coffee table out the slider. The balcony isn’t meant to accommodate a table this large, but he made it work for today. Our chairs sit across from each other. The September sun blazes in the sky, and humidity stifles around us. Yet, being out here with Cameron is enjoyable.

“Should we wait for dinner before we dive into our conversation?”

“Nope. What’s up?” It sounds so casual, but this discussion will be anything but.

He licks his lips, rubbing his hands together, as if he has this all planned out. “Let’s start with the obvious. Why are you here?”

I don’t mince words. “To see you. To pick up where we left off. Was that not obvious?”

He’s skeptical at first, his brows scrunching. “Can you elaborate on the whole ‘to pick up where we left off’? As I already told you, this wasn’t casual for me, and I’m not prepared to do more of the same casual with you.” He almost chokes on the word casual the second time.

The sentiment warms my heart. When he said it before, I was too shocked at seeing him to process it all. Reiterating it now makes it all the more real.

“I don’t want casual with you either.” I have more I want to say, but the words don’t come immediately. I’m not sure exactly how to ask the questions I want answered. Especially because if he gives me any other answer than the one I want, I’m going to be disappointed.

On the flight and car ride to the resort, I spent a lot of time thinking about how a relationship between Cameron and me could work. In the short-term, we can do long-distance. It’s not ideal, but it’s one thousand times better than not having him in my life. The two weeks without him were misery. Of course, it would be a little different because there’d be an agreement of what we are to each other, a label, one much better than friends.

I didn’t let my mind wander much past the short-term. Like weeks ago during our fling, I’ll take it one day at a time, as long as each day is with Cameron, I’ll be a lucky girl.

Before I can elaborate, his watch pings. Glancing at it, he states, “Coffee’s here. Be right back.” He hops out of his chair and brushes his lips across my cheek. “I’m glad you’re here.”

My heart swoons, getting big ideas. Ideas we still need to discuss. Try explaining that to the organ that’s now fallen harder for this man.

Cameron’s gone for a few minutes, and in that time, I don’t think the smile leaves my face. I’m such a goner for this man, falling deeper when he’s not here. Knowing he wants more than casual with me leaves me staggering with plans and ideas.

It’s not only my heart getting ahead of itself.

The balcony offers a spectacular view of the beauty of Whispering Tide, and my eyes scan the grounds. Palm trees offer shade to the people below. Twinkle lights illuminate one of the grassy areas. In the distance, the brownish-blue water of the Atlantic Ocean shimmers. The splendor of the resort adds another layer to being back in Cameron’s orbit.

Cameron’s footsteps drag my attention from the view. “Bless your heart,” I mutter when I spot the very large coffee cup in his hands. “It doesn’t bode well this place delivers here. It could be very bad for me. Very good, but terrible as well.”

Cameron nods. “I understand. I have a love-hate relationship with it myself. It’s easy to become addicted.” He hands my cup to me. “Where were we?”

My mind scrolls back to where we left off in our discussion. “Neither of us wanting casual.”

“Okay.” He drags his chair closer to mine, motioning me to scoot over so there’s enough room for both chairs on this side of the table. Which there isn’t. The fact he wants to be closer lifts my heart. “Not casual. So, dating?”

Thinking quickly, I add, “Exclusively.”

“That’s a given, but noted. Free yourself up for tomorrow night. I’ll take care of the details.”

“Like I’m so busy.” I can’t stop the eye roll.

“What about work?”

“Brought it with me. I’ve got some flexibility on hours, but I usually work about five hours a day, sometimes more, sometimes less. Next week will be busier because I added an extra project. Are your hours the same every day?”

He shakes his head. “No, not really. I don’t have set hours, though I tend to come to work early. Some days I work a solid eight to nine hours. On other days, it’s shorter. Occasionally, I’ll work a morning shift, and if there’s something at night I need to do, I’ll go home in the middle of the day and come back. And I’ve been known to spend the entire day here, in some ‘working’ capacity. We’ll figure it out as we go.”