“Gotta Get You into My Life”
Nathan
“All set.” She grinned. “Minimal hair catastrophe, I hope. Guess I should go primp in the ladies’ room for a while to bolster my ladylike status.” She wrinkled her nose. “On second thought, I’m starving. Let’s get right to the steak and pound the last nail in the coffin of my feminine wiles.”
“Far be it from me to complain about a beautiful, low-maintenance woman who loves red meat,” I said as I led her toward the door. “I may be in love.” She quickly shot me a questioning look and then giggled as I waggled my eyebrows her way. The seating hostess led us past large, open barbecue pits groaning with steak and ribs and to a picnic table under a large tree. Beyond the area where other diners were tucking into plates of delicious-smelling food, the western band was readying for their set.
“Evening’s perfect, Camille,” I said, settling into the picnic bench next to her. “Trouble is, we’ve both copped to the fact that we don’t date, so I have a proposal for you. Sort of a first date survival guide for tonight.” I asked the server for a couple of Sam Adams and watched Camille’s face.
“Okay, I’m listening.” She leaned her chin on her elbows and faced me. “I’d wondered how this would go. If you have a starting place, I’m all ears.”
“For this groundbreaking first date, I propose we make a genuine effort to tell the truth and avoid any and all bullshit games.” Her eyebrows went up, but the smile remained. “Truth is, I’m not sure I remember how the game is played anyway, so this might just be my attempt at surviving without making a complete ass of myself. Either way, we’ll be trying something that’s never been done—what do you say?” I smiled and leaned back to await her thoughts. It was a calculated risk to offer up the truth, especially considering the substantial emotional baggage I was lugging. If she dug in, I might have to discuss things I’d never talked about before.
She looked thoughtful, considering my idea, and then her eyes met mine. She cocked her head and smiled. “I’ll accept your proposal, Nathan, because my reasons and doubts may be identical to yours. But we’ll never know unless we wade in.” She paused, her demeanor sobering somewhat, and then took a deep breath. “There’s a reason I stopped dating a long time ago, just as I’m sure there’s a good reason you did. I don’t talk about it—not ever. I haven’t ever felt tempted to make a change, but it feels like a precarious position now.” She accepted the cold bottle from our server and took a long drink.
The bench we were seated on faced west. A fading sunset decorated the horizon in a million shades of pink and orange. The band began to play, the strains of western band provided the perfect soundtrack for the end of the day and the beginning of our night together. I moved a little closer to Camille, turning to take in the sweet smell of her hair, and placed my arm across the back of the bench, my fingers lightly stroking her bare shoulder. “Did you ever watch any of the old western movies when you were a kid?”
Her expression was questioning. “Westerns? Oh no. Father was far too serious for something so frivolous.” She shook her head vigorously, laughing.
“No, really? I’m making a note to remedy this oversight,” I teased. “No Roy Rogers? Gene Autry? No My Pal Trigger? There’s a gaping hole in your childhood, Camille.” I smiled at her but noticed that her smile faltered at my last statement. I squeezed her shoulder lightly. “Oh, Camille, I’m so sorry. I’ve already hit a nerve, haven’t I?”
She shook her head quickly. “No, Nathan, it’s not your fault. It’s a pothole in the road and you were bound to hit it, early and hard. I don’t bring it up because it’s difficult to talk about, and there’s rarely a need to. My friends know the score.” She took another long drink of the cold beer and fixed her gaze on the evolving patterns in the sunset. “My parents didn’t want me, didn’t plan to have kids.” There was another pause, and then she continued, “I wasn’t abused, at least not physically, but they just weren’t interested.”
I felt my gut clench. Who the fuck didn’t take an interest in their child? How could your beautiful daughter not be the light of every day of your life? I couldn’t fathom it, especially considering my background—a big, loud family. Intrusive, invested, loving.
“I mean, I’m okay,” she continued hurriedly. “I’m not angry or bitter. Not a candidate for The Jerry Springer Show.” She laughed without humor. “I just don’t identify with some things like a lot of regular, well-adjusted people do.”
I gave the silence its moment, collecting my thoughts to avoid another misstep. “Help me here, angel. What kinds of things do you mean?” As soon as the words left my big mouth, I wondered if it was too much to ask. The air was heavy for another instant before she leaned forward, elbow on the table, and turned to face me. Her face was soft, but the ache in her eyes was easy to read.
“No fond memories of big family dinners with cousins or aunts and uncles. My parents were both only children, like me. The only grandparent I ever knew was my grandmother, and she didn’t speak to Father, so I seldom saw her. No big birthday parties with cake. I was rarely allowed to have friends visit or sleep over.” She sighed and continued. “Almost no physical affection—hugs or kisses. My mother came to piano recitals because someone had to drive me anyway, but no one was home to see me off to prom. Father gave me an allowance for a dress, and I picked it out on my own.”
She rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in frustration. “It sounds like I’m the host of the world’s most dramatic pity party.” Her shoulders sagged, and she sighed again, brow knitted. “That’s not my intent, Nathan. Other kids have had it worse. I see it in the ED almost every day. My parents fed me, gave me the basics, and never hit me. Some children aren’t even that fortunate.”
The air felt thick, and I tried to take in the idea of a child that didn’t matter to her parents. “I can’t imagine not loving and cherishing a child, Camille, especially one as bright and beautiful as you must have been. There must be some fascinating twists in your path that led you to become the woman you are, because your parents certainly didn’t see who you were—or could be.” We settled again, backs to the bench, studying the waning sunset, now pink and purple swaths against a dark sky.
She spoke again into the silence. “So many things happened after I left home, but I’ve mostly tried to make the best of what I am. Tried not to chase all the extras. I have my friends, my career. It’s rewarding, and it’s enough. The single time I thought I could hope for more, it slipped away. Right through my fingers.” Her voice, so strong through all the bleak revelations, broke almost imperceptibly. I was gripped by the unexpected need to protect this woman. She had already spent a lifetime protecting herself when others failed her.
The silence stretched longer this time, and I settled closer to her small form. She was soft, and the scent of her was so hypnotic that I fought the urge to nuzzle her neck. It was an effort to slow my breathing and think. Settle down, Nate. I didn’t want to overreact and send her running for emotional shelter.
The song the western combo sang now was one I knew well. My dad often sang it around the house, and now I hummed it quietly in her ear. The band crooned the melancholy ballad, “Tumbling Tumbleweed” with its forlorn themes of loneliness and solitude. How was a song from my childhood so fitting for the two of us, both struggling with the weight of what we’d lost?
As the song finished, her face turned to mine, and she lifted her soft mouth toward my own. I allowed myself to sink into her inky blue eyes. “What was once enough, beautiful girl, isn’t enough anymore. We may need to set our sights higher.” I touched my mouth to hers and allowed our lips to melt together. My tongue slid against hers, and she gave me her weight, soft breasts pressed against my chest. The velvet darkness wound around us, and she allowed me to taste her freely, my fingers sliding up one taut thigh and caressing warm skin under her skirt. Her hands restlessly slid through my hair before we pulled away, breathlessly remembering where we were.
“Oh, Nathan, I’m…” Her voice faded in the quiet, and she quickly straightened the sundress. A large campfire now blazed on the perimeter of the property, providing meager light to our table. That light barely illuminated her for my hungry gaze, breasts now visibly swelling above the sundress. Her nipples were stiffened peaks, asking for my mouth. My cock lengthened and pressed insistently against its confines, needing relief.
At the same moment, we sighed, shoulders sagging, and then looked at each other and laughed. The cloak of night offered safety from what could have been an awkward moment, and we both relaxed. The server took our order and said she’d return right away with another round of drinks. She hurried away, leaving the two of us alone again in the warm desert night.
“This is twice in two short days that you’ve swallowed me up in your eyes. That mouth hypnotizes me, angel. I want more, and it’s been a long time since I’ve wanted more. A very long time.” I paused and fixed an intense gaze on her face, her lovely eyes wide and lips parted. I could feel her breath on my face. “I feel lost, Camille.”
The corner of her mouth turned up on one side in an adorable smirk. “‘Maybe you should try Hare Krishna.’“ She dissolved into a giggle that eventually deteriorated into a little snort. Her blue eyes flew open wide, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God. I can’t believe I just snorted on a date. A first date.” She shook her head vigorously. “Seriously, Nate. You can’t take me anywhere. Sometimes I just crack myself up, and I’ll embarrass us both.” She flung her arm toward the parking lot. “Go on—save yourself. You have a career and your reputation to think of.” She giggled a little more as I shook my head in wonder. Who was this girl? I’d never met anyone like her. “Here’s the thing: it’s The Muppet Movie quotes. Any great movie quotes, you know? Caddyshack. Animal House. Little Shop of Horrors. But The Muppet Movie especially.” She shook her head at me, a huge grin illuminating her face. “You should send me packing while there’s still time.”
I caught her hand impulsively and brought it to my mouth. “Not a fucking chance, gorgeous.” I turned her hand and touched my lips lightly to her wrist, our eyes locked together. “This is just getting interesting.” I could feel the rapid beat of her pulse against my lips.
She pulled my hand into her lap and held it in both of hers. “So, Colonel Nathan Morgan—flyboy, frog-killer, and handsome bastard—what has killed off your love life so effectively? Surely every eligible female who’s ever walked past you has tried to drag you off to her lair.”
It was a fair question, and I knew this was a risk. But she’d bared herself in a way that had to be uncomfortable, and we did have a no-bullshit deal. I never discussed this with anyone, not even my dad, as close as we were. With a quick moment of reflection, though, this didn’t seem so bad. She felt like a safe haven.
“I’ve always been the serious one. The studious kid. Good grades, applying myself—you know the type. My family was so loving, so supportive, so not dysfunctional. I can’t lay this on them.” Her attentive smile encouraged me to continue. “UPT, Undergraduate Pilot Training, is a very demanding program wrapped up in a continuous year-long party. But even then, I kept mostly to myself. I mean, I wasn’t a monk. There were girls occasionally. But it was never very important to me, and there was never anyone special. Not until a few years ago.”
I took a long drink of the cold beer. “After I finished Command and Staff School in Montgomery, Alabama—about a year long—I’d been out of the cockpit long enough to require a few months of retraining here in Tucson. It wasn’t a long stay, but I met someone.” The sudden pain in my gut caught me off guard, almost as if someone had punched me in the stomach. “Her name was Eliott.” I wondered if I’d even spoken her name aloud since I said goodbye. The feel of it was foreign to my tongue.
“I’m still not sure I believe in love at first sight; but if it’s real, I felt it for her. We were so different, but I thrived on what she gave me. And she felt the same. We were two halves of a whole, and I fell hard and fast.” My eyes met Camille’s blue ones again, and I struggled for the right words. The pain in my stomach intensified.
“Then, one day, she was gone. We had plans, Camille; we’d already started to talk about forever. There was a ring.” I let go of the breath I’d been holding. All the pain returned in a rush. “It felt like someone tore my heart out of my chest.”
Camille’s warm hands held mine tight and squeezed, her eyes glued to mine. I shook my head and tried to explain. “It happened so suddenly, and I always thought…” This was so fucking hard. “If I’d just had time to prepare—to say things I needed to say. It would’ve been easier to let her go. But the truth is, I don’t believe you’re ever ready to say goodbye to someone you love. Not ever.”
Camille’s eyes were shiny with tears, and one spilled down an ivory cheek. Then another. Again the silence and the darkness settled around us. “No. You’re never ready. The time is never right to say goodbye when you’re in love. I understand, Nathan. I really do.” Our foreheads dropped and touched; my throat ached with grief that never left.
Then the tension eased, and Camille’s eyes again met mine. “But as Luckie says, ‘Life goes on, bitch.’” Her wide smile eased me. “What other choice do we have?” The earnest warmth radiating from her soothed like a balm for my fractured soul.
The band serenaded us and the fire crackled and the moon rose, gleaming in the desert night. What choice do we have? It seemed both of us had chosen to bench ourselves following a terrible injury, although I sensed I hadn’t yet heard all of Camille’s story. What kind of choice was that? Sitting on the sidelines of the game, watching victory and defeat play out, always too afraid to risk another injury.
The meal was delivered, and I’d rarely seen a woman consume steak with the passion Camille Sullivan brought to the dinner table. She was a complete delight, entertaining and enchanting me. She couldn’t finish a joke without destroying the punchline, and each story was peppered with overt gestures and asides. Staying on point or finishing an entire thought was mostly out of the question, and I was captivated. The evening was gone before I could believe it, and we were walking hand in hand toward the parking lot.
Holy fuck. You just never know what a day will bring.