cooler than the inside of his and Eden knew she’d made the right choice in asking him for help.
Cam took the lead once the front door was closed behind them, using his flashlight to help navigate around and through packing boxes and debris to get to the basement.
Eden followed, happy not to be going down into the blackness of the basement alone.
The circuit box was under the stairs and one flip of the main breaker set music playing upstairs, letting them know it had worked.
“There’s a light here,” Cam said, pulling a string that turned on a bare bulb under the steps to prove his point.
Eden hadn’t realized until that moment how close they were standing. Or in what position. But they were standing very close in the small space beneath the stairs, and he’d pivoted away from the breaker box to face her.
They were so close that she had to look almost straight up at him, the way she might have tipped her head if they were about to kiss.
Which, of course, they weren’t.
But once more that strange Cam-trance thing happened and she suddenly found herself staring up into his dark eyes, thinking about what it might be like if he did kiss her. If he just leaned down a little and pressed his lips to hers.
Cam Pratt, of all people…
Then it registered that her mind was wandering again and Eden yanked herself out of it, stepping from under the stairs in a hurry.
“I’d better go turn some things off or this is going to trip again,” she said as her exit excuse, dashing up the steps far ahead of Cam.
She had turned off the stereo and some of the lights by the time he reached her, and she could hear the heat switching on.
“I really appreciate this,” she told him as he headed for the front door.
“I keep one of those lights that work on batteries stuck to the wall next to the breaker box down there so when this happens I have that option, too. In case the flashlight isn’t easy to get to for some reason.”
“That’s a fabulous idea,” she said, too effusively because she was overcompensating for calling him stupid all those years ago. She toned it down and added, “Plus I’ll be more careful about how many things I have on at once. But you know how it is when you move—I was going from room to room looking for what I needed in all the boxes so every light was on.”
He merely nodded. There wasn’t anything to say to her ramblings. But he was watching her with those penetrating eyes again as they stood at her door. Eden wasn’t sure what else to say, either.
Cam broke the silence—and the meeting of their eyes—by glancing at her pajama pants again.
“Ducky pants, huh?”
“They were my back-to-the-cold-of-Montana present to myself.”
He sighed. “Well, I guess you’re right, you can’t hate somebody in ducky pants.”
This time Eden smiled. “Does that mean I’ve been granted amnesty?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead he raised his gaze to hers once again and gave her a small, forgiving smile. “Yeah, I suppose it does.”
Eden wasn’t sure if she’d been carrying around even more guilt than she’d realized or if it had something to do with how bowled over she’d been by this guy from the start, but the relief she felt was like a huge, heavy weight lifted from her shoulders. And she was far more pleased than seemed warranted, too.
But she decided to simply enjoy it and smiled back at him a second time. “Thank you,” she said, meaning it.
He merely nodded and opened her door to go.
“And thanks again for help with the breaker box,” she called to his back as he walked across her porch.
He didn’t turn around, he just raised the hand that held his flashlight and said, “Anytime.”
And as Eden closed her door to the sight of that man who had so enthralled her already tonight, she was a little shocked at just how tempting it was to turn on every light in the house, hit the microwave start button the way she had earlier and trip the breaker all over again.
Just so she could take him up on that offer and get him back there.
Cam Pratt.
Of all people.
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