“For her—or is she with someone?”
Megan shot him a curious look. “Just for her. I haven’t heard that she’s with anyone right now. I think she works too much to date.”
Carl nodded. For all she’d given him a hard time about his dedication to his company, it seemed like she was always working when he stopped by Fila’s for a meal. Which wasn’t very often these days—it was too damn awkward.
But after her workday was over, Camila went home every night. He supposed that made all the difference to her way of thinking. She’d been right three years ago; it wasn’t fair of him to think she’d wait around for months on end every time he had to put out a fire in California. She’d known it would be years before he was really ready to settle in Chance Creek—if ever.
Still, some part of him had always hoped they’d find their way back to each other.
“I guess she’s sick of waiting for her knight in shining armor and has decided to slay her own dragons,” Megan said.
Carl turned on her but realized she had no idea he and Camila had ever been a couple.
“Guess so.”
The idea of her buying a house ate at him, though.
“Something wrong?” Megan asked.
Everything was wrong, Carl thought. He didn’t have a ranch. Didn’t have a home to offer Camila so she didn’t have to buy her own.
Didn’t have Camila.
And damn it, he still wanted her.
Bad.
“Carl?” Megan was peering at him curiously.
“It’s just—” He broke off. He couldn’t explain any of this to Megan. She wasn’t the woman he should be talking to. He needed to find Camila. Tell her they’d both made a mistake. Tell her he was ready to make that promise she’d asked for.
Hell, he’d never leave Chance Creek again if it meant he could be with her.
It was as if Megan’s words had torn the scab right off the wound Camila’s refusal had left three years ago. He was kidding himself if he thought he was over that. If he thought he was ready to give up on the idea of a future together.
He wasn’t over it, and he wasn’t going to give up.
“I need a ranch,” he said.
“I know—that’s why we’re here.”
Megan must think he was an idiot.
Carl scanned the property in front of him again. It was small, but it was a working ranch. The house was a hovel—but he could tear it down and build a new one.
“Are you going to the Spring Fling Fair today?” Megan began to trudge back to her vehicle.
Spring Fling Fair? Carl hadn’t thought about it, but now he did. Camila would probably be there, running a food concession tent with Fila. He could bump into her casually. Strike up a conversation.
Ask her out and take the first step toward a future he was ready to fight for with everything he had.
“Yeah, I’ll be there. Listen, I want to make an offer on this place. First thing tomorrow,” he added when Megan turned in surprise.
“Really?”
“Really.” He was done screwing around. Done waiting to start this new phase of his life.
Done standing by while Camila moved on without him.
He’d hesitated once—and lost his chance to be with her.
He sure as hell wasn’t going to let that happen again.
This wasn’t the place.
Camila tried to hide her disappointment as Megan extolled the virtues of a kitchen so small its oven and fridge were three-quarters size. The house’s two bedrooms were hardly big enough to hold beds. It lacked hookups for a washer and dryer. The living room faced north, gloomy as a crypt on this beautiful spring morning.
“It’s in your budget,” Megan reminded her when she was done praising the scant two feet of chipped countertop.
“I guess I was hoping for something… more.”
Something that felt like home, at the very least. This place felt as temporary as the cabin she was renting from the Turners. She knew she should be grateful she could afford anything in Chance Creek, and she expected to buy a fixer upper.
It wasn’t the house that was depressing her.
It was the fact she’d be purchasing it alone.
Somehow, she’d always assumed she’d marry before purchasing her first home. Once she’d even thought she’d found the man she wanted to be with—
But Carl hadn’t been ready to settle down.
She’d done well for herself since. Improved her own business. Widened her circle of friends. She was staying right here, for good, and any man she chose to be with needed to be as committed to Chance Creek as she was.
Which was why she was house hunting alone. She’d never found met a man who’d replaced Carl in her heart. Hadn’t been trying all that much, if she was honest.
“Are you and Carl Whitfield an item?” Megan asked.
Camila swung around at the unexpected question. “Me and Carl?” Had Megan read her mind?
“He asked about you this morning. I didn’t know you two were friends.”
He’d asked about her?
Camila couldn’t say why the thought left her breathless. Against her better judgment, she pictured him in this kitchen, bumping against the counter in the too-small space, trying to maneuver around the table she’d have to add. He wouldn’t fit.
Which didn’t matter, she told herself firmly. Carl would never be in this house.
And she didn’t want to live here, either.
“I wouldn’t say friends. More like acquaintances.” She looked around the kitchen one last time, ignoring the pain her words conjured inside her. It hadn’t worked between her and Carl, and when something didn’t work, there was no sense trying to force it. “I don’t want this house,” she added.
Megan sighed. “I’ll see what else I can find and set up more viewings. Are you going to the Spring Fling Fair?”
“Fila and I are running a food booth.” Camila looked at her watch. “Better get a move on—she’ll wonder where I’ve gotten to. Thanks for showing me the place, even if it’s not right for me.” She hurried for the door.
“I’m not giving up,” Megan said, following her. “Sometimes you look
