A Family Under the Stars Page 13

  Unlike her ex-husband, Alex had been nothing but honest with her from the moment she’d met him. He’d never pretended to be something he wasn’t.

  This trip was obviously a pain in the neck for him and Charlotte didn’t need to exacerbate the tension by appearing unappreciative. She’d learned that lesson in boarding school, when Mitty Bachman had invited everyone from their hall to her bat mitzvah in her hometown of New York City. Charlotte didn’t have a way of attending since she was usually stuck at school during the weekends and holidays, but she’d written a nice card and asked her dad’s assistant to send a gift.

  When all the other girls returned after spring break, they were full of stories about Jasmine Del Re, a snotty eighth grader, who hadn’t bothered to RSVP and then showed up with several uninvited friends who’d depleted the candy station and taken extra party favors. Jasmine was never invited to another event outside of school, but Charlotte got to spend that June with the Bachmans in Southampton.

  It hadn’t cost much to be diplomatic and the reward had meant she wasn’t left alone at home all summer with the help.

  Society had certain rules and it was easiest to follow them if she wanted to fit in. So, instead of arguing with Alex or saying something that might suggest she didn’t appreciate him facilitating this trip at the last minute, Charlotte took her list out of the small pack she’d cinched around her waist and consulted it for the eighth time that morning.

  Since they would be gone for two nights this time, she’d brought additional food supplies and kitchen tools. Plus, her last article had addressed living off the land, and this one was supposed to be geared more toward a family excursion so she wanted to concentrate on kid-friendly foods and activities.

  When they pulled up to a clearing beside Sugar River, Alex parked behind his father. Vic had already unstrapped the girls from the back seat and Charlotte smiled in relief to see the huge grins on their faces. At least they were enjoying themselves.

  Elsa skipped over to them, her brown pigtails bopping in sync with her little pink sneakers. “Mommy, did you see how fast we were going? Did you see when Mr. Vic hit that tree branch and Com almost went flying out? Is this where we’re gonna camp? Are there bears here? I wanna see a bear and maybe it will want to sleep in my tent with me if I give it some honey. Did you bring any with us, Mommy?”

  Charlotte tried not to shudder at the thought of some huge grizzly eating a lot more than honey. She looked to Alex for help with explaining the dangers of feeding wild animals, but Audrey was already climbing onto his lap, pretending to steer the off-road vehicle.

  Maybe they should address childproofing the ATVs and the campsite first.

  Alex resecured one of Audrey’s braids with a dangling rubber band and Charlotte’s heart twisted. No matter how annoyed and inconvenienced he might seem when he was with her, he’d always been nothing but gentle and patient with her daughters. She would have loved to have a father who took the time to notice her hair color, let alone fix it for her.

  With Mitchell, Charlotte had been convinced that she could simply instruct him on how to be a caring daddy—as though she were teaching someone how to make a basic frittata. Unfortunately, she’d found out the hard way that paternal instincts weren’t something that could be taught. At least, not to anyone who had no desire to learn.

  Judging by the way he was now bending down and talking to the girls about the river’s current, Alex clearly had both the instinct and the know-how. Nobody would have to teach him how to be a dad.

  Realizing her improper train of thoughts, she slapped a hand to her head, then winced when the headband dug into her scalp. The pain was a good reminder to her brain that she needed to get her overactive imagination under control. Charlotte had no business thinking about Alex as a quasi father-figure or a quasi anything to her daughters. He’d reiterated that no-strings-attached rule before they’d even driven twenty feet.

  Charlotte’s insides were wound tight as she unbuckled herself and made her way over to where Vic and Com were unloading supplies. She forced a carefree smile before she spoke. “I had some ideas about how to stage things, but do you guys have a preference for where to put everything?”

  Commodore grunted around his toothpick. “My preference is to dump it all right here.”

  The clearing was long and narrow with about thirty feet of wild grass between the forest and the rocky shore of the river. The spot was breathtaking, no matter how she looked at it. However, from a photography standpoint, it would make more sense to set the tents up on the eastern-most side of the area. She racked her brain for a way to tactfully propose as much.

  “Dad, maybe you should take the girls to collect some wood,” Vic suggested, then winked at Charlotte.

  Commodore grumbled something about babysitting duty, then called Audrey and Elsa over and told them they were going to have a firewood gathering contest. Charlotte was about to protest that he didn’t have to entertain her children but Alex’s voice stopped her.

  “The old guy won’t admit that he tires out more easily nowadays. But trust me, he’d much rather run around with them than haul gear and set up the camp.”

  “Are you sure?” Charlotte wasn’t completely convinced. “I meant it when I said that I didn’t want us to be an inconvenience.”

  “He’s sure,” Vic spoke up. “Plus, it also keeps my father out of our way. He doesn’t like to miss an opportunity to remind us that nobody’s ever pitched a tent before without his expertise.”

  “Or caught a fish.” Alex smiled at his dad.

  “Or built a fire.” Vic was using his fingers to count off. “We could keep going if you’d like. But then he’d be back over here before we got done and accuse us of sitting around on our a—butts.”

  Charlotte laughed. “No, I get it. But later tonight I might like hearing a few stories about growing up with Commodore Russell.”

  “Then we’re going to need a lot of wood for that campfire.” Alex quirked his lips at her and her mouth went dry. Oh, boy. When that guy smiled, every ounce of decorum that had been drilled into Charlotte floated straight out of her head—along with half the oxygen. She looked around for the Nalgene bottle of water she’d brought with her and told herself it was simply the high altitude that had her so light-headed.

  For the next hour, she worked with Alex and his dad to make this little clearing resemble a photo-worthy vacation destination. Every so often, Charlotte would get distracted by the need to call out a warning to Audrey, who now fancied herself to be an off-road vehicle and was racing around revving her make-believe engine, or applying bug spray to Elsa, who had to be told to take the toothpick she got from Commodore out of her mouth before climbing one of the Douglas firs to look for spiders. She was even able to get the older man to wear the floppy-brimmed hat she’d bought him to protect his skin from the sun.

  Once everything was set up to her exact specifications, the men joined Commodore and the girls fishing while Charlotte explored the area for things to add to the overall staging of her pictures. This time, the task was easier since she’d brought a professional grade camera with her and the weather was being much more cooperative.

  Unfortunately, the camera lens was less accommodating, because it kept finding its way over where the Russell men were teaching her daughters how to catch a fish. And with the click of the shutter, all those thoughts of daddies and daughters came flooding back to her and played war with her heart. For the rest of the day, as she snapped pictures of Alex showing Audrey how to use a net to scoop up a wiggling trout before throwing it back, or of Alex lifting Elsa up onto his shoulders so she could see a bird’s nest full of soft blue eggs, Charlotte told herself that nobody would ever see these photos. They were just for her.

  When she returned to her life in San Francisco and Alex was nothing but a distant memory, she might look at the images and allow herself to
daydream about that time she fell for a guy who would’ve been perfect for her—and the perfect daddy for her daughters.

  If only their lives were different, then maybe that dream could come true...

  Chapter Nine

  Commodore was already on his second serving of dessert by the time the rest of them had finished their sausage and fennel skillet pizza. Alex had never tasted anything like it in a real kitchen, let alone camping. Although he noticed that Charlotte hadn’t eaten a thing because she’d been too busy taking pictures of everything she’d cooked—except the warm cobbler sitting in the Dutch oven, which probably wasn’t very photo worthy since a third of it was gone by now.

  Granola had had a magnet on her fridge that said, Today’s Menu Choices: Take It or Leave It—which was still there, holding up a faded and out-of-date baby announcement from Kylie and Drew. But when it came to Charlotte’s graceful figure moving around the campsite, he didn’t care what she was preparing; he would take anything she dished out and then help himself to seconds.

  He’d been the first one to roll his eyes at all the cooking supplies she’d packed, like the collapsible cupboard with built-in cutting boards, the campfire tripod and the open fire swivel grill. While he was amazed at what she’d accomplished with what he’d deemed “unnecessary stuff,” he’d be the absolute last one to admit Charlotte had turned this place into an outdoor culinary haven. Besides, he doubted she needed to hear any more praise with the way his dad and grandfather were carrying on.

  “A man could sure get used to this kind of cooking,” his father said, pointing his not-so-subtle gaze at Alex. Several times today, Vic had busted him staring at Charlotte as she dashed around camp, prepping dinner and dessert, which made Alex question whether the guy was all that oblivious in the human emotions department, after all. “Could you imagine coming home to a meal like this every night, son?”

  He shot a cold look at his father. You said you knew what I was going through. Way to be a team player, Dad.

  “Thank you, Vic,” Charlotte said, a glow of pleasure lighting her face.

  “Your Granola could field dress a deer like nobody’s business,” Commodore said, after shoveling the last bit of his cobbler into his mouth. “But she wasn’t one for spending much time in the kitchen.”

  “Who’s Granola?” Elsa asked.

  “She was my grandmother,” Alex replied, the collar of his shirt feeling as though it was getting tighter. “She passed away when I was a little boy.”

  The six-year-old patted his shoulder. “My grandmother passed away, too.”

  Charlotte gasped. “No, she didn’t, sweetheart.”

  Her daughter put her hands on her waist. “Then why don’t we ever see her?”

  “Because she’s very busy.” Charlotte’s reply was so automatic, he wondered how often she’d made the excuse. Especially to herself.

  “Do we have a grandpa, too?” Elsa asked, her tone growing suspicious.

  “Of course you do,” Charlotte said, looking anywhere but at her captive audience.

  “Where is he?”

  “I...uh... Dubai, maybe?”

  Oh, come on. Charlotte’s answer had to have sounded as absurd to her as it did to him. Who the hell didn’t keep in touch with their daughter and granddaughters on a regular basis? Particularly when they had ones like the Folsom ladies.

  Elsa climbed up onto Com’s lap. “I would rather have Commodore and Vic be my grandpas.”

  Charlotte made a choking sound, before turning to dig in the little fanny pack that accented her slim waist—most likely trying to hide her scarlet-tinged cheeks while pretending that she hadn’t just heard what her daughter said. Was it wrong for him to hope that the awkward turn in this conversation was affecting her as much as it was him?

  “We’d be proud to be your honorary grandpas,” his dad said a bit too loudly to Audrey, who was tucked up against Vic. The five-year-old had been doing her rolling log impression an hour ago, but now he guessed that she was possibly pretending to be a speed eating contestant, the way she was putting away food.

  The neck of Alex’s shirt got even tighter and his throat filled with enough longing to cut off his airflow. This was getting too cozy again, and he had no idea how to shut it all down. It didn’t help that Vic was having no problem casting that relationship net out there on his son’s behalf.

  “Although, technically,” Vic continued, “Com would have to be your great-grandpa since he’s so much older than me.”

  “Ain’t too old to steal your dessert,” Com countered before handing his enamelware plate to a giggling Elsa. “Well, as my honorary great-granddaughter, your first order of business is to fetch us some more of that crustless pie. Or whatever fancy name your mom is calling it.”

  “I hadn’t thought of one for it yet,” Charlotte said, while making notes on a little pad as though she were some mad scientist writing out a formula. Alex noted that her face was still a bit too rosy, considering the coolness of the evening mountain air, and her immediate response was a dead giveaway that she’d been listening to this irrational grandparent talk the entire time. “I was thinking of calling it serviceberry crumble.”

  “Never heard of canned serviceberries before,” Commodore said.

  “That’s because they’re not canned,” Charlotte explained. “The girls and I picked them this afternoon.”

  His grandfather made a gagging sound and dramatically grasped at his throat.

  “Oh, boy. Are the berries poisonous?” Elsa asked, her wide eyes looking more hopeful than concerned. “Like Snow White’s apple?”

  Alex had to turn away to hide his smile at the little girl’s vivid imagination.

  “Of course not,” her mom said before leaning over Alex’s shoulder and whispering, “Sorry. You’re probably wishing for a sleeping potion right about now.”

  Her breath was warm and tingled the sensitive spot right behind his ear.

  “I’m fine,” Alex whispered back not feeling fine at all. Having her so close to him, he was surprised his mouth could even form the word. His lungs, which were accustomed to the high altitude, felt as though they couldn’t draw in enough air.

  “Darn it,” Elsa sighed. “I was hoping that if we ate some, the handsome woodsman would hafta kiss us awake.”

  “I don’t think there was a woodsman in that story,” Com said. “And if there was, you can just let me go on sleeping ’cause I sure don’t wanna get kissed by him.”

  “What about you, Mommy? Would you wanna get kissed by the woodsman?”

  Alex settled against the boulder behind him, anxiously awaiting her answer.

  “Who wants to make s’mores?” she asked, instead. And her distraction worked like a charm. The girls squealed and sprang up to their feet while Vic shuffled around the campfire looking for some sturdy sticks they could use to roast their marshmallows.

  “Not me,” Com said, staring off at the mountain ridge where the sun had just set. “Those fresh berries aren’t sittin’ so well with me. I’m gonna turn in for the night.”

  His grandfather went searching for his sleeping bag and, after three songs and at least five of Vic’s exaggerated stories, Charlotte took a look at her yawning daughters and said it was time for them to go to bed, as well. She and the girls went into the woods to brush their teeth and have some privacy, but when they returned, Elsa asked Alex if he would sleep in their tent. His neck tightened.

  “Not tonight, ladies. I brought my own.” He looked pointedly at Charlotte, hoping maybe she’d hear the longing in his voice and take pity on him by visiting his tent later tonight.

  “But why don’t you sleep with Grandpa Vic and Grandpa Com?” The child’s use of the honorary titles was like a sucker punch to his gut. “What if a bear tries to get one of them?”

  “Are you kidding?”
he asked, then forced a laugh. “They both snore so loud, no bear would risk its eardrums to come within a mile of our campsite.”

  “Tell Mr. Russell good night,” Charlotte instructed her daughters, and Alex tried not to show his disappointment at being the only one of his family members addressed so formally. But at least he was no longer being called Mr. Russell Number Three.

  The girls both gave him a hug, and little Audrey even gave him a kiss on the cheek. His insides melted like the marshmallow in his s’more and he wasn’t entirely sure that he disliked the warm, gooey sensation.

  He sent a little salute Charlotte’s way before she followed the girls inside the tent. At the sound of the zipper closing them in, he turned and walked back toward the dying fire. His dad had already banked it and Alex saw the lantern light inside the Russells’ larger tent.

  He stood there looking at the glowing embers of the fire for several minutes before grabbing a flashlight and heading off to the woods to brush his own teeth. He had just started his final check of their campsite perimeter when he saw another lantern coming his way, illuminating the shape of Charlotte’s waist and hips, and casting a soft glow up toward her delicate face. His mouth went dry as his pulse sprang into action.

  “As soon as the girls closed their eyes, I realized I left my water bottle over here,” she said when she stepped into the copse of trees. “Vic said rule number one was try to leave things the way we found them.”

  “I thought rule number one was always listen to a grownup?” He studied Charlotte soft pink lips. “Or was that rule number two?”

  His flirtatious reminder had the desired effect, drawing a blush from her along with the smallest hint of a smile. He was pretty sure his senses would protest if he didn’t step closer and touch her. He already knew how good she would smell. How good she would taste. The sound she’d make when his tongue touched hers.

  He wasn’t sure how long they stood there, staring at each other, but when she set her lantern on the ground, he knew he was done for. Her eyes dragged him in, and right before Alex could tell himself that kissing her would be a bad idea, she reached out and pulled him toward her. His lips clearly remembered what they were supposed to do because the second her mouth opened, heat spread through his entire body.