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How many times had she absentmindedly doodled Camryn Andrews over the years? Not many, considering he’d ditched her so soon after they married she’d never had time to legally change her name.
Anna nudged her. “Just call him already.”
Sighing, Camryn reached for the phone, her thumb poised over the screen buttons while she flipped the card over and over with her other hand.
“Why don’t you go check on the latest Java bean shipment, then head home? I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure you will.” Anna smirked, sending a pointed look at the card in her hand. “Like I already said, I’m sure Blane is very handy with his tool.”
She rolled her eyes. “Enough with the jokes already. Now go.”
She wanted to be alone when she made the call, not trusting herself to feign nonchalance under Anna’s astute gaze when she heard his voice again.
“Okay, boss. Catch you tomorrow.”
She waited until Anna had headed through to the storeroom before glancing at the card and tapping out the number for Blane’s cell, hoping he’d answer for the sake of her cheesecakes, hoping he wouldn’t for her peace of mind.
Her heart stalled as he picked up. “Blane Andrews speaking” filtered down the line in that deep, mellifluous tone she knew all too well.
“Hi, it’s me. How are you?”
She stiffened at the slight pause before willing herself to relax, thankful it gave her a moment to take a deep breath and slow down her thudding heart.
“Hey, Cam. I’m fine. Glad you called.”
Cringing she’d have to burst his bubble of hope she’d called for another reason than what he wished for, she rushed on. “I need your help. I’ve got a refrigerator hinge that needs fixing and it’s urgent. I gave it a shot myself but couldn’t manage it so I was wondering if you could pop around tonight and take a look for me?”
The sound of a circular saw whined in the background, closely followed by a loud hammering that had her holding the phone an inch away from her ear.
“Sure. Let me finish up here and I’ll be around in about two hours.”
To give him credit, he didn’t sound disappointed or annoyed. She should’ve been relieved. Instead, a small part of her was insulted he didn’t push her for an explanation as to why she hadn’t called or when she finally did it was to ask him for his building expertise.
Injecting false cheer into her voice, she said, “Great. I really appreciate it.”
“No worries, I’ll see you later.”
He hung up, leaving her staring at the phone in confusion.
By his own admission he wanted them to get reacquainted. He’d said it, blunt as you like the other night. So why wasn’t he bothered she hadn’t called? Why hadn’t he called her out? Or come straight out and asked her about it?
Shaking her head, she replaced the cordless phone in its charger and crumpled the card in her hand. Considering almost a week had lapsed since their infamous chat he’d clearly got the message she wasn’t interested in resurrecting the past.
She should be thrilled.
So why the tiniest hint of disappointment?
Blane slid his cell back into his top pocket, swiped his palms down the side of his jeans, and perched on the tailgate of his Ute.
“I’ll be damned,” he muttered, his words whipped away by the blustery gale blowing straight off the ocean, the wind effectively drowning out Mike’s staple gun as it drove nails into the fence.
Cam had called.
After six days, during which time he’d mentally kicked himself for being a jackass and leaving the ball in Cam’s court, she’d finally picked up the phone.
Okay, so it wasn’t quite the ‘let’s catch up and have a drink/dinner/whatever’ call he’d been hoping for, but she’d called nonetheless.
A broken fridge hinge could be fixed by anybody but she’d called him, which could mean one of two things: she wanted tosee him again and was using the fix-it as a flimsy excuse, or she couldn’t be bothered paying some random guy she’d found online a small fortune for such a quick job and was using their shared past to get what she wanted, a fixed fridge.
