Page 68 of Cold Feet
"You know this is a losing battle, right?" I whispered to him as we walked down to the wet sand where the best castle-building would happen. "Drake and Zayne take these competitions way too seriously. They once built a scale replica of Hogwarts complete with working drawbridge."
"Ah, but they don't have Emma and Tyler's creative vision," Cam replied, completely unfazed. "Plus, I happen to be an expert sandcastle architect."
"Is there anything you're not surprisingly good at?" I asked, only half-joking.
"Toast," he replied immediately. "Also folding fitted sheets. And remembering to water plants. Actually, I'm pretty terrible at most domestic things."
I laughed, surprised by his candid admission. "Good to know you're not actually perfect."
"Far from it," he said, his tone shifting to something more serious. "But I'm trying to be better." His eyes met mine, and there was such earnestness in them that I had to look away.
"At toast-making?" I joked, deflecting the sudden intensity.
"Obviously that’s first priority on the list," he replied with a soft smile. "I’m a work in progress."
Something in his expression made my heart stutter, but before I could respond, Emma tugged on my hand.
"Auntie Lana, help me dig the moat!"
For the next hour, we worked on our sandcastle, which evolved from a traditional turret design into what Emma called a "fairy princess dragon castle" (complete with a seashell dragon guarding the entrance). Cam turned out to be surprisingly skilled at intricate sand sculpture, carefully crafting detailed windows and a spiral staircase that had Emma squealing with delight.
"Where'd you learn to do that?" I asked as he carved perfect little battlements along the top of a tower.
"YouTube," he admitted with a boyish grin. "I went through a phase last off-season where I couldn't sleep. Watched a lot of random tutorials."
"Insomnia YouTube rabbit holes. The things I'm learning about you this weekend..."
"Just wait till I show you my origami skills," he teased. "I make a mean paper crane."
We worked well together, anticipating each other's needs without having to ask – Cam steadying the bucket as I packed it with wet sand, me smoothing the walls as he carefully removed the mold, both of us encouraging the children's increasingly fantastical additions. It felt easy. Natural. Like we'd been building sandcastles together for years.
"You guys are the best team," Emma declared, patting a lopsided turret into place. "Way better than Uncle Drake and Uncle Zayne. They always argue."
"That's because Cam and I have lots of practice working together," I explained, helping her position a shell.
"Because you're in love?" she asked innocently.
I fumbled the shell, dropping it into the moat. Cam smoothly retrieved it and handed it back to Emma.
"Because we're a good team," he said simply, his eyes finding mine over Emma's head. "Sometimes you just click with someone, and everything works better."
"Like LEGOs!" Tyler piped up from where he was decorating the drawbridge.
"Exactly like LEGOs," Cam agreed solemnly. "The pieces fit together perfectly."
I ducked my head, focusing intently on shaping the sand, hyper-aware of the double meaning in his words and the soft look he'd given me.
At one point, I was struggling to add a tower that kept collapsing under its own weight. Cam moved behind me, his chest warm against my back as he reached around to help stabilize the structure.
"Like this," he said softly, his breath tickling my ear. "We need to pack it tighter at the base."
His hands covered mine, guiding my movements as we formed the sand. Every cell in my body was aware of his proximity, the solid warmth of his bare chest against my bare back, the scent of sun and salt and something, I don’t know, like uniquely him. Time seemed to slow, the sounds of the beach fading as my focus narrowed to the points where our bodies connected.
Deep breath.
"Perfect," he murmured as the tower finally held. He didn't pull away immediately, and I didn't move either, caught in a moment that felt both peaceful and charged with unspoken possibility.
A pointed throat-clearing broke the spell. I looked up to find Zayne watching us, his expression a complicated mix of suspicion and concern. Cam stepped back, turning his attention to Tyler's request for help with the drawbridge, but the moment lingered like a drunk at closing time.
