Chapter 8

Samantha

I drop three boxes ofinstant pudding into my cart and check another thing off the grocery list in my hand. I push my cart to the end of the aisle and collide with an oncoming customer causing a loud rattle. Everyone around us turns to assess the damage.

Completely embarrassed, I begin to ramble my apology. “Oh my gosh! I am so sorry.”

A low chuckle finds my ear and goosebumps cover my skin. “It’s okay. No damage done. Which is good because Aunt Jane had these jars special ordered.”

I glance into the cart where six-gallon jars sit. “What in the world is Miss Jane going to do with jars that size?”

Cameron grins, “We’re harvesting cucumbers next week, Aunt Jane and Aubrey are canning pickles to pass out as samples at the fair.”

“What a great idea. I have no idea what to use to draw people to our booth.”

“Ice cream,” Cameron says as if it’s the most natural choice.

“Ice cream? We’re a dairy, not a creamery, we don’t make ice cream.”

He tilts his head. “Your sister used to.”

Still confused, I continue to stare at him blinking several times, but I have no memory of my sister making ice cream. “Which one?”

He laughs. “You really don’t know?”

“No, I have no clue.”

“Christine. She and the other cheerleaders used to make homemade ice cream a couple of times a week for the team after practice. I’m pretty sure that’s how she got Warren to ask her out.”

“How did I not know this?”

Cameron shrugs. “You were probably too busy learning how to raise a Grand Champion steer.”

I laugh and his grin turns into a devastating smile. “Must have been. Ice cream is a great idea, but there’s no way I could make the amount needed for the fair by myself. I’m not even sure we have more than one churn.”

"Maybe not, but I’m sure Aunt Jane has one or two. Momma may have had one too. And I’m sure Aubrey would be happy to help."

I cock my head, a teasing smile on my lips. "Do you really think Aubrey’s ever made homemade ice cream before?"

Cameron chuckles and shakes his head. "Probably not, but I have a feeling she’d love to learn."

"You’re right there. However, you do realize she’s about to have a baby. I’m sure Aubrey has enough to do already."

He gives a shrug of his broad shoulders. "I’ll help you."

I shake my head. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t, I volunteered.”

“Why?”

Confused by my question Cameron echoes my question back at me. “Why?”

“Yeah, why would you want to help me make ice cream for the fair?”

“It’s the neighborly thing to do, isn’t it? When you see someone with a need, you help them out. I mean, that’s what people used to do here. If they’ve stopped, I’m going to be sorely disappointed in my fellow Blossom Creek residents.”

I smile and shake my head, still confounded by his willingness to help but decide to take it for what it is, help from a neighbor. "No, your faith in humanity can stay intact, we still help each other around here."

"Good, I’ll check with Aunt Jane about those ice cream churns and get back to you."

"Okay." A moment of awkward silence passes between us as our eyes lock on one another and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to drown in those complex hazel eyes of his. The sound of a rattling cart approaching jolts me back into the present. "Um, I should probably finish my shopping."

Cameron shifts his stance. "Yeah, I should get these jars home to Aunt Jane before she calls looking for me."

I laugh, because I know he’s not joking. Miss Jane is like Momma; both are serious about their canning. "Yes, you better. Bye, Cameron, talk to you soon. "

"Bye, Samantha," he says with a wave before turning down the next aisle to head to the checkout.

I lean heavily on my cart trying to catch my breath once he’s out of sight. The last time I felt this breathless was when I met Alan. Then again, Alan and I had an instant attraction. I’ve known Cameron all my life. And you’ve crushed on him for just as long. The little voice inside my head reminds me. Growing up Cameron only looked at me as Beth and Christine’s little sister. However, that was not the same look he gave me today. There was something different in the depths of his hazel eyes, and it wasn’t the pity I’ve become so used to seeing when anyone else stares at me. Maybe I’m imagining it, but it looked like interest. Though I’m not sure how to define what interest looks like either.

Returning home,I begin carrying in the groceries. As I make my final trip inside, I find Momma unpacking the bags. “Looks like you got everything on the list and then some,” she teases.

I hoist the bags onto the counter. “One of these days I’ll remember not to go to the grocery store hungry.”

Momma laughs as she places the two packages of cookies in the pantry. “But then we wouldn’t end up with all the snacks.”

“Or maybe we’d end up with healthy ones,” I say with a shudder, making her laugh again.

“You never could stand when Christine had healthy snacks in the house.”

Not being a fan of either, I frankly state, “Carrots and raisins should only be allowed in the house if you are making carrot cake.”

Momma laughs once again. “I remember you telling her that on more than one occasion.”

“Speaking of Christine,” I ask, making the perfect segue. “Do you ever remember her making homemade ice cream?”

“Oh, heavens yes! She and the cheerleading squad made it at least once a week. Why do you ask?”

I take a deep breath and prepare myself for the reaction I’m about to get. “I ran into Cameron at the store, and he mentioned it.”

“Oh?”

I ignore the curiously pleased tone and continue. “He said Aubrey and Miss Jane were making pickles to pass out as samples at the fair. I told him we hadn’t decided what to use as a draw to our booth yet, and he suggested ice cream. Said he remembered Christine making it for the football team years ago and how delicious it was.”

“That’s not a bad idea. I think we still have a couple of churns out in the storage shed.”

“We do? How do I not remember ever making homemade ice cream?”

Momma smiles, her eyes lighting up with the memory. “Probably because Christine and the girls never made it here. She used to provide the milk, but they used to meet at Sally Ann’s to make it since they lived closer to the school. Less travel time to the football field.”

“Well, I guess that explains it then. Anyway, I told Cameron, as good as the idea was, I doubted we’d be able to make as much ice cream as we’d need to pass out as samples at the fair.”

Momma nods. “That’s true.”

I continue, my nerves starting to get the best of me. “He said he thought Miss Jane might have a couple of churns and offered to help me.”

Momma grins. “Did he now?”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t read too much into it, he was just being neighborly.”

“Call it what you will Samantha Nicole, but I think he’s sweet on you.”

“Momma,” I warn. Even as the word leaves my mouth, I feel a blush steal across my cheeks.

“I’ll leave it for now. All I’m saying is, I wouldn’t mind seeing more of Cameron around here.”

“Well, if I can find those ice cream churns, you may get your wish.”