Work Text:
The morning after the blind date, Richard was a little nervous. Camille hadn’t told anyone she was going on a blind date. And last night, they hadn’t talked about whether they would tell anyone. So now he didn’t know what he was supposed to do or say.
Camille arrived while Richard was waiting for his computer to start. He looked up and noticed that she was still dressed conservatively.
“Good morning,” she said as she set down a cup of coffee and hit the button to start her computer.
“Good morning. Are you, um, okay?”
“Yes, fine. Really, Richard I’m fine. I had a lovely time last night.”
“I’m glad. But I thought you’d, that is, you’re still dressed, um…” he gestured vaguely at her.
“I’m following some career advice I got from a good friend.” She smiled. “Expert on psychology.”
“Hardly an expert, but I—”
“Good morning,” Fidel walked in and the conversation about the date was over.
-o-o-o-o-
The second date was relaxed and low-key. Richard had found a small restaurant in a nearby town. They ate early, before things got busy and noisy. Camille was impressed that Richard managed to get through it without a jacket and tie.
When they got to Camille’s house, Richard walked her to her door. She reached up and ran her finger along the edge of his collar.
“Thank you for going without the tie. I bet nobody recognized you.”
“I can’t be the only man on Saint Marie who wears a tie.”
“Sometimes I think you are. So it makes me feel special to know that you left it home to please me.”
“You are special.” He leaned forward and kissed her. She slid her arms up and around his neck and he wrapped his arms around her waist.
After several minutes, they broke for air and Camille said, “We shouldn’t be seen kissing on my doorstep.”
“Oh gosh, you’re right. Sorry, I didn’t think about that. I, um, I should be going. Goodnight, Camille.”
“Richard! I didn’t—”
“See you tomorrow.” He turned and hurried down her path and then down the hill towards the town.
Camille went into her house. Damn! He wasn’t supposed to run off. That wasn’t what she’d meant. His line was supposed to be something like Then we’d better go inside. The idiot could not take a hint! Next time, she’d drag him into the house before he could think of going home. Assuming there was a next time. Was he having second thoughts?
-o-o-o-o-
The next day, they had a new murder to work on. The scene was at a house some distance from the station, and they had to take back roads.
“Ow! Camille!”
“Sorry, this road is a mess.”
“Try aiming AWAY from the potholes.”
“I am trying.”
“So I guess you really don’t want us to have a third date.”
“Why would you say that? Of course I want us to have another date. Are you saying you won’t ask me out again because I’m driving on a bumpy road?”
“I’m saying I may not survive to ask you out again. Ouch!”
“Sorry! We’re almost there.” Camille pulled into a short drive and turned off the Defender.
Richard looked at the path leading up to the house and groaned, “You’re kidding.”
“No. Even Fidel was a bit winded by the time he got up there. Dwayne will deny it, but Fidel said he was gasping. We can take our time.”
“Taking it easy on an old man?
“I just want you to save your strength for our dates.” Camille flashed a wicked smile and started up the path.
Richard was pleased that he was keeping up with her pace. She was probably going slowly to make it easy for him, but he wasn’t complaining. She stopped and turned to him.
“Before we get into the case, I have a question.”
“Oh?”
“Is the third date too early for me to ask you?”
“Are you asking?”
“Yes. I don’t want you to go broke taking me out to dinner. And I don’t think you’d let me pay, at least not this soon. So I thought I’d cook for you. Saturday night?”
“That would be nice. What will you make?”
“I don’t know,” Camille replied as she started walking again. “I’ll go shopping and see what inspires me. But I want to stop by your place on the way back to the station and look at your kitchen.”
“You want to cook at my house?”
“I thought eating on your veranda would be relaxing. Honoré gets noisy on Saturday nights, and it’s quiet where you are.
-o-o-o-o-
When Camille inspected Richard’s kitchen, she pronounced it beneath her standards but manageable. On Saturday afternoon, she arrived at the house with two large shopping bags. The back door was locked, so she walked around to the veranda steps.
“Richard?” she called.
“Good morning,” he looked up from the book he was reading, wondering how he was supposed to greet her. Should he hug her? Kiss her? Or just stay where he was and avoid deciding?
As if she could read his thoughts, Camille walked to his chair and bent to kiss his cheek.
“I’ve been to the market, and I need to bring in the food.” Without asking, Camille walked through the house and down the stairs to the kitchen. She put some packages into the refrigerator and set others on the small workspace. Richard stood on the steps, enjoying watching her be domestic.
“What’s for supper?”
“Steak. I’m going to barbecue it.”
“Um, that’s a problem. I don’t have a barbecue.”
“I know. I can’t imagine how you do without one. They’re so convenient. Could you help me get mine out of the car?”
“You brought a barbecue here?”
“Yes. It’s portable. The stand rolls easily on a solid surface, but it will get stuck in the sand if I don’t have help.”
So Richard walked to her car and picked up the little barbecue. He carried it while Camille carried the stand. They set it up just outside the kitchen.
“You should get one of these,” she said. “They’re great and they heat up quickly. And you don’t have the danger of the large gas tank, just these little ones.”
“It’s a blowtorch tank.”
“I guess. I buy them in the DIY store. Anyway, about the steaks. Please don’t tell me you want yours cooked until it’s grey. Why do the English like overcooked meat?”
“Who says we do?”
“Maman says English customers have sent beef back if it was the tiniest bit pink.”
“I don’t like it still mooing, but I don’t need it cooked to shoe leather. Your mother cooks roast beef to medium, and that’s perfect.”
“I like it rare,” said Camille. It’s juicier that way.”
“Too undercooked. You might as well bite a cow on the ass.”
“Now there’s an interesting notion.”
Richard and Camille turned at the sound of the Commissioner’s voice.
“Oh, um, we…” Richard had no idea what to say.
“Richard is borrowing my barbecue to see if he wants to get one for himself.” Camille launched into what could have served as an advertisement, extolling the virtues of the little wonder. Anything to avoid the Commissioner getting the idea that she might actually teach Richard to use it by cooking for him.
“Yes, we were just, um, discussing doneness of steaks.” Richard added lamely.
“It’s a bit early for supper,” the Commissioner commented. Richard wondered if he was fishing for information, or just looking for a way to make the two of them squirm. Richard was beginning to believe his boss was the kind of person who’d pull the wings off flies.
“This was a convenient time to drop it off,” said Camille.
“I see. If I might have a word with you, Inspector?”
Richard fought to keep his attention on the Commissioner and not glance at Camille. What could the man want on a Saturday? Was he about to launch into a lecture about not dating a subordinate? Richard had been trying very hard not to think about that.
“Of course,” Richard said, gesturing toward the veranda.
“I’ll, um,” Camille hesitated. Only two dates, and already the Commissioner had questions. WHY hadn’t they planned for something like this? “I should go. Call me if you have any more questions about the barbecue.”
“Yes, right. I will.”
Camille turned and walked to the Defender. She tried to appear relaxed, as if showing up at Richard’s house with a barbeque and groceries was nothing to notice. She forced herself to stroll, and as she turned to open the car door, she glanced back at the house in time to see Richard and their boss turning the corner on the veranda. Willing Richard to stay calm, she drove back to town.
Richard also tried to appear relaxed, or at least no more tightly wound than usual. To avoid thinking of the consequences of a visit from his boss, he decided to treat this as a social visit. Somewhere in the back of his head, a voice said, offer a guest a beverage.
“Um, can I get you anything? It’s a bit early for a drink and, I’m sorry, I don’t have coffee, but—”
“No, no need. This is going to be quick. It’s about your bathroom. May I?” The Commissioner gestured toward the door to the house.
“Of course,” Richard replied. Of all the reasons for a visit, using his bathroom was about the last thing he could imagine. But the Commissioner merely looked at it.
“You should have said something,” the Commissioner gestured toward the bathroom.
“Sorry?”
“About the state of the accommodations.”
“I keep the house as clean as possible. But, you know, the sand gets everywhere.”
“No, no. I can see that you keep the place clean and neat. I had heard that Inspector Hulme was, well, let us not speak ill of the dead. Less tidy, shall we say? But I’m referring to the house itself. The bath should be renovated. Catherine is right, it’s terrible.”
“Catherine?”
“Yes. I saw her in the market this morning, and she said if I wanted to keep you on Saint Marie, I should do something about your house.”
“Ah,” Richard relaxed. This was something he could explain. “When we were at La Kaz the other day, I was complaining about the shower.”
“I see. I’ll have a word with the owner. Of course, we’ll have to find alternate accommodation for you while the work is being done. But I’m sure we can sort something out.”
Richard just nodded as the Commissioner walked toward the door. He was going to survive this visit. As soon as the man left, Richard could call Camille and let her know it was nothing to do with them.
The Commissioner glanced down toward the kitchen. “I suppose that could do with some work, too, but I think the bathroom should be the priority. My, that’s a lot of food. Are you having company, Inspector?”
Damn! He’d almost made it. “Uh, not exactly. Camille is going to cook supper, show me how to work her barbeque.”
“Ah.”
Richard HATED the Commissioner’s Ahs. He could never tell if it was ah as in “no problem,” or ah as in “BIG problem.” The words were out of his mouth before he knew he was going to say them.
“Sir, if we’re breaking some sort of rule…”
“No, I see no problem with colleagues having supper together,” The Commissioner paused for a reaction. Hard to believe, he thought, but the Inspector was becoming even more tense than usual. He continued, “And if it’s more than that, well, as long as it doesn’t interfere with your work, we’re pretty relaxed here on Saint Marie.”
Now it was Richard’s turn to simply say, “Ah.”
The Commissioner walked to the veranda steps and turned back to face Richard. He said, “I know you think it’s hot here on Saint Marie. But if you break her heart, I will see to it that you are transferred to somewhere much hotter. Good day, Inspector.”
Richard stood in stunned silence for two minutes before he remembered that he should call Camille.
-o-o-o-o-
After supper, Camille suggested they take a walk on the beach. After much coaxing, Richard agreed to go barefoot. They walked in companionable silence for a few minutes, then stopped to watch the waves. Camille spoke first.
“Richard, when you set up the blind date, was it only to rebuild my confidence?”
“I thought so. Or, I had convinced myself that it was only for that. But standing there waiting a hundred years for you to answer the door, I was more nervous than I should have been if I’d only been helping a friend.”
“I was nervous, too. I trusted your judgment, but even so…then when I saw it was you, I was surprised. I didn’t understand at first. Then I realized that you were my date, and I relaxed. I knew I could trust you. But you were so nervous! That’s why I kissed you. I wanted to tell you that it was okay, that I was glad it was you.”
“That’s when I knew I wanted it to be a real date.”
“Me too. I, um…”
“Is something, wrong, Camille?”
“No. I want to say something, and I’m not exactly sure how to tell you.”
Richard’s heart sank. Here it comes, he thought, she was going to say they were better as friends.
“It’s okay, I understand.”
“No you don’t. You don’t know what I’m going to say.”
“Been there, done that, Camille. I can recognize the ‘let’s just be friends’ speech a mile away.”
“No! Richard, no. We are friends. But I think we can be more than that.” She ran her finger along his cheek, then leaned forward to kiss him. “So much more.”
“But the other night, you didn’t want me to kiss you.”
“Oh, Richard, you paid attention to the wrong part of the sentence! It wasn’t the kiss, it was the location that was the problem. When I said not on the doorstep, you were supposed to suggest that we go into the house.”
“Well, how was I supposed to know that?”
“It wasn’t supposed to be about what you knew. It was supposed to be what you wanted. Didn’t you want to?”
“Yes. And no. I, well… I took the coward’s way out. If we went inside, and things heated up, I didn’t want you to think I was pushing you. I didn’t want to put you in the position of having to shove me off you. You say you’re fine, but I don’t want to upset you, or… I don’t know… make you feel cornered.”
“Oh, Richard, I’m not going to relapse. And this takes us back to what I wanted to say earlier. So please don’t interrupt while I explain.” Camille faced Richard and took his hands in hers. “I know this is a word men hate to hear, but that first evening, when I kissed you, I knew everything would be all right because I felt safe with you. I don’t know why that’s a bad thing. I don’t mean you’re weak or not manly, or whatever it is about the word safe that men don’t like. I knew you wouldn’t hurt me. You were there to help me, to take care of me. And I knew I could trust you to put that ahead of whatever you needed or wanted. You’re a good man, Richard. Honorable and decent and kind.”
“And boring,” he sighed.
“No! I know safe isn’t flashy or stylish. But it’s important. And you make me want to be that for you. Someone who will take care of you and not hurt you.”
“That sounds a lot like being friends.”
“It is. But a good relationship has lots of layers, and friendship is the best foundation layer. It will make all the other layers we build better.”
“That sounds hopeful.”
“It’s meant to.” Camille smiled and said, “Do you know how many blind dates I’ve been on since I came back to Saint Marie?”
“I’d rather not think about that.”
“Okay, never mind the number. Do you know how many of them led to a second date?”
“No. I’m not sure I want to think about that, either. It makes me jealous.”
“Don’t be, because answer is one. You’re the only one I wanted to go out with again. The only one who got to do the ending twice.” She kissed him. Then holding hands, they resumed walking.
After a while Richard said, “I didn’t tell you, but after the conversation about renovating the bath, the Commissioner and I sort of talked about us.”
“Sort of?”
“Well, you know how he is. He makes all those indirect comments. So I asked if we were breaking any rules, and he said it was okay as long as it doesn’t interfere with work.”
“That’s good!”
“Yes, but then he said if I break your heart he’ll get me transferred to someplace hotter. I have a feeling he meant hell.”
“But you won’t break my heart, Richard. That’s what I was trying to say about feeling safe. I know that my heart is safe with you.” She stopped walking and faced him before saying, “And yours is safe with me.”
“It sounds like another trust exercise.” He pulled her close and sighed.
“It is, Richard. Falling in love is the ultimate trust exercise. Do you remember what you told me when you set up the blind date? ‘I’m not saying he’s going to be the love of your life.’ Remember?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I think you are.” She pulled back to look at him and waited for a response. The look on his face told her what she wanted to know, but words would be nice, too. “Richard?”
“I love you.”
A few minutes later, Camille said, “I know the Commissioner said we’re okay, but I think it’s a bit early for us to be seen kissing on your beach.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, it probably is.”
Camille stepped back, hands on hips, and glared at Richard.
“Oh? Did I miss my cue?” He smiled at her. She was incredibly sexy when she was angry. But this probably wasn’t the time for that comment. So he held out his hand and said, “Let’s go back to the house.”