Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
WEST
Ever since I could remember, Eden Ridge has come alive every new season’s Festival. One of the biggest, our Fall Festival. The opening and events are at the end of the month.
The deep colors of Autumn coat every tree except for some of Oregon’s evergreens.
Main Street could be the fall version of a Kincaid Christmas painting.
Autumnal garlands wrap around every vintage black lamppost, and rows of maple leaf string lights hang between buildings down the street.
At the end of Main, leading to the mountain roads that take you to the residential homes, is where countless tents are erected for all the vendors volunteering to give our town and tourists a memorable season.
“God, I love our home,” Camille breathes out as we walk down Main, heading to the bar.
“Just gotta check in with Beckett before we head to Jenkins’ booth.”
Her face lights up at the prospect of picking out pumpkins.
“Don’t look at me like that. You didn’t know this cause you were off making trouble with my brother, but I was a champion pumpkin carver,” she bumps her hip to mine.
“I did know, Nyx. Who do you think left you all those rejected pumpkins on your porch?”
I turn my face and find she’s not there. Stopping, I look over my shoulder. Camille gapes at me, not moving.
“You? Seriously?”
Suddenly nervous, I face her, shrugging. “I knew you’d make something awesome from them. They wouldn’t go to waste.”
The look in her eyes is intense as she walks determined right up to me, leaving a sliver of space between us.
“If I could, I would kiss the crap out of you right now,” she whispers.
I force my body to remain still. The urge to say, fuck who sees, is strong. “Can’t say shit like that, Little Pixie, when I can’t do something about it.”
Her eyes darken, the honey in her hazel eyes practically glowing with heat.
“You’re totally right, Camille.” Nora’s obnoxious voice breaks up the moment as she presses her body between Camille and me. “He totally has freckles. And that stupid dimple.”
She backs up, keeping the three of us in a close circle, bumping into my hip. “Hunter. I just saved your ass from a beating. What was that just now?”
Her eyes bounce back and forth between us.
“Didn’t want anyone overhearing the conversation,” Camille attempts, and sounds convincing.
“I’ll give it to you,” she points at Camille, “not a shit liar, but I still call bullshit.”
“We’re heading to Jenkins’ booth. West needed to meet with Beckett at the bar first,” Camille says.
“You playing bodyguard?” Nora asks me.
“Until the threat is no longer, absolutely,” I respond, a bit too fiercely, judging by the way Nora’s staring.
“Was last night not just hours ago?” Nora asks rhetorically. “The hell happened from the time I left you two till now?” She pops her hip, resting her hand on it.
“Graves, don’t add us to your weekly rotation of small-town gossip,” I tease, hoping she stops poking.
“I’m offended, Hunter. Get ready to receive a shit vendor table location,” Nora threatens.
“Woman, I will use my charm and trade someone in a heartbeat. I bet sweet old Betty wouldn’t mind moving her pies.”
“Fuck with my Festival and I’ll castrate you in your sleep.”
I lean over her toward Camille. “She loves me, I promise.”
“I tolerate your ass. Free drinks, Saturday nights.”
“I’m telling Hex not to share the next delivery with you.”
“Hunter, you know I avoid that clubhouse. I’ll buy some from the grocery store.”
I gape in disbelief. “The grocery store?” I say slowly. “You buy that watered-down shit and you’re banned from Ridge for life.”
Nora smirks. She’d absolutely do it.
“You two are worse than siblings,” Camille shakes her head, fighting a smile.
“Okay. You,” she points at me. “Give us some girl time and do whatever it is you Hunter boys do. I’ll bring her back safely in like twenty minutes.”
“Cute,” I arch my brow at Nora. “But, no can do. I’m not letting her out of my sight.”
“West, Pumpkin, I’m with an MC princess. I’ll be fine. And I’m sure my brother’s watchdog is somewhere monitoring my every move.”
“Try again, Nyx. I’m not accepting Pumpkin. Try again.”
She sighs dramatically. “But it’s so cute and seasonally appropriate.”
“Seriously. It’s been like twelve hours. What the hell did I miss?” Nora gawks at Camille.
“West. We’ll pass by Sweet Pines, grab some croissant sandwiches, and head straight to the bar. Want a drink?”
“Fine,” I compromise. She smiles. “Get me their green juice with the roast beef.”
She winks. I shake my head, hoping my face sends a clear message of retribution. The smirk she returns tells me she got my message loud and clear.
“Ew. Gross.” Nora fake gags. “I can’t watch this. Let’s go, West’s Greek Goddess of the Night,” she says, rolling her eyes.
At my shocked expression, she challenges it with attitude that is all Nora. “I read, doofus. Try being less subtle before her brother sees, or you lose more than your balls?”
“Suck my left toe, Graves,” I call at her back as they walk toward the bakery.
“Clean it first,” she flicks her hand over her shoulder.
I watch until they turn the corner, then head to the bar. Beckett’s my contractor for the renovation. The front door’s unlocked, and my oldest brother is already there.
“Hey,” he says, drawing on plans he spread out on one of the tables. “I spoke with Asher, and he has some time later this week to plaster the east wall.”
“Sounds good. I know an Interior Decorator who’s going to help me change the vibe of the bar.” Yeah. I just threw that out there like it was nothing.
Beckett’s head tilts. “Who?”
Right. I clear my throat and walk over to the back door to unlock it. “Did Crawford bring the truck over and pick up the pile?”
“Yeah,” Beckett calls out as I unlock the back door and swing it open. Everything’s been cleared out.
I return, hoping Camille and Nora are on their way back already.
“Who?” my brother asks again.
“Huh?” My stomach grumbles, and I smile. My girl’s bringing me lunch.
“I thought Holden was shitting me,” Beckett says.
“What?” I look up.
“Are you fucking Styx’s little sister?”
“What the hell, Beck? First, the way you worded that was out of line. Show some respect to me and to her. Second, what do you mean, Holden?”
He stares. “Shit. Wait, for real? Your best friend’s little sister. Camille?”
Damn it. “Did Holden tell you anything about the MC?”
“He did.”
“How much did he tell you?” Fucking Holden. I’m gonna deliver a bag of cow shit to his shop later.
“After his unexpected visit from Styx this morning at the ass crack of dawn, he called me. The Lane’s little girl might be in some trouble.
Then he mentioned some wild theory. How one of his boys saw you leave your bar last night with Camille Lane in tow.
You two got in your car and drove off. So, he wondered…
why did Styx not know where his little sister was and ask if Holden had seen her? ”
“Fucking small towns,” I grumble.
“So, again, I’ll rephrase. Is something going on between you and Styx’s sister?”
Girlish laughter catches our attention. Nora and Camille walk in with bags. Camille’s smile when she sees me is like sunshine lighting all my dark corners. I walk over instantly to relieve them of their bags.
“Hey, Beckett. Long time no see,” Camille says. “Thanks,” she whispers to me when I take the food, then heads to Beckett and hugs him hello.
“Long time, Camille. Hope you’re doing well,” he reaches to take the drinks tray from Nora.
“These Hunter boys. Ever the gentlemen,” Nora teases.
“Hang out with men who treat you better, Graves.”
“Working on it, Hunter. Hey, Beckett,” she greets with a kiss on his cheek. “How’s Grace?”
“My wife is turning our home into a miniature Fall Festival. Looks like pumpkins have thrown up everywhere.”
“West mentioned you’d be here. We brought you a roast beef as well. I asked Miss Dorothy your usual.” Camille passes my older brother lunch, and my heart falls a little harder for this woman.
“That was kind of you. Thank you,” he says.
“Alright,” Nora takes a big bite of her sandwich. “Gotta eat on the run before this town festival falls apart without me.”
“Chew, woman,” I tease, to which Nora flips me off. “We’ll be over in about thirty.”
“Good, I need your booth figured out, Hunter. So, chop chop.” She points at Camille. “Good chat. Wine on Thursday.”
“Seven sharp,” Camille confirms, smiling.
Nora leaves, and Camille sets up lunch on the adjacent table. Mid-setup, she pauses, the renovation plan catching her attention.
“Oh, I love that,” she points to Beckett’s idea to bring out the wall and build in a stone bar to feature festive pairings. “If I may?” she asks, picking up the marker.
Beckett bites into his sandwich and nods. Camille makes some marks and arrows.
“What if you create the bar closer to the end here, against the corner, creating an L-shape?” She looks over her shoulder.
“See, the fireplace would end up across it, balancing that area of the bar. Being that foot traffic takes people there, having any holiday or festival features there would garner more potential sales.”
Silence. Camille’s eyes flick back and forth, waiting for a response. I’m already grinning.
“Well, shit.” Beckett swallows his bite. “Apologies. I meant, that’s actually smart. Visually, you can play off design more with that setup.”
“Exactly,” she brightens up. “I was sharing some ideas with West on the way here.”
“You’re an Interior Designer?” Beckett asks.
“I am. I graduated with my Bachelor’s and did freelance in Silver Lakes for the last four years. My preferred style isn’t conventional, but I’m able to adapt to more mainstream elements if the client needs.”
Beckett nods, then looks at me. “We have three weeks before the Fall Festival. We should have the back structure done by next week. Till then, you two can gather interiors.”