Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
CAMILLE
“You’re back?” a familiar voice cries out from behind.
I turn, and Daniella, the festival coordinator, partnered with Nora, runs over, holding her tablet with a huge smile on her face. We went to high school together. She is a year older.
Her body collides with mine in a bear hug. “Camille Lane, what are you doing here?”
Laughing, we separate. “Hey, Daniella. Good seeing you too.”
“When did you get back?” she asks. “And what happened to your head?”
I need my makeup bag. I meant to cover that before we came. I pull hair over it. “Clumsy moment packing boxes.”
“You moved back?” she asks, glancing at my hulking bodyguard next to me.
“Back home.”
“Great,” she claps. “You know this right here is an expert pumpkin carver,” she tells West.
“So, I’ve been told,” he grins. “But, come on. Daniella, I provided an excellent carved liquor glass last year.” There’s that West charm.
“One could call it a glass,” she teases, scrunching up her face.
“You wound me. That’s it. Gauntlet’s been set. Bring it on, Lane,” he faces me, pushing up his sleeves.
“Oh, you want to bruise your precious ego, Hero?” I face Daniella. “Point us to Jenkins’ booth. I need supplies before we pick out a pumpkin.”
Daniella is enjoying this too much. “Right this way, you two.” She heads north, and we follow.
The aromas from booth to booth bring up a myriad of childhood memories of cider, pumpkins, sweet potato, and pecan pies. To think I wanted to get away from this small town. Only, when I finally did, all those years away made me miss it more.
“This is where Nora has you assigned, West. Anything you need, just let me know,” Daniella says, marking the tent on her tablet.
“Thanks, Daniella.” He leans in to faux whisper. “Watch my back, okay. Nora has it out for me, threatening porta-potty adjacency.”
She laughs. “All talk. Nora grumbles your name while speaking nothing but good things. You’re safe,” she winks. “Alright. Jenkins is on the other end. He already delivered a truckful of pumpkins into the patch behind his booth. So, hurry before the good ones are gone.”
With that, she dismisses herself and runs to continue her and Nora’s Autumn empire. Smiling, I face West, wanting so bad to hug him.
“I’m so excited. What’s your plan for the booth?” I ask, surveying the table and space. We can totally utilize leftover elements to decorate here as a teaser to what the bar will look like.
“Your mind is going a mile a minute already. I can see it,” West chuckles. “For the last three years, I’ve worked with Nash and Ezra on creating a new seasonal brew to reveal. With that, we feature Hunter family whiskey reserves and some local brewery IP sponsors.”
“We should upgrade your glorious whiskey glass pumpkin design, really lure in tourists.”
“Are you knocking my pumpkin, Nyx? You weren’t even here to see it. For all you know, it was spectacular.”
“Oh, Hero, you’ve seen nothing yet,” I grin, then watch in awe as the nickname has an instant effect, softening his features, tempting me to kiss that haunting bottom lip.
“Let’s go, Nyx, before I do something that’ll get tongues wagging.” West reaches instinctively for my hand but stops himself before contact. Sighing, he tips his head toward Jenkins, and we head over.
I hate this. I don’t want to overthink or hold back from touching West. I want to lean a hundred percent into exploring this dynamic, rare connection.
Some may thrive on the forbidden thrill of keeping up appearances in public.
Nope. Can’t be me. I want to pounce and rub my scent all over this man.
Especially with the looks some of the women in town are giving him.
They’re closer to his age. None of them is related to anyone close to him. It would be so much easier for him.
His lips brush my ear. “What’s with the scowl, Little Pixie?”
Was I? I hit him with wide, innocent eyes. “Me? You must be mistaken. Sun’s in your eyes.” I keep walking, holding my head high.
That deep rumble from his chest when he laughs is addictive. The tingles down my back tempt my core.
“Hi, West,” Jackie waves, sending a flirty smile.
“Afternoon,” he waves with his charismatic smile. “Grandmother’s chili?” he points to her table.
“You know it! Coming for a taste later?”
That. Bitch.
“He can’t,” I answer automatically, a green monster on my shoulder taking over my vocal cords.
I pat his stomach. “Poor guy here’s been having tummy issues. Not that your chili’s that spicy, but it’s heavy on the beans.”
Jackie’s eyes narrow at the multiple veiled insults before batting her eyes back up to West. “Poor guy, indeed. I’ll stop by and bring you a soup broth. Get you right as rain in no time.”
West stands fighting a smirk as he relaxes with his hands in his pockets. “That’s kind of you, Jackie. Perhaps another time. Got a busy day getting this beautiful woman here to carve me an assload of pumpkins.” His arm rests over my shoulders, pulling me in closer.
Jackie’s brown eyes bounce between us. “Offer stands if you’re still feeling ill tonight. Good to see you, Camille. Say hello to your brother for me.”
“Will do,” I smile widely. “You take care now.” I steer West away.
“Take care, West,” she calls out.
West. Not both of us.
He waves over his shoulder, chuckling.
“Don’t you laugh,” I lightly punch his ribs.
“Whoa. Careful. Apparently, I’m having tummy issues today.”
“Shut up,” I grumble with no heat.
“Only you, Nyx,” he whispers in my ear. “I want no one else, see no one else.”
As we approach Jenkins, West drops his arm. The squeeze around my heart releases at his words. Okay. I feel a bit dumb for what I just pulled. Thankfully, Jenkins’ jovial nature erases it from my mind.
“Is that little Camille Lane?” he asks, smiling that big grandfather smile that warms your heart.
I softly laugh, “Not so little anymore, sir.”
“No, indeed, the years have passed us all too quickly. West?” he shakes West’s hand.
“How are the pumpkins this year?” West asks, smiling charismatically while surveying the pumpkins displayed on the table and behind his table.
“Wait till you see, Big Betty. She’s a beaut.”
“What is she measuring?” West asks.
“No can do, my boy. Gotta wait till the Festival like everyone else.”
“Fair,” West chuckles. “Well, apparently, everyone here knows of this talented woman’s carving skills.”
“You’d be a fool for not paying attention,” Jenkins’ eyes twinkle mischievously. “Since she was a teenager, she had natural control of her wrists. Creative, too.”
“You flatter me, sir,” I blush.
“I only speak the truth. Now, if only we could get that brother of yours to use his time more productively.”
“Well, I’m back home now, so I’ll keep an eye on that knucklehead.”
We both laugh as Jenkins nods. “Welcome home. Now, come. The good ones haven’t been taken yet.” As we follow him to the patch he has fenced off behind his table, he leans in. “And a few unique contenders for you to wield magic.”
I bump my shoulder into his arm. “Thanks,” I smile, grateful to be back home.
Jenkins, growing up, always encouraged my unique take on things.
While my mother attempted to mold me into her conventional doll, I looked forward to autumn every year.
Jenkins would teach me to carve and talk about his secrets to nurturing a growing pumpkin, the preparations months ahead for this season, and proper ways to dispose of them, giving them purpose, back into the earth.
We wade through pumpkins, and West sets the ones I choose into the wagon Jenkins provided.
“Mama, pumpkins!” The sweetest voice enthusiastically squeals from across the patch.
“Look how big they are, baby,” the woman next to Asher Hunter points as she kneels down next to her son.
“West,” Beckett calls out, his arm around Grace Delaney, well, actually, Hunter now.
“Hey,” West waves them over. “Is that my favorite little man?”
“Hulk Smash,” the little boy with an adorable mop of curls on his head, deepens his voice and dramatically flexes his baby muscles. Too freaking cute.
West reaches over the fence and lifts the boy up. Asher and the woman he looks very much with, walk through the opening and join us.
“I heard you were back in town,” Asher grins.
“Asher Hunter. Good to see you again,” I lean in for a hug, then extend my hand to the beautiful woman with deep honey eyes, almost like mine, and long brown hair with caramel highlights.
“Camille,” I smile. “Nice to meet you.”
“Sierra. And that’s my boy, Ryder.”
“He’s adorable,” I turn, watching West hold his body in the air and running around like Ryder’s a plane.
“Precocious handful. I adore him.” Her motherly smile speaks deeply of her love for her son.
“Daddy Asher, look! I’m a plane,” he yells, giggling hysterically.
Daddy? My face doesn’t hide the confusion.
“He’s started calling him that,” Sierra explains softly.
“It’s an honor I take seriously. I love him like he’s my own,” Asher declares, and my heart melts.
The way these two look at each other. My heart swells, being in the presence of such love. I’m so happy for Asher. For all three of them. I glance over, and West sets down an eager Ryder, but he’s staring at me. Could we be so lucky?
West winks, then gives his attention back to Ryder, who demands for him to look at every pumpkin Ryder points at.
“Camille,” Grace greets me with a hug. “Long time no see.”
Keeping close for only her to hear, I squeeze her arms. “I heard about your dad. Sorry I couldn’t make it to the funeral last year.”
“Thank you, and no worries. You know Dad wasn’t much about the fuss.”
“True,” I smile. “So you and the eldest Beckett, huh? Married.”
Grace’s eyes track Beckett, who’s helping gather one of the pumpkins Ryder wants. “Wild how the unexpected happens and becomes more than you could have dreamed.”
“It is wild,” I agree quietly, watching West chat with his brothers.
“Well then,” Grace smirks.
“What?” I ask.
The smirk turns into a full-on grin. “Okay. I’m here for this,” she nods.
Shit. I should stop making googly eyes at West. “I don’t know what you mean.” That was just a pitiful lie.
Grace scoffs a laugh. “Alright. I get it. We’ll play that narrative for now. But for the record?” She whispers, “West deserves a good woman. And you would be getting a wonderful man in return.”
“Now, if only I can keep him from getting pummeled by my over-protective brother, we’d be golden.” It feels good to be able to talk to someone without lying.
“He’ll come around. Those two have a deep history. And boys are stupid sometimes. But they catch up eventually,” Grace smiles, covering her eyes from the afternoon sun, watching Ryder wrap the Hunter brothers around his finger.
“I’m happy for you and Beckett. He’s come alive in a way I haven’t seen in years,” I tell her.
Her serene smile has her face glowing. “All of them are healing. One by one. I’m grateful to have watched it happen.
And let me tell you, Camille Lane, people will have their opinions about the person your soul calls for, but in the end, all that matters is the two souls brought together by something greater than societal conventions. ”
“Wise words, Mrs. Hunter,” I grin.
She practically giggles, then sighs. “Damn, that still sounds good, every time.”
We all spend the next hour putting our pumpkins in cars, then surveying the different booths that are decorating for the event in three weeks.
When Daniella calls for end of day so they can zip up and lock the tents for the night, we all part, with an open invitation to the next Hunter Sunday dinner.
I’d been to a few growing up, but it’s been over six years since. Styx is part of that invite, but the likelihood he’d separate himself from MC business is slim. West and I would still have to pretend to be just friends. Though, judging from everyone’s looks tonight, we’re not fooling anyone.
Might have to tell my brother sooner rather than later.