Chapter 2 Camille #2
Since there’s no reason to linger and I don’t want to delay, I rush toward the exit and head into the cool night air.
The parking lot isn’t far, but I run toward my car, still holding my keys as a weapon in case anyone else tries to bother me.
Once I’m in my car, I lock the doors and start the engine.
Only when I’m out of the parking lot and heading home do I begin to relax. But it doesn’t last long. My cell ringing soon shatters the calm I find in my vehicle. I glance at the screen as my knuckles grip the wheel tighter.
Rex Coleman.
How the hell does he still have my number?
I ignore the call and send it to voicemail. He’s persistent. After the third time he calls back, I finally give in and answer with attitude. I can’t help it after the night I’ve had. “What do you want, Rex?”
His deep, sinful voice echoes through my car since I’m using the hands-free feature. “Darlin’, I need you to breathe. I’ve got news about Granny Jo.”
Shit. Every bad scenario I can think of goes through my mind within seconds. My voice cracks as I respond. “Tell me.”
“You need to come home. There’s been an accident.”
Accident? “What do you mean?”
“Someone set the Butter Bliss on fire with Granny Jo inside.”
Oh, God. I can’t seem to think or respond. Shock sweeps through me as I struggle to breathe. Is she injured?
“I’ve got her until you get here, Blissy Girl. Okay?”
Blissy Girl. The nickname implies intimacy we haven’t shared in three years. If I wasn’t so concerned about Granny, I’d tell him to fuck off.
“Rex.” Instead, my voice breaks further as I say his name, and with that single word uttered, a chasm opens in my chest. The one I’ve kept closed all this time. It’s full and bubbling like a volcano ready to explode.
I can’t do this. I’m not going down memory lane with Rex Coleman. “I’m booking the next flight home.”
“I’ll be there to pick you up.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to refuse. The call ends as I slap the steering wheel.
He knows I’d never agree, so Rex does what he usually does: he controls the situation.
I’ll let him pick me up from the airport because it’s the fastest way to see my Granny Jo, but this doesn’t mean the private war that began three years ago is over, because I’m coming home.
I won’t stay. Not in that dead-end town with that bossy, cocky lumberjack biker. Or all the gossipy, judgmental people who made my life hell as a teenager.
Since this is an emergency, I need to contact Kat. She answers after the third ring. “Hey, Kat. I need you to cancel my appointments for the next few days. I’ve got to go home.”
“What happened? Everything okay?”
“No.” I sound as worried as I feel. “Someone burned down my Granny’s bakery while she was inside. I don’t know if she’s okay.”
“Oh, no! I’m booking you a flight right now.” I can hear the keys clicking as she types. “I found one. There’s a to-go bag in your bedroom closet. It’s got everything you need from extra clothes to a phone charger. Your flight leaves in ninety minutes. Can you make it?”
“Yes. Book it.”
“All done.”
“Thank you, Kat. I’ll be in touch.”
“Let me know if there’s anything you need.”
Kat ends the call as I pull up to my house. Once I’ve parked and entered my building, I take the elevator up to my floor. Luckily, there’s no one around to interrupt my brisk walk to my door.
Inside my room, I grab the bag Kat told me about.
She’s right. There’s enough packed to get me through a week, possibly longer.
I don’t need much else except a jacket, which I pick up on my way back out the door.
Raven’s Crest is much cooler than L.A. this time of year.
I lock up and take the elevator again. The concierge, Balen, waves as I approach.
“I need to leave town, and I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone. Could you hold my packages until I return?”
“Of course, Ms. Parker. Do you need any further assistance?”
“If my mailbox gets full, would you hold it with my packages?”
“Yes. No problem. Safe travels.”
“Thank you, Balen.”
I don’t take my car to the airport. Since this is L.A., there’s no shortage of Taxis. I grab one and sit back, trying to stay calm. There’s nothing I can do until I’m back in Raven’s Crest.
By the time I arrive and get through security, there are only a few minutes before boarding begins. I take my seat closest to the window, thankful my row isn’t full. A space between the man in the aisle seat and me makes the flight feel less cramped.
I’m antsy and worried about my Granny, which doesn’t make the long flight an easy trip. By the time I’m disembarking, I’m wound up, exhausted from being up most of the night, and I have zero patience.
Pulling my carry-on bag behind me, I hold onto the handle as I spot the man I don’t want to see.
He’s taller and broader than anyone else in the vicinity.
Those sculpted shoulders, rounded from the hours he dedicates to his family business, hold burdens I can’t begin to imagine.
I know his past and his loss, but it doesn’t give him excuses.
He’s wearing a flannel with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his veiny, muscled forearms.
Rex Coleman stands with a solemn expression, but it’s those eyes that betray his feelings. They’ve always held a depth that feels as bottomless as the deepest part of the ocean. I can see the worry and concern that he doesn’t hide, and I don’t want to think it extends beyond Granny Jo.
“Cami,” he greets me with that voice that still threatens to send a shiver down my spine. Time and distance haven’t changed a damn thing between us. The air becomes supercharged as he moves close, reaching for my bag. “Let me take that.”
“Rex.” I let him take the bag because I’m too tired to argue.
His hand lightly presses to my lower back, and I shrug him off, putting a foot of distance between us as we exit the airport.
The first thing I see is his big black truck with oversized tires, flashy, arrogant, just like Rex. And then I see that stupid bumper sticker that hasn’t had the decency to wear off.
Kiss my ax.
Yeah, I share the sentiment.