Chapter 1 #3
A hand grabs my shoulder just as she clenches my ass, and a loud retch rips from her. I set her on her feet, but she falls to her knees and vomits. I drop with her and gather her long, silky strands away from her face.
The ringleader, who had it bad for Campbell, jumps back, disgust twisting his face. “Fucking gross.”
His buddies look equally horrified. They ditch us and rush back into the bar.
Well, that’s one way to take care of them.
The pool of puke grows behind my pickup. Campbell’s narrow shoulders shake as she heaves, rocking forward to throw up, then back to catch her breath.
A sob wrenches out of her, and she drags a shaky wrist across her mouth. The smell rises around us like a noxious cloud.
“Are you done?” I ask.
She spits, but nods. “I think so,” she wheezes.
“I think I have some napkins in the truck.”
“Okay.” She sounds so small my normal irritation tamps down, but not far. All of this was preventable, but she won’t fucking listen.
I help her up and hang on to her shoulders as she stumbles to the passenger door. She doesn’t get in.
“I think . . .” She swallows. “I think I got puke on my dress.”
It’s in her hair too. “It’s fine. I’ll clean up everything in the morning. Let me get you home.”
She still doesn’t move. “I don’t want to go home.” She sniffles.
“Where else are you going to go?” I snap.
Her shiny eyes fill with tears, and there’s a weird twist in my chest. “I can’t go home like this.”
“What were you planning to do when you were pounding shots?”
She sniffs, but a couple of tears roll down her cheeks. Maybe they’re just from the effort of heaving her night of fun onto the pavement. “I would’ve figured it out. I can take care of myself, Durban.”
“It looks like it.”
She huffs out a breath. “I’ve made it this far without you.”
“And without me, you’d have made it under one or all three of those guys. Does that sound better?”
More tears gather, and she looks away. The tip of her nose matches the flush of her cheeks. “Maybe I should just sleep it off in my car.”
“Where those assholes can find you?”
She scrunches her nose. “I’ll sleep in the back. They won’t be able to see me.” She smacks her lips and pulls a face. “I need mouthwash and a shower.” Her expression turns stricken. “I guess I should go home.”
I can understand her earlier trepidation. If her dad saw her like this, he’d lose his shit. He’s uptight on a normal day, but something about the meetings at the ranch this weekend has him wound tighter than a bowline knot.
I can’t bother Iverson and Jamison. As impetuous as Campbell is, she’d never forgive herself if Jamison stressed herself over this. Avery, the middle Hawthorne sister, lives outside of Salt Lake City.
“Get in,” I say.
Her expression crumples, but she recovers as much pride as a puke-stained drunk woman can summon. She holds her skirt and climbs into the pickup. She nearly slips out, and I move to catch her, but she plants herself in the seat before I can help her.
I close the door and round the pickup. I stop to toe some dirt over the vomit splatter, not worrying about covering it entirely. It joins one of many soaking into Bootleg’s parking lot, and Campbell’s pukefest may not be the last of the night.
I hop into the driver’s seat and start the engine. The soft weight of her gaze rests on me as I pull out of the parking lot.
When I turn in the opposite direction from Hawthorne Ranch, she peers out the window. “Where are we going?”
“You can stay at my place, use my shower, and I’m sure I’ve got a spare toothbrush somewhere.” From all those times Natalie couldn’t come visit.
“I can’t. You’ve already . . .” She erratically waves a hand.
“You got a better option?”
She hunches her shoulders. I know I’m being hard on her, but come on. We don’t say anything until I pull up in front of my house. I built this place a few years ago, after the major renovations on Foster House’s second facility, Foster House Gold, were done.
A foolish part of me wishes she could see it in the daylight.
Would she admire the size? Be impressed that a simple distiller like me could afford a place like this?
I was the hired help for part of her life when I worked for her dad on the working side of his ranch.
He had the guest ranch that was for show, and then the real cow-calf operation to supplement his income.
She’s probably seen my place before. Iverson and Sunny have probably given her the grand tour of our family land, the legacy my father left behind.
But my headlights only light up the sprawling two-story log cabin.
I made sure it had a deck that faces west so I can watch the sunset over the mountains.
I hit the button for the garage door and pull inside. My space is neat and orderly. I’m working at the distillery much of the day, but I have a few chickens and some cattle my brothers and I run grazing the forty acres between us in town.
“Nice place,” she says quietly.
“Thanks.” I climb out of my pickup, and her feet are hitting the ground before I’m on the other side.
My chest damn near puffs up with pride when I lead her from the garage into the house.
The entry space doubles as both mudroom and laundry room, and I gave it more square footage than necessary.
After years of living in a bunkhouse with a bunch of cowboys, I like being able to spread my shit out without anyone else’s ratty underwear hanging in my face.
She’s toeing out of her cowboy boots, hanging on to the doorframe for dear life, when I remember I have a dryer full of clean clothes.
“I’ve got a sweater or something here for you.” Rummaging around in my clean clothes, I find an old Dee’s Sweets sweatshirt I bought when the bakery in town first opened. I grab that and a bath towel.
She blinks, trying to focus on the logo when I hold it out to her. “You bought merch from Elodie?”
Elodie’s the quiet baker who owns Dee’s Sweets. “I’ll buy all of her merch if it keeps her open. No offense, but your dad didn’t let the guys have the good desserts unless we paid for them. Elodie gives regulars ten percent off.”
A giggle bubbles out of Campbell. “Daddy can be such a cheap bastard. And everyone thinks Elodie’s so sweet, but she upcharges so she can make it seem like locals get a discount.”
Disbelief swells in my chest. I scoff. “Not Elodie. She’s too timid to tell Pete Creighton to leave when he smells like he’s slept in piss for a month and stares at her tits.”
“But she’ll tell her cousin, Deputy Palmer, and he’ll come and remove Pete.” She smirks. My astonishment must be scrawled across my face. “She’s devious, churlish, and she can be underhanded if it means a few extra bucks.”
“You don’t like her?”
Campbell recoils and nearly loses her balance. Confusion lines her brows. “She’s one of my favorite people.”
I bark out a laugh. Campbell’s always full of surprises, and usually, I don’t like it. But right now, this is the most honest I’ve seen her. She’s not acting out for show, being the center of attention. She’s got crusted vomit on her, and she needs to sleep it off.
I gesture to the washing machine. “Just toss your stuff in. There’s a bathroom on the main level.
Go through the hallway by the office and take a left.
It’s right there. There’s a guest room next door, so go on in when you’re ready.
” I scratch the back of my neck. I haven’t had a woman in my home, other than my sister-in-law, and it wasn’t supposed to be Campbell naked in my shower, or sleeping between my sheets.
She’s my guest, and I have a guest room. That’s all.
Her nod’s shaky. She twines her fingers together and scrunches her toes into the rug. She looks so fucking young and vulnerable. What would’ve happened if I hadn’t stopped in tonight? How has she survived this long without getting hurt or taken advantage of?
She fiddles with the ends of her hair, grimaces when she touches some dried strands, and drops them. “Thank you.”
“I have chores in the morning, and I gotta run to the distillery.” Then I have a meeting at Hawthorne with Iverson in the afternoon. A nice, busy day after the shit night I’ve had. “I’m going to get a later start since I had to watch out for you.”
“I didn’t ask you to.” The flare of irritation infuses color into her cheeks. Good.
“But you needed me to.” I hold her defiant stare until she drops it. “So you can give me a call to give you a ride to your car, but I can’t promise I can get here right away.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“Fuck’s sake, Campbell. You can’t do anything on your own, so quit trying.”
Hurt swims in her eyes.
I’m a bastard. I really meant to tell her it’s okay to ask for help. That’s not how it came out. I can’t quit pointing out all the many ways she crawls under my skin.
“Call me when you need a ride to your car, and I’ll get back when I can.
Night.” I rush from the mudroom and into the kitchen.
I gather water and some over-the-counter pain meds to put in the guest room while she’s in the shower as a way to forget how luminous her big gray eyes are. How they draw a man in.
Nothing will wipe how she felt tipped over my shoulder and how silky her hair is. I’m not attracted to Campbell Hawthorne. Obviously, she’s gorgeous. Full lips and fuller hips. Powerful legs that make a guy think about having his head between them.
Good thing I’m not a guy driven by base desires. Or it’d be fucking torture to think about how she’s started the washing machine, and that means she’s buck-ass naked in the next room.