Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Durban
She bends over me, hair sweeping across my chest as she makes her way down my body. When she reaches the erection bobbing in front of her face, she looks up at me, rewarding me with a sultry grin. Eagerness lights her gray eyes—
I come awake with a start. My heartbeat throbs in my dick, pounding at a steady rate, demanding I finish what my dream started.
Fuck. Is my brain getting revenge on Natalie by replacing her with Campbell? I have to think of something else.
Definitely not how wet her lips would be—
No. Not that. What do I need to do today?
My daily to-do list trickles into my head. I have to meet Campbell at the lodge. Must be why she’s on my mind. The revelations from my meeting with her last week have stuck with me.
Stanford made her late for her sister’s wedding. Why wouldn’t she throw him in front of everyone’s judgment?
And three alarms? At least she knows she struggles with time and tries to adjust for it. Though it doesn’t always work.
My phone vibrates. As if I’ve summoned her straight off her knees in my dream, she texts me.
Campbell: Stanford and January are here FYI
Not the best news, but everything’s beginning. I set the phone down. My erection is still determined to stick around.
I sit up, wincing at the way my boxer briefs throttle my cock. Rubbing at my eyes, I slide out of bed and trudge to the shower, bringing my phone with me.
Time for a stern talk with myself. Dreams aren’t real. They don’t reveal hidden obsessions. I’ve been fielding texts and reminders to download some planning app from Campbell. That’s why she appeared in my dream—with those ripe, full lips and that long, satiny hair.
I turn on my country playlist and start the shower. My erection’s barely flagging, and I need that damn thing gone before I meet Campbell to go over the layout. She offered to tell me over the phone or email a diagram, but my dumb ass said I’d meet with her instead.
I wash myself, ignoring my insistent erection until I’m clean. Then I sigh and grip the base, squeezing just how I like it.
Pleasure courses through me, and images flash through my head. Tits. A round ass. Chestnut hair with blond highlights that is so damn soft . . .
Hell no. I can’t think about Campbell. She’s my brother’s annoying sister-in-law. She’s too young for me.
She’s no longer the “barely out of college” girl I first met.
By now, blood’s hammering in my dick, and I’m pumping faster, re-creating the weight of Campbell’s body in my arms, how her ass wiggles right in my face, and the graze of her breasts against my shoulders.
Arousal pumps hot through my veins, and I forget that I should get some soap or lotion to stroke myself with.
The shower-fresh smell of her on my sweatshirt rises nice and crystal fucking clear in my head.
I come on a long moan, hot spurts hitting the wall and the floor of the shower. I catch my breath and sag against the shower wall. What the hell? I never get myself off that fast.
Dammit, now I have a mess to clean up and images I have to forever push out of my head when I’m around Campbell Hawthorne.
There’s no way that sexy-as-hell image is leaving. It’s burned into every neuron in my brain, and it’s from my imagination. Shit.
After I dry off and get dressed, I heat a breakfast sandwich and eat it on the drive to the Hawthorne Ranch. When I pull into the parking lot, guests mill around the grounds and chill on the front porch. How many are Baldwins?
I don’t like them on principle.
Inside the lodge, I spot the happy couple cuddling on the couch. Stanford’s running his hands through January’s hair—hair that’s even closer to Campbell’s shade of highlighted brown than before.
Why does January look like the queen of the rodeo ring with her studded blue jeans, pristine cowboy boots, and a plain tee tight enough to be a second skin?
It’s like the easy country style Campbell wore for the meeting last week—minus the easy.
Stanford has black slacks and a light-pink dress shirt on.
They look like a poster for opposites attract.
They don’t deem me worth a glance as I stride past them toward the meeting room, and after the morning I’ve had, that’s just fine.
I enter to find Campbell with her face buried in her hands. All this has got to be affecting her sleep. Clearing my throat, I take a seat.
She jerks back. “Oh. Sorry. I should’ve known you’d be early.”
“If you’re on time, you’re late.” It’s a cliché, but one that Darin Bailey drilled into us during our time fostering with him.
“I never understood that.” She sits back, her complexion wan, and picks at the sleeves of her loose blouse. “I mean, if I’m on time, I’m on time. Before that, it’s my time, and I don’t need to give that up for someone.”
Good point. “So argues the youth.”
She blinks at me. Blinks again. “How old and wizened are you?”
“Forty.”
She licks her tongue across her bottom lip. “I’m twenty-eight.”
“See? Youth.”
She reclines in her seat and lets her gaze travel over me.
If she keeps it up, she’s going to find a very prominent bulge behind my fly.
I’m not immune to a beautiful woman’s attention, and Campbell is another level of sexy altogether.
“Well, you look good for your age. I would’ve guessed thirty-nine and a half at the most.”
The chuckle that leaves me is startling. “It’s the complete lack of sunscreen use. Keeps a guy young.”
Her laughter tinkles right over me. “It’s the fresh mountain air that ages a guy.”
We share a grin, and my heart does a hard clench, as if it’s been orbiting in one direction and suddenly shifted. I rub my sternum and take a seat. Back to business. “Do you want to show me where you want everything? I’ll need to access the location with a delivery truck.”
She frowns, and I don’t like that one bit. “Are they still making out on the couch out there?”
Seeing that must’ve been hard. She could be over him six ways to Sunday, but the sting would remain. “Couples that have to prove to the world they’re solid are often the most fractured.”
“Except you know how the youths are.” She shoots me a knowing look. “Are you saying you wouldn’t be out there sucking face with Natalie?”
Definitely not, and I should say so. I don’t. “I’d take her aside in an empty room or a closet, and then I’d make damn sure she had time to gather herself after so people wouldn’t look at her and know exactly what we’d done. Because that’s for us. No one else.”
The person I’m with in that dark closet has highlighted chestnut hair. My shower experiences aren’t staying in the shower, dammit.
Her lips puff open, and there’s yearning in her eyes. Stanford never made her feel that special? “Isn’t spontaneity romantic?”
“I never said it wouldn’t be spontaneous.”
The apples of her cheeks flush pink, almost like they were in my dream. “Maybe you should give Stanford some notes on romance.”
I’m the last guy to talk to about romance.
“He’s not getting a damn thing from me other than an amazing drink, and only because my pride can’t serve him a weak one.
But once this event is done, the one we’re doing as a favor for you, then he’s not allowed to step foot on Hennessy property.
I’m sure the rest of the guys will agree to ban him from Foster House too. ”
Her eyes glisten. “You’d do that for me?”
“It’s the principle.”
“And you’re a man of principle.”
I nod.
She looks at the door, then back at me. “Can I ask you something personal?”
“Shoot.”
“The whole long-distance thing. You’ve never wanted to . . . You’ve been loyal?”
“Have I ever cheated?”
She nods.
“No.” I bypass the explanation of how I’m a single man. My brothers already think my loyalty is misplaced.
“Hmph. Then you really do need to give him notes. I practically lived with the man, and he still found time to step out.” She straightens her spine and pushes back. “We’d better get to work.”
“You got any alarms set?”
“Just the one to meet with Chef tonight to go over the final menus, but that’s not until after he’s done with the evening meal.”
The kitchen provides food for all the guests and the workers for both sides of the ranch. “Let’s go then.”
She marches out of the meeting room, and I follow her. She doesn’t glance at the couple on one of the plush couches. January’s cupping Stanford’s face in her hands, practically straddling him. Groans and whimpers can be heard, but Campbell doesn’t react.
I hate both of them even more.
We go out the front door, and she takes the stone path that curves around the house and leads all the way to the pavilion in the back.
She’s not wearing a dress today, but the air has a spring chill to it that’ll be gone by this afternoon.
Instead, she’s got on rust-colored leggings and a spring-green sweater that falls past her ass.
Her cowboy boots are the same as the ones she wore at Bootleg Tavern.
The breeze ruffles her hair, and once again, the memory of the silky strands haunts my fingers. Noticing the way her hips sway doesn’t help. I refrain from adjusting myself. I’m not going to get an erection just because I’m walking behind a woman.
Perhaps it makes a difference when the woman is Campbell Hawthorne.
The pavilion is safe to look at. Comprised mostly of beams, the long rectangular structure has the same rustic Western style of the guest lodge behind us.
If the winter is mild, William has the staff set up firepits or domed tents with their own heaters so guests can relax and take meals in the great Montana outdoors.
This whole idea is a new development since I left.
Campbell steps off the path before the pavilion and points down to the barn.
“He wants to ride a horse into the sunset with his bride. After the, uh, vows.” Tension lines her face.
“He wants to swoop her up and ride away.” She blinks and wipes at her eye.
“Sorry. The wind must’ve blown dirt into my eye. ”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
She sniffs. “About what?”
“If the extra work of readying horses and hoping like hell Stanford can keep his seat and not dump his bride doesn’t give the couple pause, the pure corniness has to.”
She scowls. “It’s not corny.”
“It’s corny. Cheesy. Lame. Whatever the kids say these days. Moreover, it’s a hazard. The horses the guests ride are used to people. They’re used to the trails and cattle. They’re not used to galloping away with two riders.”
“I reiterated all that to the bride and groom, and it’s not lame. It’s romantic.”
I scoff. “A groom riding in on horseback?”
“Maybe not that part, but riding off into the sunset. With the mountains in the background?”
“Superfluous at best.”
She lets out a frustrated huff. “It is not. There’s nothing more Hawthorne Ranch than a wedding with horses.” She stomps toward the pavilion.
Why is she championing some over-the-top nonsense the bride and groom—
Shit. I charge after her. “It’s what you wanted.”
She stops, her body ramrod straight.
Aw hell. The birds around us chirp away, unaware that I just insulted Campbell’s dream wedding that she has to plan for her cheating ex and her cousin. “You wanted to ride off into the sunset with the love of your life, and now you have to plan that for January.”
She stuffs a boot into the grass. “Like you said, it’s corny anyway.”
“No.” Yes. I shove a hand through my hair and grip the back of my neck. “It’s over the top, yes, but if you can’t be over the top on your wedding day, then when can you?”
“Good cover, but you think it’s silly. You made it clear.” She pins me with her sad gray eyes. “Just don’t make your opinions known to them, please.”
The please on the end cuts right through me and lets the guilt pour out. “I won’t.”
“The ceremony will take place on that end.” She pretends like the moment never happened and points to the far side of the pavilion before swinging her arm to the middle.
“The chairs will be moved and tables set up for the meal, and the wet bar will be in the back. Dance floor and band where the altar was. We can roll the partitions down for any sun, wind, or rain that interferes with the day, and we have the screens for when it’s getting dark and the bugs are out.
The family meal will be in the bar in the lodge, but the bridal luncheon and groom’s dinner will be out here. ”
Her tight-lipped smile does nothing to make me feel better.
I meet her gaze with an assessing one of my own.
“Are you sure you don’t want someone else to bartend?” she asks, catching me off guard.
“Why?”
“Can you serve drinks without looking at someone like they’re the most inane person you’ve ever met?”
“I do it every week.”
She cocks her head. “Do you though?”
I cross my arms. “Care to explain what that’s supposed to mean?”
Waving her hand in front of her face, she gives me a you know? look. “You say a lot without saying a word.”
I’ve never heard that before. “I do not.”
“Do too.”
I almost keep going with the childish argument. “No. I don’t.”
She cocks a hip and adopts an I’m sick of your shit expression, followed by a You’re a dumbass flat look.
Then she juts her other hip out and gives me an I don’t want to be here eye roll that could also say I don’t want you to be here.
Finally, she does a long blink while staring right at me, her mouth in a neutral line, but her eyes say everything. Do you have any idea what you’re doing?
Flummoxed, I prop my hands on my hips. “I don’t look like that.”
She plucks at invisible lint on her sleeve. “You look at me like that all the time.”
“How do you know that’s what I’m thinking?”
“Because you don’t look at your brothers that way. You don’t look at Jamison or Avery like that. Or my parents.” She tips her head back and forth. “Mostly. You give Daddy this look.”
Her face screams I can’t believe you.
She’s right. All of it. I can feel those expressions on myself, and yes, from when I’ve been around her. “You can think what you want. Doesn’t mean you’re right.”
“People write me off as scatterbrained and clueless. Doesn’t mean they’re right.
” She pivots and takes off across the lawn.
“That’s all I need, other than to let Chef know you’ll be giving him the list of supplies for each bar setup.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to talk to Grady, the guest ranch manager, and verify which horses will work the best for the superfluous sunset ride.
If anything comes up, you know how to reach me. ”
I was that guy who wrote her off. Despite what Natalie thinks, I’m a smart man. I won’t make that mistake again.