Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Campbell
I sit with Jamison at the house she and Iverson built.
The big picture windows face the mountains.
They’re Durban’s neighbors, but I can’t see his place from here.
I’m taking a much-needed break from Hawthorne Ranch and wedding planning.
Nothing was planned for yesterday, but somehow, I’ve become the official vacation guide for the Baldwin family.
After suggesting they go to Bozeman and try some of the amazing restaurants in town, they actually listened and left me alone for the day.
Alone with my thoughts about the family dinner two nights ago.
I can’t believe I did that.
I can’t believe we did that.
Those two sentences have been on repeat since I got off in the storeroom with Durban. Somehow, I managed to avoid him the rest of dinner.
It worked, though. The way Stanford narrowed his eyes when I breezed out of the storeroom lit me up with the most invigorating satisfaction.
Even better—when January noticed her fiancé noticing me.
The punch of insecurity in her gaze was watered-down payback for all the times I worried about whether Stanford was actually working late.
And when Stanford’s parents got snide about the quality of food in the middle of nowhere, Montana, their insulting tone rolled off my freshly orgasmed skin.
Only one thing overshadowed the entire experience.
Once the bride and groom and their family cleared out, I ditched the place too.
I went to my parents’ house, hid in my childhood bedroom, and tried to answer the question of how I wasn’t messing up my redemption story.
If someone had walked in on us? I’d have looked like a floozy who couldn’t control herself through one dinner—and it would have been true.
I would’ve climbed Durban like a mountain if he’d asked me to.
He didn’t ask, but he told me to do a lot of other things.
“I would ask what’s wrong, but I know better,” Jamison says, her hands wrapped over her belly.
She’s officially on maternity leave now, but she’s climbing the walls.
Her husband called me in to make sure she at least keeps off her feet instead of cleaning an already clean house while he takes Kacey to the playground in town.
“The usual,” I lie.
I’ve been replaying the storeroom climax over and over and over.
Between reruns, a litany of questions streams through my head.
Is he really single? I can’t ask anyone without them wondering why.
What would I say? Well, you see, he talked me through masturbation during the family dinner, and I don’t want guilt on top of that.
If he is single, when did he and Natalie break up?
He told me at the tasting, but guys say a lot of things to get what they want.
Every interaction we’ve had since I’ve returned to town is studied in a new light, but I have no new answers.
And the loop starts again. His gruff voice in the dark.
The way he loomed over me, cloaking me in his body heat and caramel-whiskey scent.
I stroked one out, right in front of him, on the other side of the wall from a bunch of people who I had thought would one day be family. Some are my family!
I was on the clock. At my job. With my sister’s brother-in-law.
I’m a hussy and I need to be ashamed.
But I can’t deny that it worked. The release took a lot of stress with it. I have a naughty secret, and Stanford can suck it.
Male voices sound from outside.
Jamison sits up, keeping her swollen legs on the footrest. “Haven and Durban are here.”
I bolt upright, and all the confusion from the last two days knots in my stomach. “I should get going.” Shit. I can’t. Iverson’s not home yet. I’m on sister duty. “Never mind.”
She frowns at me. Her lips are fuller, her nose too, and she’s radiant like she was when she was pregnant with Kacey. “You can go if you need to. I promise not to run a marathon while you’re gone.”
I’m not shirking my responsibility, and I’m definitely not doing it in front of Durban. “I’m fine. I need the reprieve. Stanford and January’s riding lessons start tomorrow.”
“We both know Stanford should not be swinging brides into the saddle or riding off. He doesn’t have the experience. He’s going to hurt himself, her, or Hailstorm.”
“Daddy made him sign all kinds of releases.”
She lets out a disapproving grunt. “Still a dumb move.”
“It keeps me from spiraling. I get to have a nice ride and they think I’m working.”
“So true. I miss it.”
“Soon,” I reassure her.
“Iverson’s looking for a pony for Kacey to start with.”
My heart twists. I’m so happy for Jamison.
I’m going to be a proud aunt when Kacey becomes an accomplished rider.
It doesn’t change that I thought I’d be at the same point as Jamison by now, or at least close.
I’m starting single life all over again, and I haven’t even nailed down a career yet.
It’s like Adulting 101, but I’m almost thirty.
“Do you think Bryce is around?” He’s the owner of the rafting and kayaking tour company in town. “I want to ask if he could use my services now that the tourism season is opening.”
“He’s often at his office downtown, and if he’s not, I’m sure he’s at the river location.” She frowns. “But he’s still cranky that you didn’t go to prom with him, and then you turned him down after college.”
My shoulders hunch. I already had a prom date, and then I was strung out after the stress of finishing school.
Dating had to take the back burner. I’m home now, but dating is the last thing I want to do.
I’m also not interested in Bryce. The drawbacks of trying to make a living in your hometown.
Grudges. “I thought he was dating Winnie.”
“She moved to Idaho with a guy she met on a kayaking run.”
“Ouch.”
The guys’ voices get close to the door. I want to run. I can’t face Durban and act normal. Already, my nipples are hard peaks, and my body’s flushed with heat. For a girl who isn’t a fan of whiskey, I’m craving it in the dark with his voice in my ear.
“Iverson said he could use you at the distillery, though,” she says.
“Me?” My initial inclination is to brush off the help. I need to prove myself, but after this wedding, I might need an easy win.
“Yes. Nothing full-time, but they’re getting asked about office parties for the holidays already. Last year, he said that planning took up more time than expected.”
“But there’s a lot of them.” Three Hennessy brothers and two of the Foster brothers.
“They’re dudes. You think they want to figure out what to do with Edna’s crochet club?”
“Some guys would.”
“Some would enjoy it. They do not, and Iverson will be tied up more with two kids. His brothers are already pitching in a ton. Lane and Cruz were even out here to help with calving this last week.”
“You married into a whole family of dudes who’ve got each other’s back.” I rub my hands together and peer out the window while ignoring the twinge of longing.
I was so excited to meet Stanford’s family.
I grew up close to my sisters, and while my parents are overbearing and constantly point out where I fall short, I’ve missed them too.
After meeting Stanford’s parents, I appreciate mine more.
At least they cared when they asked me about the jobs I left or was fired from.
Stanford’s mom and dad always acted like I’m too country, working a pointless job and worthless for conversation because I don’t follow the stock market.
Last night brought all those memories back. All the eye rolls Priscilla didn’t think I saw. Or the way Chester stared at my tits but wrote off my intelligence. Stanford had to get it from somewhere.
Yet they approve of January. My cousin, who sells jewelry and works the same job she got out of college. Perfect, demure January who does what she’s told.
The door opens, and Haven and Durban spill inside. The urge to sprint out the back door surges inside me.
“We brought food!” Haven shouts. “But don’t move. We’ve been ordered to give you lunch in bed.”
“I’m on the couch,” Jamison calls.
“Lunch on the couch, then,” he says, carrying grocery bags through the house to us. The smell of roasted chicken fills the air. Jamison’s main pregnancy craving.
Jamison scoots up. “Rotisserie chicken?”
“We were told we’d better not show up without it.” Durban’s behind Haven with his arms full of paper towels and disposable plates. “We were also told that we’d better not touch the thighs or you’ll gut us.”
His deep voice ripples over my skin in a way Haven’s doesn’t. I need to go, or I’m going to be a mixed-up, turned-on mess, while Durban is as handsomely casual as can be.
“I’ll fight a bitch for those thighs.” Jamison pats the spot next to her. “Wanna sit by me, Campbell? The guys can join us and have the chairs.”
The warm brush of Durban’s gaze strokes over me. My belly somersaults. If I have one bite of the food, I’ll heave it all over the coffee table. I don’t need that on top of the wedding stress. “Uh, no. Thanks. I should get going.”
“You’re missing out. Living room picnics are the best.” Haven digs out grapes, sliced melon, and fresh bread that makes my hunger knock on my stomach walls.
It’s from Elodie’s bakery. Maybe I’ll run there right now, buy a dozen of everything, and hide from the way Durban’s studying me, as if he wasn’t just leaning over me less than forty-eight hours ago, telling me what to do as if he knows my body better than me.
“You’re leaving?” Jamison puts her legs down, but I wave her off.
“They want to be proper guests on the ranch tomorrow,” I say, “so I have to check in with the staff and make sure we’re good to go.”
There’ll be branding, and that’s always a huge draw. Daddy makes it a production with roping and wrangling and hot-from-the-fire iron brands, instead of chutes and panels and electric branding irons.
She rolls her eyes. “They aren’t going to appreciate it.”