Chapter 18 #2
Campbell’s wringing her hands, and from my periphery, I can see Stanford mean-mugging me. He knows we’re having sex. Well, he suspects it. But the bottom line is that he’s upset, and we’re facing down the last twenty-four hours.
She’s giving me that worried look, the one that says she’s scared I’ll be disappointed. I am. Who wouldn’t be if they were told by Campbell that they shouldn’t touch her tonight? She’s also fretting about my reaction toward Stanford.
I lean on the makeshift bar I’m going to stand behind for the next five hours until eleven, when the guys will all go to their rooms for a night of sleep before the big day.
No hijinks allowed. While I might like the plan, I would bet January set the curfew.
She doesn’t want to be in her room, being a good little bride and not seeing the groom the night before the wedding, but she also doesn’t want to be made a fool.
There’s no way she’s giving Stanford a green light to spend the night away from her when Campbell’s in the area.
If January truly fears that something could happen, then she doesn’t know her cousin very well.
Campbell would never betray her like that. I have that misplaced loyalty in common with Campbell.
Campbell flutters her fingers in the air. “I know it’s not fair, but I don’t dare leave the pavilion or he might come looking for me.”
He could try. He’d be stopped. I lean closer to her, not in an intimate way, but like we’re discussing how many drinks to serve each of the groom’s party.
“Belle, it’s okay. I’m not going to get you in trouble, and as much as I’d like to be the thorn under that man’s collar, I’m not messing with his night.
” I maintain eye contact so she knows I’m serious. “Because it would mess with you.”
Finally, her shoulders relax. “Thank you.”
“There’s nothing to thank me for. You asked me to be professional.”
“Believe me, I wish I had the guts to be unprofessional.”
“There’s a lot riding on this.” A lot that her parents should stand up for and not her alone. William has been doing what he can to take the pressure off. All of the staff of Hawthorne Guest Ranch has, but the vast majority is on Campbell’s strong shoulders.
I only admire her fortitude more.
“I need a drink to kick this party off,” she mutters.
She props a hand close to mine on the portable bar top and one on her hip.
To anyone else, we’re shooting the breeze, and she’s telling me to water down the liquor to keep these guys from getting out of line.
I already planned to do that. I brought the lowest-proof spirits with the most flavor and chose the manliest cocktails that make a guy not realize how much nonalcoholic stuff is already in there.
I basically do the opposite of what Silas would do at Bootleg Tavern.
I put a plastic glass on the bar top. Her gaze drops to it, then lifts to me.
The ice bucket was dropped off just as I arrived. I dig out two round balls—Chef made sure even the ice was fancy—then I grab a bottle of cucumber-and-jalapeno-infused vodka. “This is new.”
Interest shines in her eyes. Much better than how fraught she was minutes ago.
I pour a small splash. She won’t want to drink a lot, and it’s not enough for anyone to find reproachful if they see her having a drink. Then I fill the cup with club soda and add an umbrella left over from the luncheon.
She takes a sip, and a little one of those moans I love slips out. “Ohmigosh, that’s refreshing.”
I grin, proud as hell when infusions are the easiest thing we can do. “We’re going to use that for the Rafting and Tasting event next month with the huckleberry mint.”
“Your idea?”
“I get to do stuff outside the box and customize each event we do. Iverson also suggested I speak with an event planner and come up with more ideas.”
She takes a drink and looks around before leaning in. “I heard you’re sleeping with one.”
I lean closer. “Belle, we ain’t sleeping.”
She giggles, and the happy sound draws attention. “More events?” She’s in business mode. Relaxed, but her brain is whirring. “What do you have planned already?”
“The bigger street fairs.”
She takes a drink and plays the liquid over her tongue.
I know just how it’d taste if I kissed her—refreshing, just like summer.
“What about a smaller, more targeted craft fair, like food crafts?” Excitement flares bright in her gray eyes.
“Local one. A Huckleberry Springs street fair during the height of tourist season. All local vendors.”
“I like it. We can bring the people to us. I bet you could even pull it off this summer.”
Her pleased smile curls right through me.
“On a smaller scale. I’ll reach out to Elodie, and— Oh!
You know what you could do?” Her thrill grabs Stanford’s attention, and I don’t have to do anything to rub it in his face.
She’s living her life right now, doing a job she enjoys, and it’s getting under his collar.
“She’s doing the Billings street fair. What if she uses some Foster House spirits in her goods, and you guys cross-promote each other?
Each booth can send people to the other. ”
Damn, that’s a good idea. She came up with it that quickly? “I’ll talk to the guys and we’ll link up with Elodie. Then you can work on the fair.”
Her grin turns triumphant, and warmth infuses my insides. I put that there, and it wasn’t because of sex. “And you can use both events, should they happen, as reasons to try something new.”
How did I ever think Campbell was selfish? She makes things happen for others. She’s always thinking of them. “You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”
She takes another sip of her cocktail and casts her eyes downward, as if the attention is too much. “It’s just part of the job.”
“No, it’s much more than that.”
Her blush is going to make everyone think we’re fucking, and we are, but in this moment, her flush is because someone appreciates her.
I don’t want to be just another person in her life who makes her feel alone.
When this damn weekend is done, I’m dropping my heart at her feet.
If she wants to kick it, I’ll deal with it.
But if she wants to just let it stay there, in her vicinity, I’ll be happy.
Because Campbell Hawthorne is a girl worth waiting for.
She sets the drink behind the bar, in the corner of the workstation, and grabs her tablet. “Can you keep this safe while I double-check everything?”
“Yes.” Before she leaves, I almost grab her wrist, but that might put the tension back into her shoulders. “Campbell?”
She spins around, and the skirt of her dress swirls. She’s got her tablet tucked into the crook of her elbow, and she hugs it closer. Intelligent. Competent. Sexy as hell. I thought I had a type, but it’s her. Just her.
I do the same surreptitious look she did earlier. “I’m not leaving you alone tonight. I’ll walk you to your car—and all the way to my place.” I lower my voice for the last part. “And you’re going to wear that Dee’s Sweets sweater of mine and nothing else to bed.”
A grin spreads across her face, like the damn sunrise just for me. “Promise?”
“Fact.”