Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Campbell
I wore my most comfortable cowboy boots since I didn’t want to show any more leg than I had to today, but after hours, my feet hurt.
Durban hasn’t cracked a smile once all night, even when Daddy ordered a drink.
Neither of them looks like they’re enjoying their night.
Durban at least comes off as sternly professional.
Daddy’s red face makes me question if he’s got heartburn or if he’s having a heart attack.
As for the rest of the crowd, they seem to be enjoying themselves.
Stanford’s cousins from the East Coast and the friends of his I had a hard time tolerating when we were together dutifully ignore me.
When my back’s turned, it’s a different story.
Murmurs ignite and the spot between my shoulders burns with their stares, but I haven’t overheard anything, and that’s fine with me.
I don’t know what narrative Stanford and January spun, and I don’t want to.
I can brush off the furtive looks that turn innocent when I’m close, but if that’s the worst, I’ll chalk this up to a successful, if frustrating, evening.
There’s been plenty of shitting on Montana.
The guys joked about how they were surprised the lodge doesn’t have outhouses, or why they didn’t get full-body long johns, the kind with the flap in the back for taking a shit, when they checked in.
I’d be insulted, but my imagination created a humorous image of all these boastful men in onesie pajamas.
Then I tried picturing Durban in a pair, and my mouth went dry.
His muscles would only complement the style.
The sun has set, and most of the light in the sky is dying.
The bug netting was lowered a couple of hours ago.
It’s almost ten thirty, and many of the guys are filtering out.
Stanford sees them all off, casting glances toward Durban and my dad.
My uncle was one of the first to leave. Seeing how well the wedding is going off seems to give him the same heartburn/heart attack appearance as Daddy.
A vine of satisfaction winds around my heart.
If my aunt and uncle dislike Stanford and have to eat their emotions the entirety of the marriage, that’s a small but sweet revenge.
“Go ahead and call it a night, Stanford,” Daddy says gruffly. “I’ll make sure everything’s wrapped up.”
Irritation ripples through Stanford’s glassy eyes. “It’s early. There wasn’t enough planned for tonight.”
I bristle against the censure. There were free drinks, free food—five courses—cards for poker, and a blackjack table in the corner. It was all funny money, but with the firepit and even more free booze, what did he expect? “I could’ve busted out Twister.”
Durban snorts behind me, and I repress the urge to share an amused look with him. My ex grinds his teeth together so hard I can’t believe I don’t hear his molars crack.
“Eh,” Daddy says, rising and slapping Stanford on the back, rightfully defusing the situation when we’re so close to the finish line. “It was a groom’s dinner and not a bachelor party. The difference isn’t just strippers.”
Stanford rolls his eyes. “Listen, about tomorrow, I know Jan wants me to ride up, but I’d like you to bring the horses to us right after we say our vows, William.”
I frown. That would mean Daddy would miss the wedding. Not a hardship for him, but inconsiderate all the way around.
Stanford tugs at the collar of his gray dress shirt. “I’m not smelling like a horse when I say my vows. There has to be some sophistication at some point.” Without waiting for Daddy to answer, he starts for the path. “I’m going to check on my bride and turn in.”
“Good idea. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.” Daddy waits for Stanford to step off the pavilion platform. “And the first day of the rest of your life,” he calls.
There’s a stutter in Stanford’s step, and Daddy’s laugh is silent, but his chest is shaking.
“If that gives him a hitch in his giddyap, then there’s trouble in paradise.
” He circles a finger at Durban. “Pour me the strongest thing you’ve got, Hennessy.
I know there’s something hiding back there.
” Daddy blows out a breath. “Pour three of ’em. We deserve it.”
He hobbles off to talk to the few staff members loading carts and cleaning out any remaining dishes and garbage. The chairs will remain out, and the tables will get wiped and hauled out tomorrow when it’s daylight.
When the last of the staff clatters their carts across the yard, Daddy takes a seat. I sit across from him, and Durban puts a glass with a finger of what I guess is whiskey in front of each of us. He settles down next to me. The night is warm, but I soak up his heat.
Daddy takes a big drink, downing half of what’s in his glass. “Good stuff,” he says on a sigh. He holds up his drink and rotates it, letting the amber liquid catch the light. “I had no idea you boys could do more than cowboy.”
“Daddy!” How can parents say something so instantly mortifying?
I’m not touching Durban, but I can guess how tense he just got.
Dad shrugs. “They were good cowboys. Damn good.” He lifts his glass like he wants us to clink ours against it.
“I’m not toasting that,” I say tightly.
“It’s all right.” Durban raises his glass and gives me an encouraging smile. “How ’bout we toast to being underestimated. I’m guilty of it too,” he says softly.
I warm inside. He means me. I clink my plastic cup to theirs. “That makes all of us.”
I grin at him, and his eyes twinkle. I want to say more, but Daddy’s watching us. Smiling at my dad, I take a drink. Maybe soon I’ll have something to tell him.
Daddy polishes off his whiskey and slams the cup to the table. He heaves out a weary sigh. “This wedding, kiddo . . .” Rubbing his hand over his mustache, he shakes his head. “We should just cancel it. Bow out and tell my brother to take it somewhere else.”
Hope surges inside me and crashes just as quickly. He would do it. I wouldn’t even have to beg. So I need to be strong enough to see this through, all the way around. The ceremony. Keeping my fling with Durban a secret. Maintaining my professionalism. “There’s too much on the line. I can do this.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” he grumbles.
I lift a shoulder. It’s been a long evening of watching my ex boast about himself and listening to him trash many of the things I love. Strain has sunk into my muscles like I soaked in it. “One more day. Maybe I should plan a spa day for Sunday.”
“For the whole week,” Daddy says.
“And the next weekend.” The corners of Durban’s eyes crinkle with his sort of smile. He flicks his gaze toward Daddy and back to me. “Go somewhere by yourself. No exes allowed.”
By myself. Ouch. He was saying that for my dad’s benefit, right? Does Durban want this thing between us to be nothing but a fling? Something to bridge the gap until he finds another uber-smart woman who gets his science jokes.
“Tomorrow is gonna be a tough one.” Daddy scoots his chair back. Fatigue lines his eyes, and even his mustache is drooping. “Honestly, I expected this to be worse. January could’ve been more of a bridezilla, and the silver spoons could’ve been even bigger pricks.”
“They’re still pricks.” Durban glowers at his cup.
“Yeah.” Daddy stands and stretches. “But after tomorrow, my brother can be a prick without his name anywhere on this property. Thanks to Campbell.” I flash Daddy a wan smile. He cocks his head toward the screen. “Let’s head out. The staff is going to flip this in the morning.”
“Go on, Daddy. I need to review tomorrow with Durban in case it’s too chaotic to touch base before the reception starts.”
He pauses, looking at me and then outside. The lights around the lodge illuminate much of the yard, but the pavilion is an oasis with a gravel path lined with temporary solar lights.
“I’ll make sure she gets to her car okay,” Durban says. The man made me a promise and he’s going to keep it. For me.
I’m falling so hard for him. It’s more than how he makes me feel physically. He takes care of me. We might be trying to hide our fling, but he’s still watching out for me.
My heart swells so damn big in my chest when I take him in, reclining in his chair with an ankle kicked over his knee.
His hair is still neatly combed after a busy night of filling orders and getting talked at like he’s a posable mannequin.
A situation like that is his hell, but he played the game because I asked him to.
Daddy’s waiting for me to give the okay. I get up and round the table to give him a hug. “Good night.”
He squeezes my ribs. “I’m proud of you, kiddo. Say the word, and I’ll abort this thing.”
Word.
Word, word, word.
My time with Durban would also be up. The chaos that would ensue if the wedding got called off? I’d lose track of Durban, and then what? I call him? I look at my phone every three seconds waiting on him? I go into the distillery like an obsessed fan and do the walk of shame out if he rejects me?
Ugh. The wedding has to be a go. “It’s fine. Love you. Say good night to Mama for me.”
He gives me another pat before he ducks out of the netting and takes the path to the parking lot.
I don’t return to the table. Durban tracks me as I wander around the pavilion.
I trail my fingers over the nets. Stanford demanded that Daddy spray for bugs, but my ex didn’t get his way. My uncle even tried to strong-arm Daddy, but he wouldn’t budge. I can still hear his growl. We work with the land, we don’t fight against it.
The legs of Durban’s chair scrape against the wooden floor. “This place is going to be transformed tomorrow.” The steady thud of his boots sounds behind me, growing closer.