4. Cami #2
I park in my usual spot behind my trailer and get everything unloaded. There’s already half a dozen trucks parked, waiting for me to open up in twenty minutes. I get my fresh coffee going and stock the bakery case.
While the heat warms up the trailer, it doesn’t take long for the line to grown even longer.
Locals chat and speculate about the film crew on the picnic tables I have set up out front.
I pour drip coffees, make lattes, and hand out pastries.
The usuals have their small talk, and it’s a welcome distraction from the stress I’ve been carrying from the ranch.
I work quickly, filling orders and handing out coffees to regulars, and I can anticipate what they need before they even need it.
A familiar figure steps up to the counter.
His dark brown cowboy hat and sunglasses don’t hide who he is or what effect he has on me.
The lazy smile he gives me shoots straight to my core, and my traitorous body responds, and I hate that, too.
“Mornin’, Wilder,” he says innocently with a slow grin. “Did you miss me?”
“No. I’ve already had enough of you for one day.” I groan and look up at the ceiling, pretending to be bored. “What do you want, Jessop?”
“Coffee. You know how I like it. Black, just like your soul.”
I glare at him and try to deny the thrill that sears through my body when he’s in my space. “I see you’re still following me, Jessop. You know, that’s called stalking.”
“Just here for coffee, Wilder.” He leans back and gives me a grin .
“Pumpkin spice latte, coming right up,” I say sweetly, with a deliberate lack of enthusiasm and disregard to his order. I slide the cup of black coffee I already poured across the counter, my fingers brushing his for the briefest moment. A current passes through me, and I ignore it and look away.
“Thanks,” he says, his voice softening. “By the way, you’ve got quite the line forming.”
“No shit. Now, move so I can do my job,” I say dryly. But secretly, I don’t want him to go and I’m glad that he’s here.
He taps his card on the reader and stuffs cash in my tip jar. He steps to the side and chats with a few locals, sipping his coffee. His presence here is oddly comforting. Every so often, his gaze lands on me, sending a shock through my body.
It’s lunchtime, and I’m exhausted and sold out of every single bakery item.
And no one is offering any information on the film crew.
Apparently, nobody can be bought with a coffee or a scone.
Oh, well. I sink into the stool behind the counter and exhale a deep breath.
Jack is still out there, only now he’s perched on the tailgate of a local’s truck chatting.
I watch him, thankful that he can’t see me. He is the most exasperating person I’ve ever met.
He does seem different now. But being different doesn’t take away all the hurt he caused me years ago.
Shaking my head, I turn back to the counter and focus on cleaning up. I don’t have time for distractions. I’m about to lose everything.
I brew some nighttime tea and glance around at my kitchen, a mess with baking supplies.
I’m baking my treats for tomorrow, but what I really want to do is crawl under my cozy blanket on the couch and take a nap.
I know I won’t stop until I have everything baked, cooled, and the kitchen spotless again, so I get to work, and time passes before I remember I still have other things to take care of around the ranch.
I sigh when I remember that I still need to go out and knock out the chores.
I hear a noise, and when I open the back door, I find Love. However, there’s also a shadow of a figure sitting on one of my chairs. Panic settles deep inside as I reach for my knife, which is on a magnet next to my stove, while flipping on the light.
“Ollie! You scared the shit out of me!” I hold my hand to my chest, and he sits up in his chair.
“You can put the knife down,” he says, as he eyes me like I’m a crazy person.
“You know you can just come in the front door like a normal person. Not creep around on the back porch,” I scoff, still trying to bring my breathing down.
“I was watching the sunset with your dog,” he says as he affectionately pets Love.
“I see that,” I say as I reach into my apron pocket and turn off my phone alarm for the oven timer.
“Smells good in there. Whatcha got?” he asks with a grin.
“Come have your pick,” I say as I hold the door open.
He shuffles in, not having to be told twice, opens the fridge, pulls out a beer, twists it open, and takes a long swig.
“I thought you were on duty?” I ask as I pull the pan out of the oven, slide the next one in, and set my alarm.
“I was, but we have a new guy doing some training, so I got off tonight at the last minute,” he says as he surveys my baked treats and chooses a blueberry crumble muffin.
“Did you eat dinner?” I ask as I realize I haven’t even stopped myself to eat tonight. Something I usually forget to do. Sometimes I get in the zone baking and then want to eat everything like a little gremlin .
“Not since lunch. I’m starving,” he admits as he reaches for a second muffin.
I pull out a pot, fill it with water, and set it on the stove. “I’ll make us some pasta,” I say.
“Sounds good.”
“You never answered my question. What are you doing here?” I ask as I reach for one of my home-canned jars of pasta sauce that I made last winter from my garden.
“You know why I’m here,” he says dryly as he gives me a look full of concern.
“Jessop is such a snitch,” I add as I pull down a box of pasta from the cabinet.
“Granger is mean, Cami. I still can’t believe that you shot at him. You don’t think he won’t come back here and bring some of his other mean friends?” he asks as he sets his beer down and hands me a wooden spoon from the crock on the counter.
“I can handle myself. Love will warn me if someone is here. I have protection,” I tell him, trying to not only convince him but myself, too.
“Oh, right. Like she let you know that I was on your back porch for fifteen minutes before you noticed me?” he deadpans.
He’s not wrong. I know that I’m in over my head right now.
The truth is, I haven’t been sleeping. Every little sound keeps me up, and I hate it.
I hate the fear that I have in this place.
The nightmares have been even worse. Last week, when I finally fell asleep, I had a nightmare that someone set my house on fire while I was in it.
I woke up and had to go out to the barn and sleep in the stall with Mouse.
Finding Jack out there was a relief, but I can’t tell either of them that.
Ollie’s face softens, he sees through my bullshit. “Cami.”
“I’m fine,” I say softly, turning to the stove, trying to be busy so he won’t see me upset.
“Come here,” he orders .
I turn and sigh, heading toward him as he wraps his arms around me in a big hug. “Was that so hard?”
“Yeah,” I sniff.
“It’s hard being a badass, isn’t it?” he teases as he pulls back and stares at me.
I give him a light shove and turn back to the stove to check the boiling water.
“I take it it’s your turn to sleep over and babysit me?” I ask as I glance over at him.
“You would be correct,” he grins as he reaches for a Monster Cookie.
Bummer. I kind of liked finding Jack in the barn.
“I’m cooking dinner, don’t spoil your appetite,” I tease.
“I’m so hungry that I could eat a horse,” he admits.
“Then you’re definitely not sleeping in the barn with Mouse,” I tease as I dump in the pasta.
“Hell no, I’m not sleeping in the barn. I’m not an animal. I still have a room here,” he says as he gives me a look.
“Yeah, but no bed. Mom sold it,” I remind him as he rolls his eyes. We’re both over our mom’s crap.
“I heard Jack sleeps in the barn,” he smirks as he grabs the Parmesan cheese. “Why doesn’t he just stay in the house with you?”
I glare at him. “Because he’s not invited. And he stole my dog, too. He’s a jerk.”
I turn, and he’s smiling at me as he says, “Oh, yeah?”
I groan. “Not you, too. Why does everyone give me shit when it comes to Jack?”
“You know why, Cami,” he says with a grin.
I do know why. But I’m an expert at pretending that I don’t.