22. Cami
Cami
Don’t Mind If I do by Ella Langley, Riley Green
“ S o, I talked to Jack about hate sex.”
Poppy blinks. “Like... talked talked? Or banged talked?”
“Talked. Joked about it.” I roll my eyes and laugh. “He choked on air. It was adorable.”
Poppy cackles from the corner of her shop, where we’re currently sprawled out with root beer floats from the Drug Store and an open bag of pretzels between us. The scent of engine oil and cinnamon-sugar pretzels fill the room. Her auto shop is my favorite chaotic safe space.
“Wait, what exactly did you say?” she asks, leaning forward, eager to hear the details.
“I may have mentioned that I have been taking care of myself.”
Her eyes widen. “And he didn't bang you right on the spot?”
“Nope, not at all,” I shrug. “He went full deer-in-headlights. I thought he was gonna short-circuit and sputter out like a weirdly hot tractor.”
“He is a weirdly hot tractor,” Poppy says, sipping her drink. “With emotional baggage in the trailer bed.”
“Facts.”
Just then, the front bell jingles, and Violet breezes in with a bakery bag in one hand and mischief in her eyes. “Okay, what did I miss?”
I grin as I hand her a root beer float. “I traumatized Jack with a conversation about hate sex.”
“ Oh, this I need details on.”
She plops down beside us, handing out mini pumpkin donuts like the giving queen that she is, and gave me her full attention.
“So, I’m lying there, under our aspen tree?—”
“ Your tree? The one you guys played in as kids?” Poppy swoons, "How romantic."
“ The tree, yes, and I casually mentioned to Jack that Poppy and I were talking about hate sex.”
Violet nearly drops her donut. “Please tell me you hate banged at the end?”
“Obviously, no. But also… he looked so confused. Like he didn’t know whether to be turned on or offended.”
Poppy laughs so hard she snorts. "That man was turned on, trust me."
“And then,” I continue, “I implied I’d wanted to hate-hook-up with him, and he just sort of… stared at me like I was a cyborg or something.”
Violet leans back, hands clasped. “God, you two are exhausting. In a soulmates-who-don’t-know-it-yet way.”
I roll my eyes. “He practically turned me down. Like—he wasn't even interested in fucking me.”
“Oh, Jack is very interested,” Violet says, sipping her root beer like its wine. “He’s had a lot thrown at him lately. He’s emotionally constipated.”
“Okay, but same, ” I mutter. “Like, join the club.”
“I don’t think he hates you at all, Cami,” Violet says, eyes soft. “I think you’re his whole plan, and he just doesn’t know how to tell you.”
Poppy nods. “You two are endgame. Can’t you see it?”
I sigh and pick at my donut. “Yeah, but he’s got all this pressure with the show, the ranch, his dad’s mess... I think he’s trying to wait for the ‘right moment.’”
“Well, that’s dumb,” Poppy says. “There’s never a right moment. There’s just hot moments and missed chances.”
"Well, he definitely had his chance," I say dryly. “Many chances. He’s blown them all.”
“Maybe let him blow something else.” Violet leans in with a smirk. “So, what’s your plan?”
I snort and shake my head at her innuendo. “Guess I’ll go back to giving him hell. It’s fun. And at least when I make him mad, he gets all tense and growly, which makes me so hot.”
Poppy grinned. “Speaking of which, want to spy on his date at Harvest & Honey?”
My head snaps up. “He has a date? When?"
“Tonight,” Violet says, as she glances at her watch. “It’s one of those ‘reconnect with the final contestants’ things for the show. Supposed to be romantic and rustic. Jenna told me about it.”
“Oh, let’s go see how it’s going,” I say, trying to play it cool. “Let’s watch Jack act like our very own Bridger Falls Cassanova.”
“Wait, we’re really doing this?” Poppy asks, laughing. “You’re oddly calm about this.” She stops laughing and glances at Violet, concern sweeping over her face .
“Okay, fine. I’m not calm. I’m absolutely feral. Happy? Let’s go,” I say as I grab my hoodie.
“Oh, we’re doing this.”
"I think she definitely wants Jack..." Violet mutters as she grabs her drink and follows us. “And she’s the best out of all of them.”
"Hold up! I have disguises!" Poppy says excitedly.
So, I'll admit we are three grown women dressed in all black, oversized sunglasses, and varying levels of hats through the hedges behind Bridger Falls’ restaurant like discount Charlie’s Angels.
I’m parked on a park bench, Violet has commandeered a to-go menu as a disguise and sits next to me, and Poppy pretends to tie her shoe for the third time while glancing around.
The only problem is, she's wearing boots that don't tie. We are terrible spies. And I’m hungry. I’d never make it in a stakeout.
“This is the best idea we’ve ever had,” Violet whispers.
“Disagree,” I whisper back. “That night we almost got arrested for pie theft was the best idea we've ever had.”
Violet grins. "At least we got pie out of that one. That night was delicious. I should have brought Mack. She would have so much fun with this. And she would have thought to bring food."
"Where is she?" I ask.
"With Maggie at the farm," Violet whispers back.
"Why are we whispering?" I ask.
“I have grease on my hoodie,” Poppy mutters. “We are not meant for espionage. Everyone can tell who we are."
“There,” I hiss, pointing toward the patio. “That’s their table.”
Jack sits across from Elena, who is gorgeous and poised .
He looks… fine. Handsome. Relaxed. His shirt is rolled to the elbows, one hand wrapped around a glass of water, the other resting on the back of his chair.
But his shoulders aren’t as loose as usual. And every time she says something, he kind of smiles and looks past her, like he’s trying really hard to be polite.
“He’s not into her,” Violet says.
“Nope,” I agree. “Look at his eyes. They’re not focused on her. Like he’s thinking about his taxes.”
And I really like Elena. She’s really fun to talk to, and I get her sarcastic humor. It is still weird though to watch Jack on a date with someone else, even if I know that it’s not technically real. My brain knows it, but my heart hates it.
Poppy snorts. “Or hate sex.”
“Shut up,” I hiss, laughing into my sleeve.
And then?—
“Are you guys seriously spying right now?”
We whip around to find Jenna, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised so high it nearly disappeared into her hairline.
“I—uh—” I flail, caught mid-sentence. “We’re... birdwatching.”
"What kind of birds?" Jenna questions, hands on her hips.
"Um...black birds," I say quickly.
She gives me a dry look. “You’re staring at my brother like he’s an endangered species.”
“Well,” Poppy says, shrugging, “emotionally available cowboys are rare.”
Jenna laughs and joins us. “You’re all insane.”
She peers over our shoulders. “Oof. He’s not even pretending to flirt like I told him to.”
I take in how good he looks, and how he looks uncomfortable but he’s trying not to show it.
He’s a gentleman, and he doesn’t want one of the contestants to have a bad time.
He cares about all of them. That’s obvious and mostly because Jack is a good guy deep down.
Nobody can tell me different. They don’t make ‘em as good as Jack Jessop, that’s for sure.
A feeling fills me that I can’t place right away, and it feels like sadness, or longing when I realize I’ve never really had a sit-down meal with Jack intentionally in the years I’ve known him.
Sure, I’ve sat down at the bar by him, but we haven’t ever had time together like that.
I have never seen him in candlelight. I want this.
I want Jack to look at me over candlelight.
It sounds simple and possibly silly, but that’s what I want.
All the moments with Jack. I am a strong and independent woman.
But I want to feel safe with Jack, a man like him who would move heaven and earth to be by my side.
That’s what I want. I want all the small things with him.
“What?” I try to say with surprise. “He looks like he's having a great time.”
“You know he saw you the second you walked up,” Jenna says dryly.
“What?” I twirl my hair around my finger. "We're just hanging out in town. That's not a crime."
“Girl. He’s been glancing this way every thirty seconds, like he’s hoping you’ll rescue him.”
My heart skips a beat.
I mutter. "Why would I rescue him? He looks like he's just fine ."
“No, he doesn’t,” Poppy and Violet said at the same time.
And then it happens.
Jack stands up to pull Elena’s chair back as she gets up for something.
Maybe the bathroom? Hopefully leaving?His eyes immediately scan the patio and land on me.
He definitely sees me.Not in the “maybe” he saw me kind of way.
In the locked-eyes, slow-burn, you-are-so-busted kind of way. His brow lifts .
I duck down on the bench like a total coward.“Abort mission,” I hiss. “We’ve been compromised.”
It's too late.I hear his boots coming toward me. I peek through the slats and feel dizzy.
There he stands, hands on his hips inall his denim, sun-kissed, slightly irritated glory.
“Well,” he says, crossing his arms. “Subtle.”
Violet stands up, brushing off her jeans. “We’re just supporting local businesses. That's not a crime.”
Poppy nods as she holds up a jar of pickles she picked up from the farmers’ market going on down the street. “Huge fans of artisan pickles.”
Jack looks at me and gives me a slow and sexy grin that makes my panties practically melt. “You dragged them to spy with you? And nice disguises," he adds.
“I didn’t drag, ” I say, standing. “They came willingly.”
“To spy on me?” he smirks, clearly enjoying trying to make me squirm.
“No. I was casually observing the enemy.”
He tilts his head, his lips twitching. “And how's it going?”
I huff. “Mediocre date. She told me this week at the coffee trailer that breakfast food is unnecessary.”
“You’re friends with her. She told me.” He blinks. “And you once cried over a pancake.”
“Because I wanted one, Jack.”