Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
CRAZY PLAN
“Thanks for the invitation, but I am beat after everything that’s happened today. Do you mind if we just drive through so we can get back on the road?”
He swallows and turns his gaze to the gear shifter. “Of course, I totally understand. No problem.”
I can’t fathom why Cameron would be interested in spending more time with me after the world’s most awkward car ride, but I am a thousand percent sure that I made the right decision by declining.
My sole purpose for this trip is to try out Monika’s theory that I can break my curse by not letting it hold me back anymore, and to fight to be a part of my nephew’s life.
Romance of any sort is the absolute last thing on my mind. Especially since last week was uneventful and today’s hijinks have been mostly harmless and only targeted me. I am starting to feel hopeful that this crazy plan might be working.
When we make it to the speaker to order, a man’s voice greets us and names off the specials, including a drink called a chocolate-covered strawberry latte.
“Oh, that sounds heavenly,” I say, momentarily distracted from studying the list of more basic coffee drinks.
“It is,” Cameron says to me over his shoulder, then turns back to the speaker. “One chocolate-covered strawberry latte and an iced Americano, please.”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t—” I start, but the barista’s voice overpowers mine through the speaker.
“Cameron, is that you?”
“Hey, Marcus,” Cameron says, with a touch of sheepishness.
“What are you doing in the drive-through?”
“I am just passing through. I’ll stop in next time, I promise.”
“You better,” Marcus says. “I’ll see you at the window.”
Their exchange makes me wonder if I misread his signals just a minute ago. Maybe he wanted to go inside to see his friends, and it had nothing to do with spending more time with me.
Cameron pulls forward before I have the chance to correct my order to a plain mocha latte, but it feels rude to keep him from seeing his friends and asking them to remake my drink at the window, so I keep quiet.
When we pull up, Marcus is wearing a name tag and a black long-sleeve shirt with Eagle Lake Coffee Co.
printed across the chest. He greets us both, then gives Cameron the side eye when he tries to hand over his credit card.
Cameron concedes and tucks the card back in his wallet. “How’s business been?”
“Really busy. You came at a good time.” He leans out the window to hand over our drinks. “And you’re lucky, because today is the last day we are serving the chocolate-covered strawberry latte. It’s been a hit, but it takes too long to make when we get slammed.”
I smile at the fact that Marcus is the first person to ever associate me with the word lucky, as he and Cameron launch into a debate about switching to hazelnut syrup in place of the Nutella hearts to speed up the process.
“Nah, the hearts are a big part of the draw,” Marcus argues. “I don’t think the syrup would cut it.”
They both defer to me as I survey the layer of chocolate-sweetened espresso topped with strawberry milk, surrounded by carefully drawn Nutella hearts on the sides of the plastic cup. “I think I’m with Marcus on this one,” I admit.
He nods his approval. “We’re thinking that we’ll make it a Valentine’s Day special, and we want to create something new for spring that is less time intensive.”
“I can’t wait to see what you come up with,” Cameron says while glancing in the rear-view mirror. “We’ll let you get back to work. Thanks for the drinks.”
“Of course. Come inside next time, and we’ll have you sample a couple of other things that we’re trying out.”
“I will.”
I wave to Marcus as we pull away, then take a sip of my drink.
“Oh my gosh!” I practically yell at the exact same moment that Cameron’s car moves out from under the awning and is pelted by heavy rainfall.
He slams on the brakes so hard that we both jerk forward.
“Sorry!” I use my free hand to brace on the dashboard to keep from smacking my head on it.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I hold up the drink. “This is incredible.”
He looks at it, then at me, and visibly relaxes. “You like it?”
I nod and immediately go back for another sip. The drink lights up every pleasure receptor in my brain like a tree on Christmas morning. “I love it. I think it’s the best thing I have ever tasted in my entire life.”
Cameron beams and takes a sip of his own coffee before putting it in the cupholder. “And to think, you almost settled for Dunkin’ Donuts.”
We grin at each other, but this time he looks away first.
“I don’t know whether to thank you or be mad at you for introducing me to this, since I’ll never be able to have it again.”
He shrugs. “I guess you’ll just have to come back for another visit, then.”
With that, the tension from before melts away, allowing us to settle back into easy conversation, with just enough of the flirty banter from earlier to make it fun. The last ten minutes of the drive to the retreat go by quickly, and too soon we are turning off the road and onto a private street.
“The house is just up ahead.”
The estates become bigger and more spread apart the further we go.
At the end of the cul-de-sac, Cameron pulls up to an iron gate with a call box.
Thankfully, the gate swings open upon our approach, so Cameron doesn’t have to roll down his window for them to buzz us in.
The rain is coming down harder now, and it would be a shame to get water on his leather interior.
After a short, winding drive down a paved road, the Ravenwood Manor, my home for the weekend, comes into view.
A massive wall of pure glass surrounds the oversized, oak front doors, displaying a winding staircase inside.
Two wings flank the grand entry, painted a modern, stately white with dark trim, and oversized windows mark each room.
The two-story estate glows golden like the flame from a candle against the dark woods that surround it.
“Drop me off at the front, please,” I say, and officially switch off Flirty Drew. She was fun while she lasted. “I’ll just run inside.”
Cameron nods and turns the wheel to enter the U-shaped driveway that leads to the front door. My heartbeat spikes as he puts the car in park, and I see one of the guests moving around within the house.
As soon as I step through that doorway to join them, I will need to become Epic Drew, the version of me who likes to have fun and is confident in her ability to leave this retreat at the end of the weekend to become a present sister and doting aunt.
I grip the chocolate-covered strawberry latte in my hand like a talisman, because Cursed Drew would never have ordered something so decadent, and exit the car to officially take the first step.
Here goes nothing.
Cameron gets out of the car with much more grace than I do, even though he is almost a foot taller than me and the car sits close to the ground.
I hurry to meet him at the “frunk,” but he already has my bag slung over his shoulder.
He gestures for me to go first and follows close behind as our feet splash through the puddles that have accumulated on the concrete.
We huddle together under the porch to escape the downpour, closer than necessary considering how much space there is. I can feel his eyes on me as I slip back into Flirty Drew and take a moment to appreciate how the rain makes his shirt cling even tighter to his strong arms.
“Drew,” he says, after my moment of appreciation lingers a bit longer than I planned. With the way his tone has shifted, though, it feels more like the attraction is mutual than he’s growing impatient for me to finish gawking.
I shake my head at the thought. We are complete strangers, and he’s a hunk-for-hire, but the Dramamine hangover is making me think crazy thoughts like wondering how it would feel to run my hands along the ridges of his broad shoulders.
“I’d better get inside,” I say reluctantly, and hold up my latte. “Thank you so much for the coffee and the ride.”
Cameron takes a step closer and leans in as I am about to knock on the door.
I freeze as my brain volleys back and forth between trying to decide if I should push up on my tiptoes to close the distance or put my hand on his chest to stop him.
Just as I make my choice, Cameron turns the doorknob and pushes the front door open, revealing a grand foyer on the other side.
“Anytime,” he says as he raises his arm to gesture for me to go inside, and then shocks me further by saying, “After you.”
I reel at the fact that I was convinced that he was leaning in to kiss me but instead was just rudely opening the door to a stranger’s home without so much as a knock.
The blush returns to my cheeks when a woman who looks to be in her early twenties with wavy ice-blonde hair cut to her shoulders turns in surprise at our unceremonious entry.
She says a few words into the phone that she has up to her ear, then hangs up and walks towards us, the wide legs of her olive-green trousers flowing with every step.
“Hey, you must be Drew. I’m Delaney, your host for the weekend.
” She smiles kindly at me and pulls me in for a brief hug, then slides her gaze to the man standing behind me.
“And I see that you’ve already met Cameron, the homeowner.
He’s going to be around for the weekend, too, which is a special treat.
” Her bubbly voice does not waver, but her smile does not quite reach her eyes.
I look back at Cameron in astonishment. Is he a hunk-for-hire and the homeowner? Or just the homeowner, and I just acted like a complete fool the entire ride over under a false assumption?
“You won’t even know I’m here,” he says, then steps forward to deposit my bag on the marble floor. “I’m going to park the car in the garage, and then I’ll run this up to your room for you.”
“I’ve got it,” Delaney says, stepping forward and pulling my bag onto her shoulder.
She teeters a bit on her stilettos while trying to adjust to the weight of it and shoots me another dazzling smile.
“The other women are in the living room. I’ll take care of this, and then I’ll be right back down to introduce you to everyone. ”
The sound of Delaney’s heels on the stairs gets fainter with each step, until Cameron and I are once again alone in the foyer.
I consider asking him right then and there if my assumption that he was a hired driver is true, but something in my gut tells me not to, because it would just be even more embarrassing to admit that out loud if I was wrong.
“The kitchen is through here, and to the left, if you want to get a snack first,” he says, pointing through the foyer, and just before he steps back out into the rain, he turns back to me with another stunning smile and adds, “I hope that we’ll run into each other again sometime this weekend, Drew. ”