She stuffs a thumb over her shoulder. “I have to pick up an order for the ranch tomorrow, but I hear Elodie’s going to be featuring some Foster House items?”
Lane nods. “Soon there’ll be whiskey frosting, cupcakes filled with gin custard, and a vodka glaze forsweet breads. We’re collaborating for the street fair in Billings next month too.”
“If we need a kickoff event,” I say, “we’ll let you know.” I’ll make sure of it. I know she threw out the idea of a special product for the Rafting and Tasting event just for me.
Her gaze warms and a blush stains her cheeks. “I’d appreciate it.”
“Yeah, actually.” Lane folds his hands together. “That’s a good idea. A launch event. When you and Elodie are both free, give us a call.”
The delight playing across Campbell’s face makes my whole damn day. “You really mean that?” she asks.
“As long as Elodie’s on board.” Lane glances at all of us. Cruz and Haven nod.
“I’m game,” Iverson says. “We’re supposed to be the fun and creative outlet for Foster House, so let’s do it.”
“Absolutely,” I say.
Campbell’s smile widens. “I’ll talk to Elodie and get back to you.”
I force myself to keep my gaze on the countertop when she walks away and not on the sway of her hips. Out of the corner of my eye, Cruz smirks and shoves half the cupcake in his mouth.
I ignore him too. Fucker.
Campbell
I’m sitting at a four-top table in Foster House’s tasting room, unraveling a row of crochet stitches on mydishcloth. It’s supposed to be a half double crochet stitch and not a double crochet, but I got too distracted by Edna’s conversation with her longtime friends and the dirty jokes they’re telling.
Edna cruises through each of her rows, barely glancing at her square to place a stitch. “Then the young, curvy nurse came out and said, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. He doesn’t haveswantattooed on his penis. It saysSaskatchewan!’”
The older ladies guffaw, and the one adult grandson present turns beet red, concentrating hard on his blanket. I frown for a moment and exchange a glance with an equally flummoxed Clem.
“Edna,” Haven says from behind the bar. “You’re going to traumatize me. Each one of you.”
Elodie covers her mouth and giggles. When she notices my and Clem’s confusion, her face turns scarlet and she intently focuses on the square she’s making.
Finally, the punch line dawns on me. Mostly because Edna’s talking about how her daughter heard that joke way too young, and then when she learned about puberty and erections, she shouted, “Oh, I get it! Saskatchewan!”
The ladies roar and I start to snicker.
“I can’t believe it took me that long,” Clem says. She’s not making a blanket or dishcloth like me. She brought a crochet kit and is working on an elephant’s leg. She peeks around. “Can I confess that my Friday nights are not as wild as this Monday evening?”
“Wild Friday nights are overrated.” Elodie says it in such a sage way that Clem and I wait for more.
When she doesn’t continue, I shrug. “I have to agree. My last rowdy Friday night, I got drunk and made a foolout of myself. I almost put myself in a dangerous situation too with some of Bryce’s seasonal workers.”
“That is not your fault,” Elodie says, her tone heated. “It’s those guys’ fault. I bet they thought they could take advantage of you. The fact is, drunk girls should be safe from all that and not blamed.”
Clem’s dark brows rise. Mine are probably just as high. “Totally agree,” I say, “but it scares me to think that I was too tipsy to read a lot of the signs. I think they thought they were helping protect me from Durban at first.”
Clem stalls, her mouth forming a troubled line. “Durban’s the kind of guy people cross the streettoward.”
Ain’t that the truth. “Yeah, but that’s because they want to be the ones to jump him.”
There’s no response. I look up.
Elodie’s biting her lip.
Clem screws her face up. “I feel like it’s wrong of me to agree with that, him being my boss and all.”
