He takes off his gloves and slaps the side of the trailer with them, shaking his head. “I thought it was weird that you and Campbell were working real well together when you could hardly tolerate her.”
I didn’t know her. “We get along just fine.”
He snorts. “With your clothes off.”
We didn’t need to be naked last night. But all those times talking with her, in the dark, in the barn, and eating together, I was stripped down more than I’ve ever been. “It’s just until the wedding’s done. Then we’re going to concentrate on our work.”
“What about work do you need to concentrate on?”
“Getting taken seriously.”
“We do take you seriously.”
“No, you and Lane take the bottom line seriously, but this whole endeavor was to push the limits of spirits. Right now, we’re pushing mediocre.”
His brows shoot up. “Damn, Durban. Tell me how you really feel.”
“We need to really unleash our abilities, and then we need to show them off. We need to enter more contests, win awards, and create buzz. We need to make the bottles that sell at estate auctions for thousands because that would mean our reputation is that well known and respected.”
Iverson doesn’t immediately respond. He swats his gloves against the trailer a few times. “We’re working onRafting and Tasting. Then there’s the street fair in Billings.”
And Bozeman and Helena. “We need more. We need to expand.”
He slides his gloves back on. “Maybe you could talk to that event planner you’re sneaking around with and see if she has any more ideas.”
“I will.” Relieved my interrogation didn’t last long and he didn’t berate me for fucking his sister-in-law, I push off the tailgate of the trailer and walk around to the driver’s side. Time to get this day going. Excitement’s starting to build at the thought of discussing another project to work on with Campbell. It means working together more after the wedding. It means watching her blossom and thrive.
“Durban?”
The hesitant expression on my brother’s face isn’t one I’ve seen before. He’s the guy we go to for everything. Our leader, and not just because he’s the oldest. Because he’s always taken care of us. “Yeah?”
“Relationships . . . can be . . . more.”
“What are you talking about?”
He doesn’t get into the side-by-side but continues to shift uncomfortably. “It means, fuck, I don’t know. You waited for Natalie for years, and she only tossed scraps to you, and now you’re limiting what you could have with Campbell to the wedding.”
“That’s all we’ve talked about,” I say stubbornly, embarrassment coagulating in my chest. She hasn’t said she wants more with me. “We have an agreement, and I’m not adding to her stress.”
“You want more though.”
“It’s only been a couple of weeks.”
“You stayed loyal to Natalie for years after only a few months.”
A blob in my chest starts to pulsate. “Exactly. I’m not making that mistake again.” I start the engine, and it whirs to life. I’m done with this conversation.
Iverson doesn’t move. “You weren’t the one that made the mistake.”
I stare ahead, fighting off a case of heartburn that feels a lot like yearning. I did make a mistake—with Natalie and, worse, when I judged Campbell. Add in the mess of a relationship Campbell just got out of, and she’ll probably want to be left alone after the wedding. If she does keep me around, it’d be for the orgasms. As much as I could lose myself in her forever, sex isn’t enough. Waiting on her for years wouldn’t be enough.
I want all of Campbell, and I’m too much of a pussy to ask her if she wants the same. “Campbell and I think each other is fine for a good time, and neither of us has expressed wanting more. It’s as simple as that.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Campbell
I’m in the meeting room, which has become my makeshift office during the final days of this event. It’s also functioning as storage for the decorations that’ll go in the pavilion tomorrow. I’ve had sketches and diagrams sent to the staff. My notes with Chef have been triple-checked.
