I chuckle.Damn, can she be any more adorable?“Afraid so. I prefer casual attire when I’m home improvement shopping.”
“Are you suggesting I’m overdressed?” She teases as she spreads her arms out and looks down at her clothes. She’s wearing another soft pale pink sweater with dark grey dress pants. Add a matching suit jacket, and she’d be ready to conquer Corporate America.
“Not at all.” I can’t stop my eyes from roaming down her body. I love how she dresses. It suits her. It’s Camille, and I can’t imagine seeing her any other way. Except for maybe naked.
To be honest, I’m not sure Camille does casualwear. Every time I’ve met her, she’s dressed in a nice blouse or sweater and dress pants. I guess I’ll find out if she has an at-home casual once we start the remodel. I’ll get to find out soon enough. Maybe she’ll even get comfortable enough with me to open up, let me in.
“I’m just stating my preference.” I add.
Once outside, I lead the way to my truck. I open the door and help her in. She’s not short, but my truck is huge, and she still requires a boost to get in. As she slides into the seat, I catch a glimpse of the necklace around her neck. It’s a simple silver chain, but the three rings on it are anything but simple. One is a plain silver or platinum band sized for a man, but the other two are adorned with diamonds—a band of diamonds around one and a single solitaire round cut diamond in the other set in an antique setting with diamonds surrounding it.
She catches me staring at it and quickly shoves it under her sweater.
I shut her door once she’s situated. There’s only one reason I can think of as to why she’d be wearing wedding rings around her neck. And it’s not good.
I slip behind the driver seat, unable to look in her direction. I don’t want her to see the war of emotions currently playing out in my head. I can’t hide my emotions and she doesn’t need mine on top of her own.
The truck roars to life when I turn the key and we head off in silence. It’s awkward and tense and I hate it.
I have so many questions I want to ask her, but I need to proceed with caution. Especially after seeing those rings around her neck.
“It’s okay, Adam.” Her soft voice draws my eyes toward her. Her eyes are glassy, and the sadness I’d seen before is back. I hate the damn sadness. I need to see her smile. “You can ask me about it.”
I clear my throat. My emotions betray me every single time. My mind has been reeling with questions since the day I met her. Why would a woman like her move all the way across the country alone? Is she running, hiding, or something else? I suspect it’s a combination of all those things, but how can I ask her any of that without sounding like a prying asshole?
“I don’t want to pry,” I finally say.
She lets out a long, deep breath. With her eyes trained on the windshield, she speaks. “My husband died two years ago in a car accident. The past two years have been the worst years of my life. I’ve struggled with just about everything—socializing, sleep, work. I needed a change. It was too hard to move past this loss when I was constantly surrounded by memories of him, and …” She pauses, a slight crack in her voice. “Please don’t judge me for my decision to move here. I need this. More than you could ever possibly know.”
I reach over and squeeze her hand. It’s instinctual, an act of comfort. But she tenses, so I let go. “I’m not judging you, Camille, only curious. That’s all.”
She nods but remains silent. The tenseness in her jaw suggests she’s struggling to maintain control of her own emotions. The tension in my truck right now is so heavy, I feel like we’re being crushed. If she breaks down on me, I’ll want to pull over and take her into my arms.
But she’s not ready for that level of intimacy. Not even as a friend.
I adjust my position in my seat and school my thoughts before I continue. “I’m sorry. I understand loss. Not like that, but I get it. I can’t imagine how hard it's been for you.”
She shifts her gaze toward me, and our eyes meet for a moment. She smiles, but the sadness remains. “Thank you. My family and friends have been hard on me. I assume everyone else will be, too. My move is a sore subject back home.”
I shake my head in disbelief. If I hadn’t had the support of my friends and family when Irene left me, I don’t think I would’ve survived. Family is everything. My life would be empty without them. Even if they didn’t like a decision I made, they’d support me. “Well, Watercress Falls is your home now, and we support each other and treat everyone like family. No matter how long you’ve lived here, you can count on everyone taking you in.”
She chuckles and it warms my heart. “I can see that in the few people I’ve already met. They’ve been more than welcoming.”
“Stick with me, and I’ll introduce you to everyone else.”
“Everyone, huh?”
“Yep. My family owns one of the founding ranches. We know most folks in the area. Or at least my momma does.”
“Really?” The bright, cheerful demeanor of the woman I first met returns, and she seems happy to continue down this line of conversation. “Which ranch?”
“Rush Creek.” Anyone who knows anything about Watercress Falls has heard of Rush Creek Ranch. My ancestors were the first to settle this area and call it home. At least one member of my family has served as a town commissioner since its incorporation—a tradition that’s likely never to change.
“Not just any ranch.Theranch.” Camille’s smile grows. “I’m in the presence of a local celebrity.”
“Hardly.” That gets a good laugh out of me. It’s true, though, that locals put a high value on my family and our involvement in any events or decisions. But celebrity status is taking it a bit far.
“That means Rosie Langdon is your mother.”
