“I told you, it was the rental.”
“Margo is still ignoring me for your damn project, which means I have all the time in the world right now. So I can keep asking you questions until you eventually stop dodging them, or you could just answer me now, and we don’t have to keep going back and forth.”
My finger and thumb pinch the bridge of my nose. Screw him and the fact he can read me like an open book. “Do you remember when we first all came to Sutten?”
“You mean the time I got married there? Yeah, you could say I still remember it.”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re a dick?”
Beck laughs on the other line. “Takes one to know one. Keep going. But yes, I do, in fact, remember my wedding, thank you for asking.”
“Well, remember when someone spilled beer all over me at the stupid tourist bar?”
“Yes.”
“And remember when your dessert caterer ran into me and spilled cupcakes all over me?”
“I do remember hearing about that, yes.”
“Turns out the woman in both those scenarios owns the neighboring business to mine. She owns the cafe next to the gallery.”
“And you’re seeing her? I swore I remembered Margo saying how much of an asshole you were to her.”
I swallow because I do regret how awful I was to Pippa. Looking back, I don’t know what my problem was, but I definitely wasn’t kind to her. It’s a miracle she still wants to speak to me—is allowing me to take her on a date. “Yeah, I was,” I finally answer, remembering Beck waiting on the other line.
“I’ve got to know more about how this happened.”
So for the next ten minutes, I relay everything to Beck like a couple of gossiping teenagers. He asks questions the entire time, seemingly interested in the story of me and Pippa.
At the end of it, Beck lets out a long whistle. “Damn. Never did I think I’d see the day where this happened. Your crush is cute.”
If he was here in person, I’d flip him off. I do it regardless, even though he can’t see me. I lean back in my office chair, staring up at the white ceiling. Even after filling Beck in on everything and talking about it out loud, I have no idea what to call what’s happening.
“Fuck off, man. I’m a grown adult. I don’t have a crush. I don’t know what it is, but I can’t get her out of my mind.”
“They’re called feelings, Camden. Have fun with them.”
I grunt. I don’t want to have feelings for Pippa, but I don’t not want to have feelings for her either. It’s a terrible situation. One I can’t wrap my mind around.
“I’m going to take her on our first real date tonight,” I blurt. God, I really am a little lovesick teenager. Now I’m talking about first dates at almost forty years old. This woman is too far in my head—my skin—my everything.
“Please tell me you have something romantic planned.”
“She’s planning it, actually.”
Beck lets out a disappointed sigh. “You’re making her plan the date? What the hell, man.”
“She loves this town and all the little local secrets about it. I wouldn’t know where to start here when planning a nice date. So yeah, asshole, I told her she could pick where, and she seemed very excited about it, thank you very much.”
“If you say so.” He laughs, managing to irritate me more.
“I actually don’t remember asking your opinion.”
“What a shame for you, then, because I’m still going to give it to you.”
“Not if I hang up on you.” I spin a pen in my hand, needing something to do with my hands. I’m getting anxious because the only thing I really want to do is forget about everything I need to do today and give Pippa a visit next door.
“All jokes aside, I’m happy for you. Maybe you’ve always needed someone who will talk back to you and isn’t scared of you. I hope things work out between the two of you.” He laughs again. The asshole needs to stop finding my life so comical. “I can’t quite picture you settling down in Sutten, though. Are you going to get yourself a nice pair of cowboy boots? Finally ride that bull at that damn bar?”
“Oh, fuck off. We haven’t been on a date yet. No one’s talked about moving.”
“Mhm,” he hums, clearly not believing a word I’m saying. “Anyway. Care to hear my next idea?”
Beck gives me a welcome distraction by laying out the logistics for a new idea he has. It isn’t terrible. Not like any of his ideas are really ever bad. I hate to admit it, but he’s too smart for his own good.
He manages to distract me for almost an hour before we hang up and I’m left alone with my thoughts again. My fingers twitch at my sides as I stare at my computer screen. I’m supposed to be going through the portfolio of a new talent Leo found, but I’m not in the mood. Instead, my fingers itch to get dirty. I want to get them covered in clay. To feel the weight of a carving tool in my palm. I have a few bases ready to go at my Manhattan studio, but that’s too far away. I’d never thought I’d be here long enough to need supplies.
But now, I’d do anything to have everything here to get lost in making some art. That might be the one thing that’d keep my mind from Pippa.
I’m not so lucky. But I do get a reprieve from Trisha calling me, wanting to discuss the monthly budget.
36
PIPPA
Rosemary needs to leave. We’re supposed to be closing in ten minutes, and she’s sitting at a table with a basket of knitting supplies in front of her, gossiping about everything that’s been happening in Sutten.
Normally, I love it when she comes in and talks with me while I close the cafe. She’s hilarious, and I love to get the inside scoop on who I went to high school with, about my parents’ friends, and everything else. I’m not too proud to admit that I’m an extremely nosy person. It’s not my fault I feel the need to know everything about everyone at any given time.
I like gossip. Sue me.
It’s just really unfortunate timing that she chose today of all freaking days to plant her butt in one of the chairs, expecting to stay well after closing.
“I heard that Timothy and Marietta are getting a divorce,” Rosemary comments, staring at the knitting needles in her hand. She’s working on some hideous sweater for one of her grandchildren—not that I’d ever tell her the mustard yellow with neon green stripes is horrid. If she asks, I’ll tell her it’s the most beautiful sweater in the world.
“I don’t believe that,” I reply anxiously, wiping down the front counter for the third time. Everything is ready for Camden to come by—except the fact that Rosemary is lingering.
Even her coffee sits only half drunk in front of her. I don’t know how she drinks coffee this late and still manages to sleep, but it’s none of my business. She can do whatever she wants as long as she pours that coffee in a to-go cup and skedaddles.
“I heard it on very good authority that they were. Apparently, she had an affair with someone from out of town.” Rosemary’s good authority is useless. I love Sutten. I love living in a small town. But the rumors can get out of hand quickly.
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” I answer, my eyes looking toward the door. Any moment, Camden could walk through them.
Talking about rumors flying, if Rosemary sees him come in here, then Camden and I will be outed to this entire town before we even get the chance to start our first date.
I don’t really mind if people know. But I don’t want them asking questions because I can’t give any answers. Camden and I aren’t boyfriend and girlfriend. But we aren’t enemies anymore either. We never were really friends. Where does that leave us? I’d like to figure it out before Rosemary blabs about it to every single person in this town.
“How’s your brother doing? He still sulking about our sweet Marigold being in Chicago?”
I nod while wiping down the espresso machine. “Oh, that I can actually answer on good authority. He’s a mess.”