“But seriously,” he said on a sobering breath. “Remember when I told you that I see things differently when I’m with you? I’ve gotten so immune to my father’s blustering and his control tactics over the years that I was oblivious to how everyone else saw him. I can brush him off when he insults me, but I hated the way he spoke to you. He was completely out of line and you didn’t deserve his condescension.”
Thankfully, Jordan didn’t make any excuses for his father, nor did he downplay the man’s pointed comments. Maybe he really was starting to understand what she would have to put up with if they ended up together.
Camilla sighed as she leaned back in the leather seat, watching the flickering colors whizzing by her window. The Thanksgiving dinner leftovers were barely put away, yet people were already stringing up their Christmas lights. She never understood how folks could so easily move on from one thing to the next.
It brought to mind Cornelius Taylor’s comment about Jordan chasing tail. Deep down, she knew that the older man’s goal wasn’t really to insult her. His goal was to get his son back under his thumb. She was just collateral damage.
But it didn’t make the insult hurt any less.
When they stopped at an intersection, Jordan lifted his hand and gently stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers until she turned to look at him. “I am really sorry for putting you through that. I’m especially sorry for dragging you away from your own family’s house and ruining your holiday.”
“You didn’t ruin my holiday, Jordan,” she said, her eyes blinking back a sudden threat of dampness. Admitting otherwise would be like admitting that his father had the power to hurt her, which would be like admitting that, deep down, she wanted the Taylors to accept her the way the Sanchezes had clearly accepted Jordan. So she forced a smile instead. “Although I’m pretty bummed that I missed out on the only good part of our Thanksgiving meal.”
“The after-dinner basketball game?” he asked.
“No, the pumpkin pie. Mrs. Waters can’t make a casserole to save her life, but her pie recipes are out of this world.”
Jordan laughed, then drove her back to the Sanchez house. Thankfully, most of her siblings had already gone back to their own places and she was able to sneak out of her parents’ kitchen with a prepacked bag of leftovers, half of a pecan pie—the pumpkin was long gone—and no questions about the drama at Taylor Ranch.
The adrenaline from her earlier encounter with Cornelius had drained just as quickly as it had spiked, leaving Camilla’s body depleted and her mind emotionally exhausted. She didn’t want to talk right that second or even eat. All she wanted was to spend the evening wrapped in the warmth of Jordan’s arms. By the time they reached her apartment, it was pretty much a foregone conclusion that he would be coming upstairs with her. At least, for her it was. She knew he would never push for it unless she asked.
Following her, he carried the bag of leftovers up the stairs. The pie tin was balanced in one of her uplifted palms as she used her free hand to unlock the door. While she was distracted, Jordan shot an arm around her waist and turned her toward him. “I’ve been waiting all day for this, and I don’t want to wait another minute.”
He kissed her gently, slowly building the pressure of his lips and skillful tongue until Camilla couldn’t have told him good-night even if she’d wanted to. So she did what any sane, red-blooded woman would do.
Still balancing the pie, she playfully slipped her hand down the front of his shirt until she got to his waistband. Then she grabbed the most accessible thing—his belt buckle—and pulled him inside her apartment so she could finish what he’d started.
* * *
Jordan stretched his arms over his head as he watched Camilla sleep curled up beside him in her bed. He could’ve stayed like this all morning, but the constant buzzing of his cell phone on the bedside table was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
Normally, he never bothered with the notifications from Taylor Beef’s marketing team, but he couldn’t disregard the three missed calls from Mac. Or her text message in all caps that said, CHECK OUT THE POST ON @AllThingsBronco.
Ugh. Mac knew Jordan hated those ridiculous social media accounts that were no better than the sleazy tabloids. He was about to set the phone down unanswered but another notification alert pinged on his phone, this time from Daphne. You better do something about this, Jor.
His chest rumbled with a groan, which made Camilla stir awake. She pressed her warm and very nude body closer to his before lifting her sleepy, sexy eyes to his face. He was more than tempted to toss the phone to the nearby sofa until she asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure. I’m guessing it’s some sort of article or social media post about Daphne not showing up at my dad’s last night for dinner. The people posting these things never have all the facts and always make a big deal out of nothing.” He clicked on the link Daphne and Mac had both sent him.
When he saw the image fill his screen he groaned again. When he read the bold caption underneath, he cursed.
“Is it that bad?” Camilla sat up, taking the top sheet with her. “Poor Daphne.”
“It’s not about my sister.”
She took the phone from him. He scrubbed his hands across the stubble on his jaw and then his eyes. Unfortunately, he couldn’t unsee the bold caption under the picture of him and Camilla standing on her tiny porch last night, kissing.
Bronco’s Most Eligible Bachelor in Torrid Affair with Waitress
The angle of the photo meant it was likely shot from the sidewalk across the street, where the only nearby businesses were an antiques shop and a dry cleaner, two places that would’ve been closed on a Thanksgiving evening. “Someone must’ve been following us last night.”
“Perhaps. Your Tesla certainly stands out in this neighborhood,” Camilla said rather calmly. With as much effort as she’d taken to keep their relationship a secret, she certainly wasn’t showing any emotion now that they’d been found out. In fact, her tone was purely casual when she pointed out, “The way I’m holding up the pecan pie like a serving tray nicely underscores the fact that I’m just a waitress.”
He sat up in the bed. “Come on, Camilla, you know you’re so much more than that.”
“Of course I know that, Jordan. But it still doesn’t seem to stop anyone from commenting on my job title.” She didn’t have to point out that his father had also made the same reference last night.
Jordan retrieved the phone from her and only made it through the first few comments before he felt steam practically expel from his eyeballs. How could people be so absolutely mean about someone they’d never met? So absolutely crude?
It was one thing for him to ignore the haters when he was the target of their snide opinions and disparaging nicknames. It was quite another to see them so blatantly insulting Camilla. She’d done nothing to deserve any of this.
His fingers flew over the keyboard as he composed several scathing retorts before deleting them all. “You know what? These jerks don’t deserve a response. Half of them can’t even use proper grammar. I mean, what the hell is a ‘goal digger’?”
Camilla lifted her eyebrows as though he should already know, which he did. Then she stood and grabbed the nearest article of clothing on her floor—his cashmere sweater—and slid it over her head. Without saying a word, she padded the twelve or so feet to the kitchen and switched on her coffee maker. “You think that’s bad? Slide to the next picture in the post and see what some creative thinkers wrote there.”
Jordan set his feet on the floor, but that didn’t brace him for the next image. It was of Camilla—still holding that pecan pie—using her other hand to pull on his belt as she led him inside. The caption said:
Grabbing the bull by the horn, or in this case, the Rancher by the—
Jordan couldn’t look away from some of the disgusting comments people were maki
ng on that one. But ultimately, the consensus was the same. They thought Camilla was an opportunist and not good enough for the Charmed Prince of Bronco Heights.
“How are you being so calm about this?” he asked as he yanked on his discarded pants.
“Because I expected this all along.” She shrugged. “Any female who dates you must know that her name is going to get thrown to the wolves. When those females are wealthy socialites, the wolves might sniff around a bit before getting bored and moving on. But when it’s someone like me—someone who shouldn’t even be able to reach the social ladder, let alone climb it—then it’s gonna be an open feast.”
Guilt rocked through Jordan. She was right. She’d even tried to warn him, but he blew her off, thinking that it couldn’t possibly be this bad. “So how do you think we should handle this?”
“There’s nothing to handle.” Again Camilla shrugged, and her indifference affected him more than anything else had. What had happened to the woman who’d fought for him last night? Jordan watched her in confusion as she took a sip of coffee then added, “Stuff like this is going to happen no matter what we say. And if people think we’re together, it’ll happen even more.”
“They better think we’re together,” Jordan said louder than he intended. “They also better think that I’m not going to sit by while a bunch of strangers make insulting comments about you on social media.”
Camilla hesitated and in that moment, he saw she wasn’t completely indifferent. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
“Look.” He reached up to trace the outline of her face and ended by sliding his fingers into her silky hair as he cupped her head. She leaned into him somewhat reluctantly. “Last night, you admitted that we were in a relationship. I know we agreed on three weeks, six official dates, before we made any final decisions. Now that we’ve come this far, though, there’s no way either one of us is willing to throw all of that away.”
“Be very careful about what you’re committing to, Jordan.” Her eyes searched his. “If we continue to see each other, this will be our reality. If we’re going to come out and tell everyone that we’re a couple, we will have to deal with the backlash.”
He planted his feet apart and pulled her closer to him. “I’m up for the challenge.”
Her chuckle was forced, but he wasn’t kidding. This time, she drew her hands up to his jaw and cupped his face. “Come on, Jordan. Let’s not kid ourselves. You’ve walked away from a number of relationships over a lot less than some negative publicity. The truth is, we’ve only known each other a few weeks. Before rushing into a full-blown relationship, maybe we should just take it slow and see how this all plays out.”
“I don’t want to take it slow.” He stepped back and stretched his arms over his head. “Hell, Camilla, I want the whole damn world to know.”
“That’s easy for you to say.” She braced one hand on the kitchen counter. “You’re not the one they’re calling a gold digger. Your business won’t be affected by any of this. However, the business I’m trying to launch—the one I’ve been dreaming about and planning for the past six years—will depend on my reputation. I might be able to thumb my nose at these types of posts while we’re together. But what happens when we break up?”
Break up? The words were a punch to his solar plexus. “You’ve barely admitted we’re in a relationship and now you’re already thinking about dumping me?”
“I’m thinking about what will happen down the road. If we break up, which is entirely possible since we barely even know each other, then I’m going to be the one who looks like the evil money grubber. The one who failed to sink her hooks into you. You’ll always be the Prince Charming who made a dashing escape.”
“Nobody will ever think that about you,” he argued. How could anyone think Camilla Sanchez was anything less than perfect and smart and amazing?
She marched over to where he’d left his phone and tapped on the display screen. “They already do.”
“Then I’ll tell them that they’re all wrong.”
“Of course you will. Or better yet, why don’t you have Cornelius Taylor issue one of his royal commands?”
After everything she’d witnessed last night between him and his old man, he was surprised by how much her words stung. “Are you comparing me to my father?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” She rubbed her temples. “All I’m trying to say is that you can’t go around telling people how they should feel or what they should believe.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets and dropped his head. He’d gone from anger to desperation to shame in the blink of five minutes. The last emotion wasn’t something he wanted to dwell on. He was a successful businessman who didn’t back down from a challenge or a negotiation.
Jordan sucked in a deep breath through his nose, inhaling every ounce of determination he could harness. When he dragged his eyes up to Camilla’s beautiful face he said, “I’m not going to tell you how to feel. But I’m also not going to apologize to you—or to anyone else—for how I feel.”
“Look, Jordan, it’s been an intense few days and I have to go back to work tonight. Maybe it’s best if we just let the dust settle a little bit before either one of us says something we might later regret.”
“Fine.” He snatched his shirt off the floor, not bothering to put on his boots before walking out into the cold, harsh reality of morning. He didn’t even care that people might be hanging out on the street in front of her apartment, hoping for a photo of Jordan Taylor doing the walk of shame.
Frustration grew with each bare step he took. He was frustrated with the anonymous social media haters for commenting on things that were none of their business. He was frustrated with Camilla for not believing in their relationship. He was frustrated with his father because, well, because he was always frustrated with his old man and would think of the reason later.
But mostly, he was frustrated with himself and his complete lack of control over the situation.
How had it all gone wrong so fast?
* * *
That weekend, Camilla threw herself into work. And when she wasn’t doing that, she threw herself into her plans for her new restaurant and putting the finishing touches on her Integrated Project for school. She’d already given her two-week notice at DJ’s Deluxe and had even opened escrow on the old library building in Bronco Valley, which needed a ton of repairs.
She told herself that she was too busy to worry about Jordan and what he wanted right this second. She told herself that by not answering his calls immediately, she was giving him the chance to see that he would be fine without her. She told herself that the only way either one of them would be able to think clearly and evaluate their relationship was if there was some distance between them.
What she couldn’t tell herself, though, was that not seeing him, not hearing his voice for several days, had only made her miss him more.
As Camilla drove away from a meeting with her investor—who, thankfully, hadn’t withdrawn financial support for the restaurant after seeing all those negative social media comments about her—she saw Jordan’s name appear on her phone screen. Her conflicted heart was already tearing at the seams, so she finally gave in and answered.
“Hey,” she said as she pulled over to the side of the road.
“Fifth time is the charm,” he replied, probably referring to the four other “missed” calls he’d made this past weekend. “How are you?”
“I’m doing okay. Just really, you know, busy right now. How are you?”
“Well, I’m going crazy over here not knowing what you’re thinking or how you’re feeling. I miss you, Camilla.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “I miss you, too.”
“Then why won’t you see me?”
“Because I think we both need to cool down, give each other some space, and take a little time to consider
what we really want.”
“Except I already know what I want. I want you.”
Heat spread over her skin before a sudden chill set in. As much as she loved hearing him say the words, she knew that she had to be strong and hold her ground. “Then you’ll have to wait until I figure out what I want.”
“How long will that take?” he asked, and she could picture him looking at his watch.
“There’s no timetable. This isn’t something you can put on your schedule or a deadline you can write into a contract. I’m not going anywhere, Jordan. I’m just asking for some space.”
“And I promise that I’m trying my hardest to give you that space.” He really was, she knew. The Jordan she’d met a few weeks ago would’ve casually shown up everywhere he thought she might be in the hopes of spending time with her. So for him, this was progress. That didn’t stop the negotiator in him from adding, “But I can’t prove to you we’re meant to be together if we’re never actually together.”
“I get it. It’s just that I need to be sure you’re ready for a real relationship with a woman who...” She paused, not wanting to use the same words others had used to describe her. Camilla knew who she was and refused to be defined by any of those haters on social media. “With a woman like me.”
“You mean a beautiful and smart and capable woman who doesn’t need me? I think I’ve already proven that I’m more than ready for that.”
“But for how long, Jordan? How long will you be willing to put up with all the disapproval from your father and the rest of the world? Who’s to say that you won’t get tired of the turmoil and go back to women who fit into the mold of who a Taylor should date?”
“Neither one of us can answer that unless you give us a chance to find out,” he countered. “It’s like this restaurant you’re planning to open, right? You’ve crunched all the numbers, you’ve analyzed all the data, you’ve studied all the business models. I can tell you until I’m blue in the face that it’s going to be a success because I’m confident in the person running it. But the rest of the town won’t know it’s a success until after you open your doors and they can see it for themselves. There’s no reward without risk.”
His Christmas Cinderella Page 15