“Oh, I know Camille, let me tell you all about the frigid ice queen of Dublin.”
Cami
I got to the airport a few minutes before the American’s flight landed from Los Angeles. I took me time walking through the airport, stopping to check out some of the offerings from the shops that were there. Still, even with all my wandering about I still arrived at the baggage claim a wee bit early. Not that I’d know the American when I saw him, my parents had failed to send me with a description. It was all the same to me, besides if I neglected to find him then I guess he’d just have to board a plane back to the states.
It’s not that I had anything against Americans, in fact, I find them bang on funny, I just didn’t like me Da taking charge of the building of the gazebo when it was my bloody design in the first place. Sure, he was paying fer the wedding and such, but I wanted Synclair to be happy when she got to Ireland and happy with me when she saw the grand wedding I’d planned for her.
“Cami?” Asked a familiar voice from my past. Or at least I had hoped it would stay in my past.
I raised me head from my thoughts and found meself staring at me arsehole, ex-boyfriend, Sean. Well, of course, it was Sean, it was just my bleedin’ lot in life that I happened to be at the airport at the exact same time as the demon from my past.
I stood up from the bench and stepped to the side prepared to bolt. Yeah, it was cowardly of me but seeing him standing there in his fine trenchcoat and perfect hair made me sick to my stomach. So it was either rush off or puke all over his expensive shoes.
“Cami wait!” His hand grabbed my arm stopping my less than graceful escape.
“What do ya want Sean?” I demanded as I jerked my arm from his pansy ass grasp. Jesus, his hands were so soft he could be a hand lotion model.
His blue eyes narrowed, and he started to frown. Yeah, well too bleedin’ bad, I thought to meself. What right did he have to give me attitude after what he’d done?
“Well, I don’t have all bloody day Sean, spit out whatever you have to say and then go away,” I practically shouted, ignoring the looks from the people pushing all around us as they grabbed their bags from the belt.
“Still as lovely as an Irish wildflower, Cami,” he purred. The man actually purred at me. Did he think he was in one of his romantic films? Did that shite actually make women fall back with their legs in the air?
“Was that it? Was that your brilliant statement?” I asked getting more and more pissed off by the second. Any minute the American would be bustling by me and I could tell I was going to make a grand impression.
“Of course not, if you’d just stop being so bloody angry with me for a moment, I could apologize. Jesus, you’re just as stubborn and childish as you always were,” he ground out in an angry whisper so that no one could hear his words but me.
His remarks stung and for a moment, I wanted to physically rub my chest. Then I remembered who was spewing this crap, and my anger won out over my humiliation.
With all the hurt of five years coursing through my veins I swung out my fist and connected it with his smooth cheek.
“That’s what I think of your proper apology Sean, my mother may have invited you to me cousin’s wedding but don’t think for a moment that I want you there,” I shouted rubbing my hand. Shite, it felt like it was on fire and I could already feel my knuckles swelling.
I had never seen Sean look so angry. He straightened and rubbed his red cheek. He starting stalking toward me, not sure what he was going to do, but deciding I should definitely do all I could to avoid finding out, I stepped back for every step he took toward me.
Just as I backed into a cold, steel wall, I saw him close in on me. I flinched when I saw his hands raised, then turned my head to ward off the blow to my face that I knew was comin’.
When the blow never came, I popped one eye open and looked about, what I saw had me opening the second eye straight quick and gawking.
Dalton
Mad didn’t even begin to cover the emotions I was feeling right now. Tara had gleefully told me the story of how this guy, Sean, had used Camille for financial support while he made a name for himself in the film business. If what Tara said was true, Camille worked two jobs and went to school so he could devote himself full-time to his career. How does the little fucker reward her devotion? By fucking Tara six ways from Sunday on Camille's dinner table!
What was mind boggling was how Tara claimed that she had been Camille’s best friend, but couldn’t ignore the pull she felt toward that asshole Sean. So Camille had been fucked over by not only her mooching boyfriend but also by her slutty bestie. No wonder the woman was so uptight, with friends like those who needed enemies?
I tried to hide my anger when Tara explained that Camille’s mother had invited Sean to the wedding, with the hopes they could patch things up. Tara for her part had dumped Sean for another guy, but now that her fling was over she was coming to Dublin to get him back.
She went from a woman I was seriously contemplating taking into the Mile High Club to someone I couldn’t get away from fast enough.
How she kept up with me in those ‘fuck me’ heels she was wearing, I would never know, but she trailed me through the terminal all the way to baggage claim.
I scrubbed my hands down my face while I waited for my duffle bag to come closer. Tara hadn’t noticed that I had stopped talking and why would she? She hadn’t shut up since the pilot had announced we were going to be landing soon.
Pulling the bag onto my shoulder, I moved away from the cackling witch and began to search for Camille. I had gotten a text from her father, Jack, letting me know that she would be the one picking me up from the airport.
Oh, joy! The last time we had spent any time together, she had pushed me into the pond on the ranch. I had never understood why she was so immune to my charm, however, after hearing about Sean and Tara, I knew why she was so closed off. The woman wasn’t frigid, as Tara believed, far from it.
I had tasted her mouth just briefly at the moment before she had hauled off and pushed me into the water. Just before she flipped out I had felt her relax, had felt her hands tighten on my shirt and her tongue was definitely not shy. Whatever Camille Patrick-McDougall was, she was definitely not frigid, possibly just uninspired.
As I walked through baggage claim, I finally spotted Camille standing in front of a guy in a black trenchcoat. Her face was flushed red with anger, and she was standing with her fists clenched at her sides. I quickened my pace and was about ten feet from them when I saw her swing out and catch the much taller man with a decent right hook.
I stopped to laugh but thought the better of it when I saw pissed off, trench coat guy, start to back her up menacingly. Fits the description of her ex-asshole! Oh hell no, jackass, we do not hit women.
In two strides I was there, his hand was raised to strike, but I struck first. In two moves I had kicked the back of his knees causing him to fall to the ground kneeling and then I rounded on the asshat and right crossed him.
“Fuck off Sean,” I growled. I had never hit a woman, ever! Women were to be protected and cherished, any asshole that thought different needed to kicked off the planet!
Camille opened one eye and then the other. When she saw me standing over her ex, she leapt from the wall like it was on fire.
“Dalton bloody Hudson, just what the hell do you think you’re doing here?”
Smiling, I tucked a stray bit of hair back behind her ear; when I noticed how her breath hitched, I realized she wasn’t as immune to me as she let on. Okay, this I could work with.
“Looking for a pot of gold,” I told her flashing her one of my brilliant smiles.
All I got in return was a scowl and eye roll. Part of me hoped her eyes got stuck in the back of her head when she did that, not a big part but a part all the same.
“American eejit, this isn’t a cereal commercial, ya just knocked a lad flat, we need to get out of here before the Garda come.”
“Garda
?” I had to ask.
“The police, the cops, the po-po,” she explained like I was a simpleton.
Shit, I had only been in Ireland twenty minutes, and I was already running from the law.
Sean groaned from the ground and I had to laugh. I laughed harder when Tara pushed past me to cradle asshat’s head in her lap. That was until I saw the look on Camille’s face. Her fair skin looked far too pale, even her usually rosy lips were white.
“You little shite, how dare you lay yer hands on him, he has a photo shoot next week,” Tara shouted at Camille.
A look of pain flashed across Camille’s face but before I could say anything to Tara, she grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the whining woman.
“Let’s go Captain America,” Camille told me as she pushed me toward the exit.
I followed behind her as she wove through the crowded airport. She was beyond pissed, I could tell by the way she walked and the way her hands shook. Not that it was a bad view from behind. She had an ass that just begged to be touched, worshiped and bitten. Okay, so I’m an ass guy, maybe it’s a Hudson trait since my brother Reece can’t shut up about how much he loves to worship at the altar of Synclair’s lush behind.
The little wench pulled farther ahead of me, and I had to actually sprint to catch her.
“Dammit it Camille, stop,” I stopped her from opening the door to her tiny car. I mean seriously it looked like a damn clown car.
“Why didn’t they want me to know you were the contractor they were hiring from the states Hudson?” She looked up at me with those sky colored eyes and a face that was full of hurt.
I just wanted to wrap her in my arms. However, at that moment, the action would probably earn me one less testicle, so I kept my comforting notions to myself.
I sighed, she was right. They should have told her. When Synclair showed me the design for the gazebo that Camille had emailed her, I was stunned. It was beautiful. It was a large rounded structure with lots of white lattice work and she even sketched all the flowers she planned to place on it for the wedding. As soon as I saw it, I wanted to be the one to build it. The only issue was that I had committed to the renovation of Synclair and Sara new restaurant, “Good Eats”.
Luckily I have an excellent crew and a foreman that assured me that he could handle the renovations for the next few months. That freed me up to travel out to Dublin, with a little over a month before the wedding, I figured I had plenty of time to get the gazebo built and spend some time with the mysterious woman who had dunked me in the pond after I kissed her some months back.
“Well, are ya just going to block my door all bleedin’ day Hudson or are ya going to let me get in?” came an annoyed voice.
“I’m not going to apologize for hitting that asshole, Camille,” I told her throwing my duffle bag in the back seat, then climbing into the small passenger side that was on the left side of the car and not the right. Damn, I forgot that Europeans drive on the other side of the road.
“Why do you insist on calling me Camille, everyone else calls me Cami?” she seemed calmed but still pissed.
“Because Camille is your name, and it’s a beautiful name to match its lovely owner,” I told her. There, a nice compliment, surely that would win me some points.
She snorted. “Och, go on now.”
Okay, tough room, no points. “Look, I’m here, and I’m going to build the gazebo you designed. It was beautiful by the way,” I told her meaning every word. I had loved the design, the fact that she was the one who had come up with it only made me love it more.
Not getting any more conversation out of her I settled back in my seat and watched the Dublin cityscape pass by. It was definitely different than Carson City. The buildings had age and character going for them, some of them looking to be as old as 10th century.
As we pulled out of the city, the landscape changed to green grass, trees and cows, lots of cows. Then the rain started.
Holy crap, it didn’t just rain here in Ireland, in deluged. I watched as Camille kept her wipers at full capacity and navigated the road as if she could drive it blind.
Tired after the long flight and not getting any conversation out of Camille, I started to doze off.
I was just about to go to sleep when I heard Camille curse, swerve and then hit the brakes on her car.
“What- what is it?” I asked sitting straight up. Did we have a flat? Was there some animal on the road?
“You called him Sean,” she spat at me as she turned her smaller body toward mine. I could almost feel the agitation radiating off her in waves.
“Good guess?” I smiled, hoping to be let off the hook.
The look on her face told me that wasn’t happening.
“Okay, yes, I knew his name.” Ha! There, the best answer, honest yet not forthcoming with details.
“Just how did you manage to know the name of me ex-boyfriend when I have never mentioned him to ya?” she asked, like a dog with a bone she wasn’t letting this go.
“I was sitting next to a woman on the plane, she asked me if I knew anyone in Dublin and I told her your family’s name,” I said cringing when her face turned three shades of red.
“Tara, you were seated next to that slapper Tara?”
Okay, I have no idea what a slapper is, but I’m pretty sure that it was not a compliment to the woman. I nodded to her and kept my hands in front of me. After all, this was Synclair’s cousin, she could have a bat or some other weapon readily available to kill me with.
Instead of attempting to maim me she turned back in her seat and rested both hands on the steering wheel. Her head slumped forward, and her headband slipped letting brown curly cascades cover her face.
“She told you then?” she asked, her voice sounded small like she was breaking.
“Yeah, she did, I had no idea Camille, I’m so sorry,” I told her. It was true, I hated the fact that she had been hurt, that she was still hurting over that asshole and his slut puppy.
“Right, that’s it then, I’m going for a walk, I’ll see you at the house,” she suddenly announced as she threw open her door. She was about to exit the car and go into the pouring rain when I reached over and grabbed her arm.
“Are you nuts Camille? It’s pouring, let’s just go to the house and I won’t say anything more about your ex, okay?” I tried to placate the crazy woman, no way was I letting her bolt in a rainstorm leaving me in a tiny clown car on the side of the road.
She jerked her arm from my grasp and scowled. “The house is only a few kilometers up the road, you can’t miss it, there’s a large mailbox that’s painted yellow with the name McDougall written on it, have at it,” she told me as she jumped out of the car.
What the actual fuck?!!?
Cami
I had to get out of me car, away from Dalton Hudson, away from the humiliation of everything that Tara had told him. That bitch, what were the odds that she’d be the one sitting next to Dalton on the plane? You silly nitwit, of course, Dalton would be next to some big boobed slapper, he was the ultimate charmer!
At the moment, I didn’t know who I was madder at, meself for ever trusting Sean or Dalton for knowing the most painful and humiliating part of my life. When he had looked at me with those Hudson green eyes, full of pity I wanted to scratch them out.
I know it was a rash move to throw myself out in a rainstorm. However, we were only a few kilometers from the farmhouse, surely the ex-military man could navigate a small car on a deserted farm road on his own for a few American miles.
I was so caught up in my ranting that I didn’t hear the bastard come up behind me until his arms banded around me like steel. Kicking out wildly, I tried to squirm away from his grip.
“Dammit Hudson, I have no desire to scrap with ya, let me be,” I shouted over the pelting rain.
He didn’t answer, and he didn’t let go. We were both soaked to the skin, I could feel the heat radiating off his chest as it seeped into my wet blouse. I didn’t like the way it made
me feel, I felt tingly in my girly parts, and my heart was pounding. This only made me madder.
“Put. Me. Down.” I demanded.
“As you wish M’lady,” he said mocking me as he plopped me down on the hood of me car.
Fearing a dent, I tried to pop off, but the arsehole caged me in with his arms. If you could call them arms, they seriously looked like muscular tree trunks that someone had attached to his shoulders.
Angry green eyes bore into mine. He was pissed at me? Why? Because I’d rather walk home in the pelting rain then spend one more moment in his company? Well, suck it up boyo, I thought to myself.
“You are going to get back in this car, and we are going to calmly drive to the farmhouse where I will unpack my clothes and look for something dry, seeing as this is the second time I have ended up all fucking wet in your presence,” he growled.
Again my girly parts twitched. Yeah, my girly parts were slappers or sluts by American language.
“Try again boyo, I’m going to be walkin’ meself home, and you can drive or stay here and drown for all that it matters to me,” I told him trying to move his arm out of my way.
Rain cascaded down his face, plastering his hair against his head. I don’t know why but I noticed his hair was lightened. Generally, a darker chestnut, now it seemed to be a lighter brown with some auburn flowing through it. It made his eyes seem brighter and his features became boyish.
“You changed your hair,” I blurted out while mentally facepalming my eejit self.
He smiled and when he did my insides flipped. This was the smile, the one my cousin had told me about. The one that all the women swooned for every time, he flashed it in their direction. His white teeth stood out against his full, pink lips and the dimples that sat on each corner of his mouth were begging to be licked. Wait! What? Oh no, not me, I refused to be like every other silly, article and swoon at his sexy dimples or brilliant white teeth.
“I did, I tend to do that from time to time,” he placed his forehead against mine, and I shivered. I told myself it was from the rain, but I knew I was bloody lying.
Lucky Charms: A Hudson Family Series- Book 3- Dalton and Cami Page 2