by Claire Adams
"Oh no. Don't worry about it," I said easily, standing. It had only been about ten minutes, and I had been able to keep myself busy in her salon's waiting area. Since Brett had told me where Cameron was, I had been paranoid. I had been checking every day to see whether the secret of his location had come out. Was it a secret? Brett knew, and I knew, but I didn't know whether that was the end of that list. Either it was, or whoever also knew just didn't care to spill the beans.
"Ugh, the lady I had was impossible," Kasey complained. We walked out of the salon into the street. Just a block down was a sandwich place that she and a lot of the other stylists would order from daily. Today had been the only day so far this week that she had had an opening at the same time as I had a break. Being the last day, I'd get to talk to her before I had to make the drive out to find Grayson's son and try to talk some sense into him. I wanted to get her opinion on the whole thing.
"She came in wanting a color and cut. She set her appointment asking for cut and color. The girl's hair is black, and she thought the best time to tell me the color she wanted was platinum was when she was already in my chair."
I laughed a little. "How'd she take the news when you broke it to her?"
"She insisted that she had brunette friends who had gone blonde in one sitting. I'm not a miracle worker; I'm a fucking stylist. And she totally lied when I asked her whether the black was box dye or not. I wasn't about to spend the next six hours stripping that shit out of her hair, and when I told her that, she acted like I was the one who had done something wrong not telling her beforehand. How the hell was I supposed to know that that would be walking in when all she had asked for setting her appointment had been a cut and color?"
I let Kasey rant. I had never been a stylist, but I had hung around her enough to know a thing or two, and I had heard all her hair client horror stories. She was also my stylist, so I knew firsthand what she could do. Someone sitting in her chair and acting like she didn't know what she was talking about was simply insulting. With my job, I almost always had more knowledge of the law than the people I was dealing with, so nobody got all know-it-all with me. People had, however, been perming, dying, curling, cutting, and straightening their own hair for years at home and sometimes got an attitude when a pro told them they were doing it wrong. Even if I never moved back to Salt Lake, I'd lay down and die before finding another stylist.
We got to the place, got our food, and sat. She asked me how work was I sighed, thinking about the trip I had to make into the mountains the next day. Fucking cabin in the mountains. Could he have been any more dramatic? He was at least thirty already; who did he think he was? My opinion of him changed when I had spoken to him a couple times, but then, he went and pulled a stunt like this. I couldn’t hate him, but I was close. I did resent him. I resented him for doing it, and I resented being the one who had to go collect him before everyone he left behind lost their minds.
"Well," I started, "there's the thing where my boss died a couple weeks ago."
"Is it still a big deal at the office?"
"Mr. Porter worked there most of his life. For a lot of people, he was the only boss we knew. It's not like we were friends, but it still sucks," I said, pulling a pickle out of my sandwich and eating it. "There was a plan. When Mr. Porter wasn't in power anymore, it was going to be transferred to his son, Cameron."
"So how's he doing?"
"That's just it," I grimaced. "He isn't."
"He isn't what?"
I broke it down for her. Cameron owned everything his father did now, including his positions of owner and CEO at Porter Holdings. Of all the people who should have cared about what was happening with the company, he was at the top of the list, but he had been a lot more reluctant than any of us had been expecting.
"Can’t you just get someone else?"
"Technically, yeah, but it isn't that simple. It would have been one thing if he had just sulked and said he didn't want to work, but he's been talking about selling his stake and completely stepping back."
"Oh my god, can you imagine that sell out," Kasey said dreamily. I frowned at her.
"Let's hope I never have to." Or did. Whichever got us to the end of this foolish detour faster. If selling was what was going to happen, then fine. I knew Brett didn’t want it to for whatever reasons—I wasn’t terribly interested in learning them—but between Cameron and the company, the company was more important. Cameron could sit out in the mountains forever, as long as he wasn’t fucking up the program for everyone here.
"I still don't get it. What’s the big deal if he wants to sell? Maybe he just wants to take the money and be happy and rich the rest of his life. That's probably what I would do."
"Porter Holdings employs hundreds of people. The way the business is structured, a major shift in management could end up costing a lot of people their jobs. The way Mr. Porter told me, there's a bigger reason why he wanted Cameron to have the company when he was gone. He worked at it all his life for the day he could hand it over to his son."
"So you agree that he needs to do it? What does he actually want? You've told me about people needing to keep their jobs and this being his destiny or whatever, but what about him?"
"Well, I get to find that out tomorrow," I sighed. "He moved into a cabin in the mountains almost a week ago."
Kasey laughed. "Are you kidding? And you have to go check on him or something? Who is this guy?"
"I ask myself that all the time and still haven't figured it out. Brett, the guy he left in charge, asked me to do it. He thinks I can talk some sense into him. Or maybe he just asked me to go to make sure he hasn't died out there yet."
"Well, he got the right girl for the job," Kasey teased.
"Don't remind me," I said, rolling my eyes.
"Are you getting flashbacks?" she asked, laughing. Princess Kasey had never lived outside of a mile from an ATM in her life. She loved to bring my country and western childhood up to get a rise out of me. I went back to the ranch to see my parents a couple times a year, but I did not miss it. My childhood had been great. My parents were amazing people, and I knew that I could rely on them for anything, really. My brothers were good men too. Aaron still lived with my parents, helping on the ranch, Derrick had started his own, while Ollie and Marcus lived in Missoula. I just didn't want to be that girl anymore. Leaving finally for college drove home just how much I hadn't experienced or even knew about. These days, I was more interested in getting my nails done than baling hay.
Cameron didn’t get that chance, I realized. He wasn’t living with his parents until they died, but he had been part of their world until they died. Okay, I could see the why for this existential crisis. His timing was still wrong, and his methods were ridiculous. I knew what it was like not to want the life your parents had raised you into, a lot of people did. That didn’t make Cameron special. It made him a late bloomer.
"You know what? If he moved out there after nothing but reading a Wikihow article and buying himself a bowie knife, he's in for a rude awakening."
"Did that guy, Brett, know your people are mountain men? Is that why he wanted you to do it?"
"He couldn't have known that. I've never told anyone at work before. I don't know why he picked me. I was with him when we got the news that the Porter's jet had gone down," I shrugged. "His dad had asked me for help talking to him too," I added, making the connection. Mr. Porter had gotten me involved initially, so had he talked to Brett to make sure I did what he had asked me to? Had he wanted two instead of just one person watching out for his son once he was gone? It hardly mattered; I was driving out to the mountains regardless.
"He had to have asked you for a reason," Kasey said, shrugging.
"Yeah, because he didn't want to do it himself," I said, remembering the last conversation I had had with Cameron Porter. All this time I had spent talking to and about him, and I didn't feel any closer to having him figured out. He thought the world he lived in was corrupt and materialistic? Did he lose
a lot of sleep in his mansion thinking about how sad it is that people are artificial and he's the only one who knows what's going on?
Fucking hell.
"You'll think of something," Kasey said. "You're a lawyer; you convince people for a living." Not that kind of lawyer, but she was kind of right. There was the fact that I didn't really know what I would tell Cameron, but it was trumped by my not wanting to see him very much. He... he wasn't very fun. I had caught him at a bad time, obviously, but I never really looked forward to our interactions when we would have them.
"I don't think failure is an option in this case," I said dryly.
"You'll get him back. His parents just died. People mourn in different ways. Imagine having all that pressure right after your parents died to basically move on like nothing happened." I nodded, but sympathizing with him wasn't going to make this any easier.
"He picked a horrible time to get back to nature. Winter in the mountains will probably send him running back here before anything I tell him does."
"What time are you heading out?"
"Morning, so I have enough time to go and get back. Brett considers this something of a family emergency, and a snow storm's supposed to blow through there this weekend, so the sooner, the better."
"Are you nervous?"
"No," I said. She narrowed her eyes at me.
"Nat?"
"What?" she looked at me with a grin on her face. "Oh my god."
"No. Shut up," I said, feeling my face get hot.
"You like him, don't you?"
"He's a spoiled brat who doesn't care what his selfish choices are going to mean for hundreds of people," I said petulantly.
"He doesn't have to be a good person for you to think he's cute."
"It doesn't matter. That's not the reason I have to talk to him."
"Are you nervous you're going to be with him all alone in the mountains like that? Nobody for miles?" she goaded. "You're into that, right? Hairy outdoorsmen who can build homes and kill elk with their bare hands."
"I hate you," I said, rolling my eyes. She laughed. Cameron was easy to look at, but if she thought that was what I wanted…she was absolutely right. I hadn't had anything serious since my last boyfriend. Just some dates that didn't get anywhere. No matter how I felt though, it was off the table. It wouldn't even be right, going after him at a time like this. He had just lost his parents, and it didn't matter how put together he seemed on the outside. He was hurting, and taking advantage of him wanting comfort or distraction would have just been wrong.
"I've seen what he looks like. I get it," she said. I rolled my eyes. She was a serial dater. Guys just found her somehow, but in all the time I'd known her, she had never really dated anyone steadily. Not her style, and I could respect that. She was twenty-six, so she had an excuse. That, and time. I was older than her by two years, and I had plans for what I'd wanted by the time I turned thirty. A steady relationship had been one of them. Of course, it wasn't my first priority, but a partner would have been nice. Cameron Porter was my project. He was cute, but broody billionaire's son wasn't my type, even if he had beautiful hair and I wanted to run my fingers through it.
"I couldn't take advantage of a man in mourning."
"Mm-hmm," she said, smirking. "Strictly business between you two then?"
"Yes," I said tersely.
"Do you want me to do your hair tomorrow before you leave?" she asked. I nodded. I had been meaning to have my bangs trimmed anyway. No, it had nothing to do with the fact that I was seeing Cameron. A fresh blowout was just a nice little confidence boost. It felt good to feel like you looked good.
"Yes, please. Could you trim my bangs back down?"
"No, Natalie, we're growing those out for the winter," she said. Were we? I laughed. A lot of the time, I sat in her chair and just let her do her thing. As long as I didn't lose my length, I trusted her completely. Cameron wouldn't notice if I got my hair done, but that wasn't the point. I'd need all the confidence I could muster. Failure to get him back would mean... I hardly knew what, but I knew it wouldn't be good. Was my job at stake too if I couldn't get him back? Who could say, but I wasn't willing to take that bet.
Chapter Thirteen
Cameron
I swung the ax splitting the log almost clean down the middle. I swung again, and the two pieces fell on either side of the chopping block. It had been a few hours since I had gotten up. I had waited for the fog to clear before coming out to get some more wood. I was going through a little more each day; the temperature was dropping faster than I had anticipated. I had a woodpile that I added to every day, along with splitting logs to use in the cabin. I had mostly gotten the hang of it. It had become part of my daily routine. The repetitive movements were great for letting me think. It was so quiet out there; any little sound caught my attention.
I stopped, hearing something. I frowned, straightening up, seeing a car drive up to the cabin. I didn't know whether there were any cabins past mine, and this wasn't really how I wanted to find out. Whoever was in there was going to do us both a favor by realizing they made a mistake and turning their car around.
It couldn't be Brett, could it? No, it wasn't his car. I didn't recognize the car at all. It was a sedan, which meant coming up here on that road must have sucked, but you know what? Maybe I wasn't far out enough. I put the ax down and headed towards the house, standing at the foot of the porch. The car stopped, and I watched as the driver's side opened.
It was her.
"Cameron?" she called, walking up. I couldn't believe it. Brett had betrayed me. He was the only person I had told where I was, so she had to have heard it from him. What was going on between those two? I didn’t want to think he was lying to his wife with her, but the other option was they were working together, trying to get me to go back and sit behind dad’s old desk like he wanted me to. Well, it wasn’t going to happen. Both of them were wasting their time. Of all the people I would have wanted to see up here... I wasn't mad, but she had been neither expected nor invited, so what was I supposed to do? Welcome her in with open arms?
This girl just didn't know when to quit, did she? She was in a parka, layered over a trench coat and that over a sweater. She had come prepared for the cold. Her hood was down though, and her hair was in loose, golden waves. Everything she had on was white and pink. With her hair and clothes and the white snow, she looked kind of angelic. Her lips were red, and she was wearing boots with a heel on them. Who the hell wore... no, of course, she was wearing that; she always looked like she'd stepped off a damn runway. She wasn't here to stay. She wasn't about to pick up an ax and help me out with the woodpile.
"It's you," I said dryly.
"It’s good to see you too," she replied sarcastically, looking around at the property.
"Well, you're not lost. What do you want?"
"This is...nice," she said. Yeah? And where did she live? The only place I could see a girl like her living was Barbie's fucking Dreamhouse.
"Want a tour?"
"Can I have one?" she asked. I hadn't been serious, but she sounded like she was. I sighed, looking back at the chopping block. I needed to get rid of her. If she was here, it was to try to twist my arm. The sooner I let her do that, the sooner she'd leave.
"Let's get inside," I offered. She followed me up the porch steps.
"Were you doing something when I came?" she asked.
"Nope," I lied, holding the door open. She smiled at me and walked in.
"Wow," she said appreciatively, slipping her parka off her shoulders. The cabin had been redone recently, so it had great insulation. The worst of the cold hadn't gotten here yet, so I was happy for that. As far as cabins went though, I guessed it was nice. It wasn’t bad, at least. The wood was all finished, and its design was rustic without feeling too old fashioned.
"This is the kitchen, that is the living room, through there is the bathroom, and the bedroom is up those steps," I said, giving her the layout of the place. The open plan meant
she could see it all right from where she was near the door. My little kingdom at the top of the mountain. I walked past her into the kitchen. "Do you want coffee or something?"
"Coffee sounds good," she said, walking into the living room. "Thanks." I looked back over my shoulder at her where I was at the stove. She was looking around, walking slowly around the space, stopping at the windows and looking outside. "It's beautiful out here."
"Yup."
"Do you need help with that?" she asked. The water in the percolator was beginning to bubble a little. The coffee would be done soon. I had snagged the vintage Pyrex percolator from my parents’ house and had finally gotten the hang of making drinkable coffee using it. Mom had a whole collection of vintage china and other cookware. It wasn't like she'd be needing it, and I hadn't been about to haul a Keurig up here.
"No," I said, distractedly, getting one mug out of the cabinet and rinsing the other one that I had used for breakfast off before drying it. I had two of everything, clearly not prepared for guests. I hadn’t made Brett take an oath of secrecy, but I was still a little peeved that he told on me. I hadn’t had to deal with another person in about a week, so it was a little weird, but social interaction was probably one of those things you couldn’t truly forget. "You're not hungry, are you?"
"No," she said. I turned and looked at her. She was trying the door to the deck, but it was locked.
"Key's on the loop on the front door," I told her. She went over and got it, opening the door to the deck. She disappeared outside for a few moments while I poured the coffee. How did she take it? I always had mine black. I picked up both the mugs and walked out onto the deck. It was covered, with steps leading down to the ground. Behind the house, the ground sloped down, and I thought there was a creek at the bottom, but I wasn't sure. I hadn't explored that far. The tree cover was decent but not too dense. I always saw deer when I'd come out. If you were just looking out at it from inside a house or on a television screen, it looked calm, silent, and eerily beautiful.