“As soon as possible,” Neal replied. Then he turned to a hovering Freckles to order the corned beef hash and eggs sunny-side up. “Our readers are wanting more and I’d love to have it for the August print issue since it relates to summer activities, but we can do more sneak peeks on our website to get the buzz going early.”
“But the Russells haven’t even agreed yet,” Charlotte pointed out. Thank God someone around here noticed. “And what about the camera crew?”
“What about your ankle?” Alex asked her.
“Hello?” Neal’s lofty tone was beginning to grate on Alex’s last nerve. “Do you have any idea of how big this will be for your career? I spoke with Debra Braxton over at the Food Network and she said that if this article gets as much attention as the last one, they’d be willing to offer you your own show. And I’m sure Russell’s Sports will have to turn down business after this.”
“I’d like to turn down his business,” Commodore mumbled around his toothpick before ordering the supreme sausage omelet.
The fact of the matter was that Alex’s family really couldn’t afford to turn down any potential customers. They hadn’t been able to afford it last summer, either, when Com “accidentally” cancelled the reservations for the staff development department of a mortgage company right after he told a professional hockey team that since they’d lost the Stanley Cup, they could lose the number to Russell’s Sports, as well. Sure, there’d been an upswing in reservations this week, but that wouldn’t carry them over into next summer. And they really needed the promise of a strong second season to get them into the black.
But would sending his emotions into the equivalent of a Class V rapid by spending another few days with Charlotte in a tent be worth it in the long run? Alex already felt himself being sucked in by her natural current and he should be paddling for the shore, not racing for the falls.
“Are those cinnamon rolls homemade?” Neal asked Freckles, pointing to the bakery case. “I’m going to need to fly my food critic out here to review some of the local restaurants.”
The café owner smiled brightly and Alex knew the man had just shifted any potential argument in his own favor. Once Freckles was on board with something, Alex would never hear the end of it. Unless he started making his own breakfasts at home.
Still, he wanted to scream that this was the absolute worst idea in the history of worst ideas—at least, from a personal standpoint, not a business one. But his mouth refused to say the words. His heart refused to be the bad guy. Also, Audrey was pointing to the menu and he was too busy ordering her French toast and a side of bacon for her to say anything else.
Alex had tried to create distance between him and Charlotte, to cut things off and send her back to San Francisco with their night together as a fond memory. As the guy who could handle a casual romantic relationship and not come off as being overly invested. He had a feeling that anything that he said right now wouldn’t sound laid-back at all. It was bad enough that they continued to run into each other like this, but forcing them to relive their adventure in the wilderness would be too much. Having their respective families there to witness the spectacle would be borderline insane.
He ordered the lumberjack breakfast and waited for Commodore to tell off Classy Neal—to do his dirty work for him. If his grandfather didn’t speak up soon, Alex would wind up offering to drive Charlotte and her adorably sassy daughters back to California himself. Whatever it took to get the woman out of his life sooner.
Instead, Com asked Neal, “You ain’t comin’ with us, right?”
“Oh, no.” Neal shook his head, but not a strand of his perfectly styled black hair moved. “I don’t sleep outdoors.”
“Good,” Commodore said before snagging another biscuit out of the basket in the center of the table. “A city boy like you would only get in our way.”
Alex slouched down so low in his seat, he didn’t know how he would make it out of this restaurant, let alone out of this mess.
* * *
“I can’t believe you two are seriously on board with this fiasco.” Alex’s hands were on his hips as he stared at his dad and grandfather. It was a few days after Classy Neal had that phony epiphany at the Cowgirl Up Café and tried to sell everyone on that ridiculous legacy glamping trip idea. He had less than forty-eight hours to convince himself—and the rest of the town of Sugar Falls—not to buy into the pretense.
“The publicity wouldn’t hurt us,” Vic replied. “And Mayor Johnston said the Chamber of Commerce thought it might boost tourism.”
“Got too much tourism ’round here, if you ask me,” Com said, pointing out the window at the occupied parking spaces in front of Auntie’s Antiques. “But I did promise Elsa I’d teach her how to fish. Don’t you like Miss Folsom’s daughters?”
“Of course I like them,” Alex said, scrubbing at his freshly shaved jaw. He’d seen the preview of Charlotte’s article online and vowed to never grow a centimeter of scruff again. He looked like a homeless lumberjack in one of the photos, although the comments section had blown up with questions about his modeling fees and his relation to Hugh Jackman. “They’re little daredevils and funny as can be. Even you like them, Com, which is saying something for an old, crotchety relic like you. But don’t you think we’re getting a little too chummy with the Folsom family?”
“We’re friends with a lot of the families around here,” Vic said, then looked at Commodore, who was writing down the out-of-state license plate number of one of Mrs. Cromartie’s antiquing customers who’d parked their vehicle on this side of the lot. Last time that happened, the turf war between his grandfather and their neighbor had escalated into threats involving jackhammers and restraining orders, respectively. “Well, some of us are.”
“But Charlotte’s not from around here.” Why did it feel like Alex was talking to a couple of pine trees? “What’s going to happen when they leave and go back to their world?”
“Classy Neal can go back to whatever world he came from.” Commodore didn’t bother looking up from his notepad. Why couldn’t the old man realize that Charlotte and her boss were two oars on the same boat? Especially after one of the assistants from Fine Tastes stopped by earlier today to see their tent inventory so that he could coordinate matching sleeping bags.
“Is something bothering you, son?” Vic asked, and the throbbing in Alex’s temples intensified. Normally, his father was about as attuned to human emotions as he was to the stock market. One time, when Alex was in seventh grade, his dad invited one of the biggest bullies at Sugar Falls Middle School to go mountain biking with them. Where was Vic’s sense of his son’s discomfort when Chuck Marconi was chasing Alex on his Schwinn down the rocky trail? Or ninth grade, when Alex spent fifth period in the nurse’s office with a swollen hand from punching that locker after Chuck had thought it would be hysterical to do his book report on Our Natural Souls by Mariah Judge during freshman English?
Now, all of a sudden, his dad had apparently decided to pick this week to turn into Dr. Phil.
“What do you mean?” Alex turned toward the round rack holding various sizes of life vests and began sorting them so all the red ones were together with the oranges hanging behind.
“Because yesterday you organized that same rack based on prices and today you’re trying to recreate the rainbow.” His dad’s observation made Alex clench his jaw. This was what happened when he allowed Charlotte and her silly lifestyle blogs and articles to put ridiculous decorating notions into his head. “Plus, you haven’t quite been yourself since you got back from that rafting trip with Ms. Folsom.”
“Nothing happened.” Alex’s voice was laced with defensiveness, but his dad’s face was devoid of judgment.
“Listen, I know where you’re coming from.” Obviously his dad understood what it was like to fall for a paying customer who wasn’t interested in anything other than a brie
f fling in the wilds of Idaho, but that didn’t mean anyone wanted to rehash the past. His entire life, they’d avoided this exact conversation and Alex wasn’t about to sit through an awkward speech about making the same mistake his old man had.
Vic scooted his backside onto a nearby shelf holding batting helmets as though he was settling in for long lecture, and Alex’s stomach felt like one of the deflated rafts Com should be trying to patch rather than calling Chief Cooper at the Sugar Falls PD to report illegally parked cars.
So instead of acknowledging his father’s uncharacteristic attempt to talk about emotions and women who could twist men inside out, Alex seized on the opportunity to save them both from the uncomfortable conversation and occupy himself by doing something more familiar. Like discussing sporting goods.
“We should move these batting helmets and protective gear over to the uniform section,” Alex said, needing to change the subject. “I mean, why are we displaying the baseball equipment near the water gear? From a merchandising standpoint, having it here makes zero sense.”
And neither did his sudden obsession with product placement. Ugh. He was even using Charlotte’s lingo now. But at least it was better than admitting his attraction to the lady. Or having his dad and Commodore give him grief about the dangers of getting too cozy with a woman who would inevitably leave him and return to the city.
Unfortunately, Vic, who was usually so easygoing he’d never pushed Alex to eat his vegetables or Commodore to pay his taxes, was like a dog with a bone when it came to Classy Neal’s stupid idea.
“Your grandfather and I would be willing to take the Folsom ladies on the camping trip by ourselves, but the editor from Fine Tastes made it clear that the magazine would prefer to have you along as...” His father looked toward Com. “What did he call Alex, Dad?”
Commodore made a scoffing noise. “Eye candy. Though I’m plenty sweeter than the both of you combined.”
“Yeah, right,” Alex said, then shook his head. “I don’t think any sane human has ever referred to you as being sweet.”
Vic’s laughter and their familiar teasing helped ease the seriousness of the uncomfortable chat, as well as some of the tension Alex had been holding in his jaw.
His grandfather took his toothpick out of his mouth and pointed it at them both. “Miss Folsom thinks I’m sweet and I don’t see her daughters complaining none.”
“Yeah, well, the jury is still out on their sanity,” Alex said under his breath. Actually, Audrey and Elsa were about as normal as any other child on one of his sports teams or in their summer day camps. The girls were perhaps a bit on the quirky side but that’s because they were smart and had great imaginations. And their mother loved them like crazy, even if she did tend to dress them in girly clothes they hated and cut their French toast for them when they clearly wanted to use Com’s steak knife and do it themselves.
But any female who could wrap a cranky know-it-all like Commodore Russell around her little finger must be from another planet.
“So, are you coming with us, son?” Vic asked, causing Alex’s stomach to turn inside out. As much as he hated to admit it—even to himself—he couldn’t stand the thought of his dad and grandfather getting to be the only ones who got to spend time with the Folsoms before they left. This time for good.
“As long as you don’t invite Chuck Marconi this time,” Alex mumbled, mostly to himself.
“What’s that?” his dad asked from behind the rack of life vests that he was putting back in order of size.
“Never mind,” Alex said, knowing his resolve had slipped before they’d even left the Cowgirl Up Café the other day. “Fine. We’ll do the camping trip. But no professional photographers.”
“Classy Neal is gonna hate that.” Com clapped his hands together gleefully. “I’ll call him right now and negotiate our terms.”
Vic beat his father to the phone. “No more negotiating for you, Dad. We don’t need to be threatened with another lawsuit.”
Alex knew the stipulation was unreasonable, but if he was going to re-create what they’d had in the first article—which was what the magazine claimed they wanted—he would only be able to do so authentically if they were in a natural, unstaged environment and Charlotte wasn’t in professional mode. Plus, he didn’t need any extra witnesses around to see how deeply she’d gotten under his skin.
* * *
“Rule number one,” Charlotte told her daughters almost a week later, making sure she looked each girl in the eye and had her full attention, “is to listen to the grownups at all times.”
“We will,” Elsa squealed in excitement, and Audrey barely nodded before they raced across the ranger station parking lot to climb into the all-terrain vehicle with Commodore and Vic.
Alex lifted his eyebrow at her. “I thought rule number one was no strings attached?”
Heat infused her cheeks and Charlotte struggled to pretend that she didn’t know exactly what he was referencing. She also made a mental note to avoid being alone with Alex the rest of this trip. Her heart and her wobbly knees couldn’t take it.
“I think it’s too late for them.” She nodded toward the foursome. The girls had begged to ride with the older Russell men, which left Charlotte riding in the second ATV with Alex and most of their camping supplies. Originally, Neal had wanted them to re-create the rafting trip, too, but Charlotte decided it was too dangerous for the girls and didn’t want to risk some random act of nature stranding them somewhere again.
Alex didn’t reply to her observation about it being too late or the fact that she wasn’t just talking about their families. Not that anything he could say would make her lingering attraction for him go away. But it was going to be a long two days if they didn’t talk to each other at all.
Their destination was a little-known designated camping area outside the national forest and only accessible on foot—which was out because her daughters were too young to hike—on horseback—unfortunately Charlotte couldn’t ride—or on one of these hopped-up four-wheelers for adrenaline junkies. As Alex started the engine, she tried not to think of the last time she’d ridden in one of these things with him, or what they’d been doing several hours prior to that ride.
Actually, for nearly a week now, she’d tried not to think about Alex Russell at all. Unsuccessfully. The girls talked about him, as well as his father and grandfather, constantly. Kylie and Drew mentioned him every time she turned around. And readers of the online article had posted more comments about that one picture she’d taken of him standing on the boulder fishing than they had about the gourmet preparation of Trouty or the shots of the gorgeous, green scenery.
The ATV bumped over a fallen branch, jostling her enough that her arm knocked into his. The contact blasted a fissure of heat through her tense muscles, making her skin feel as though it was being flash-fired in a scorching skillet. Prior to their night in the tent, she hadn’t been with a man since Mitchell, and she and Alex both knew that their situation was extremely temporary. Charlotte had hoped their first camping trip had been a one-off.
Yet every time she’d seen him since the incident, her mind insisted on recalling every single detail as if it were cataloguing the ingredients of a complicated and decadent dessert recipe. Even when she wasn’t in the same room with him, her body ached for him. And now that she sat just inches away from him, every cell positively cried out for his touch.
“So, you’ve noticed it, too?” Alex asked out of nowhere.
“Noticed what?” Her reaction to him? The way her stomach did its impression of a boiling pot of water every time he was near?
“That my dad and grandpa have gotten pretty attached to your daughters?”
Oh, that. Charlotte had to raise her voice to be heard above the roaring engine. “More like the other way around. I hope Vic and Commodore will let me know if the girls are too much o
f a bother for them.”
“Are you kidding? Dad is one of those quiet types who prefers to privately commune with his surroundings, so Audrey is right up his alley. And Com is in heaven having someone like Elsa asking him every question under the sun. It reaffirms his own belief that he’s smart and important.”
“I just wouldn’t want them to overstay their welcome.” Much like Alex probably thought Charlotte was overstaying hers. In fact, she’d never actually gotten the impression she’d been welcome in the first place and she hated the way the perception took her right back to her childhood, triggering those old issues of abandonment and isolation she’d thought she’d overcome.
“Charlotte, they’re kids. They’re supposed to be curious and adventurous and attention demanding. My family would think it was weird if they were too polite and formal.”
Although he’d just complimented her daughters, she tried not to bristle at the implication that she was the weird one. “I was raised in a home where children were supposed to be seen and not heard, and I promised myself that when I had my own kids, I wouldn’t subject them to the same lonely childhood I had. Unfortunately, old habits die hard. It’s difficult not worry about what others think and I hate being an imposition on anyone.”
“Do you ever get tired of being so damn polite all the time?” His tone held a note of accusation and she folded her arms across her chest defensively—then quickly grabbed on to a handle when they hit another bump.
“I’m getting tired of it right about now,” she mumbled, too low for him to understand over the motor.
“What?” he asked.
She thought about repeating her answer so that he could hear, then remembered that she was better than that. Plus, she knew Alex really wasn’t all that keen to take her and the girls camping again. Neal had told her that he complained about all of the magazine’s ideas for the theme of the article and then made several stipulations. If only her pride had been on the line, rather than the future of her career, she’d have left Idaho several days ago. So who could blame him for being frustrated with the situation?
A Family Under the Stars Page 12