by Bree Cariad
Shaking her head at the thought, she said, “While you finish doing that, I’ll be right back.” Glad she had left the food in the kitchen, she fanned her face once she got there, trying to wish the blush backwards. He was a client. And a man of the community. Drooling over him would be bad, really, really bad.
By the time she got back to the living room with the platter, his clothing lay across the sofa, consisting of piles of sweater vests, a few button-down shirts, and exactly four pairs of chinos. Oh, this man desperately needed help. Turning toward her at her entrance, he reached out and took the platter from her and sat it on the coffee table. As she sat down on the sofa across from his clothing, he took a seat in the armchair between them.
“So, you like sweater vests?” she said lightly as she poured him a glass of lemonade. His laughter bounced through the room and made her smile. There was a wonderful deep timber to his voice and when he laughed, it resonated. She could swear the windows rattled slightly.
“I told you I needed help. Believe it or not, I wasn’t always such a bad dresser. I think there’s some sort of hypnosis that happens in graduate school. Either that, or the intense classes need all the brain power you have and get rid of any fashion sense you may have retained at some point.”
Giggling, she handed him his glass and a small plate of cookies. “So tell me what you are looking for. Professional wardrobe? Or everything?”
“Everything,” he replied, after eating one of the cookies. “This is seriously my entire wardrobe. I would like dress pants and shirts to wear with clients; jeans, shorts, and comfortable clothes for off-hours. And I’m putting myself in your hands because I’m clueless. Went to the mall the other day and I swear every man there had the same expression I did. All those choices were too overwhelming.”
She asked him questions about what he enjoyed doing and made notes. For the most part. She also doodled a little as some of her questions were more to keep him talking than for any pertinent information. He really did have a nice voice. “What are your measurements?” she asked at one point, glad when he handed her a small sheet with them listed. If she would have had to measure him, that would have been a problem.
“How do you want to handle this?” she asked. “Do you want me to send you samples of what I’m thinking? Pictures of clothes I think would look good?”
“Yes, and then give me the bill, I’ll pay for it. In fact, how much of a down-payment do you want on your fee?” He asked it as if just expecting her to know. She gaped at him for a moment, just realizing she had no idea. Jerod looked up and his eyes softened even further. “Are you okay?”
“Um…” She gulped. “I hadn’t even figured out what I would charge,” she admitted, feeling foolish.
“Well, I looked up the prices personal shoppers in the Seattle area charge,” he explained. “I assumed your fee would be similar to theirs.”
“Okay,” she agreed quickly. That would be easier than trying to figure it out herself.
He pulled out his checkbook and wrote a check, handing it over. “This is for fifty percent of your fee. I’ll pay the other fifty percent at the end. Will that work?”
“Sure.”
“Perfect. Was there anything else you needed from me today?”
“Um, I don’t think so. Oh, can I take a couple photos?” Not that she would forget what he looked like, but she thought it would be smart to have them just the same. Once she had taken a few photos of him, from the front, side, and back, he repacked his case.
“I’m going under the assumption here that if this works out well – and I don’t see any reason why it wouldn’t – that you would be willing to help me with each season’s clothes? My sister reminds me constantly that every few months fashion changes and that clothes are not supposed to last five years.”
“Sure. Would love to.”
His smile turned into that warm one that made her feel funny, though not in a bad way, and he picked up his case. Handing her his business card, he walked with her to the front door. “Feel free to call me with any questions. If I don’t answer, it just means I’m with a client, but I’ll get back to you.”
“Thanks, Jerod.”
He paused on his way out of the door and turned back. “Thank you, Camille.” Then, with another warm smile, he turned and left. She watched him walk to his car and slowly closed the door, her heart beating fast for some reason. Walking back into the living room, she cleaned up their dishes and took the platter back into the kitchen where she washed everything and put it away.
Charlotte was preparing dinner when she walked in. How she had stayed out of coming out into the living room, Cami didn’t know. “How did it go?” her mother asked.
“Good. I have all of his information and he really needs my help.”
Charlotte laughed. “Men seem much happier when they don’t have to think about it.”
“Oh, and he paid me already.”
“Really? How much?”
“I don’t know,” Cami admitted with a giggle. “He said he looked up the fee for a personal shopper in Seattle and expected to pay me the same. There’s a check on the coffee table for fifty percent of that. I actually didn’t even think to look at it. Do you think it will be a couple hundred dollars?” That would be amazing. She had never gotten any money at all except her weekly allowance.
“Why don’t you go look to find out?” her mother said in amusement. “Then you can come back and help me with dinner.”
“Okay.” Camille trotted into the living room and picked up the check. As her eyes fell on the amount, she had to look at it ten times before it sunk into her head. As the numbers made sense, she screamed.
“What’s wrong?” Charlotte called, running into the living room.
“Five thousand,” Cami gasped, waving the check. “He paid me five thousand dollars.” Her head pounded as her breath sped up. If he was paying her that much money, he must really expect someone who knew what they were doing. She was just playing at it. “Mom! I can’t do this!”
Strong hands grasped her upper arms and shook lightly. “Yes, you can, Camille. You’re scared, but you have the knowledge for this job. Jerod must be used to working with professionals and so he paid you what he figured you’re worth. And you are worth that money. I know how much time you put into things you enjoy. Now. Take that check upstairs and put it in your nightstand. Then come help me with dinner. Tomorrow, I’ll drive you to the bank so you can deposit it. Move,” she said firmly when Cami just stared at the check.
As much as the money rattled her, Camille had the best three weeks of her life shopping for Jerod. He had been firm that he liked nice clothing and even though his current clothes were not right for him, they had been good quality. When she had finally gathered a group of over one hundred pieces to show him, she put the pictures online and sent him the link.
His response floored her.
“Bringing check for clothes to town tomorrow. Will be there around two. Can you meet me at the Lava Lamp?” The Lava Lamp was one of the few coffee shops in town and she used to spend every day after school there. Even though he hadn’t mentioned which pieces he was interested in, she figured he would give her the list the next day. She quickly sent off a reply email.
As if an added bonus, when she told her father, he just nodded. “You can take the truck.” They hadn’t let her drive herself anywhere since the incident. Knowing he was giving her back that right, she hugged him. As she turned to run upstairs, he added, “And take your cell phone, too.”
Looked like her life was getting back on track.
The Lava Lamp was in a lull as she walked inside a little before two. One of the baristas waved at her and she waved back as she spotted Jerod seated in a corner. As she walked up to him with a small notebook in her hand so she could write down what he was interested in, he rose. “What would you like?” he asked, nodding at the counter.
“I always get a mocha.”
“Be right back.” A few minutes later
, a warm mocha was in front of her and he sipped a black coffee. “I love your choices,” he said without preamble, pulling up her link on his laptop. “I never could have done that. As you included a price list, I added it up and added tax.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a check. “This should cover it. When you bring my wardrobe, I’ll pay you the rest of your fee.” There was a pause before he quietly added, “Once I’m decked out in better clothing, I would love to take you out for a celebratory dinner.”
“Oh, thanks, but you don’t have to do that. I’ve had so much fun doing this.” She sipped from her cup, her eyes staring at the huge check. This man obviously didn’t have issues with spending money. “I’ll order today and everything should be here in a couple weeks.”
“Of course,” he said a little more formally and she wondered why the warmth was just gone from his voice. “I had best be off. I have a client in an hour. Thank you, Miss Covington, for your help.”
Her head came up at his formal use of her name. Something had happened. What was it? What had she missed? “You’re welcome?” Her tone tipped up at the end making it into a question, but she didn’t know what she had done. With a stiff nod, he stood up and quickly left the café. Finishing her mocha, she placed the check into her notebook and slid out of her seat, slowly making her way to her truck. Should she have said something about the money? Oh drat. She probably should have.
After dropping the check off at the bank, she rushed home. She had to apologize, she just wasn’t sure how.
“Mom!” she called as she walked inside, stopping as she spotted her father and another man in the living room. “Sorry. I didn’t realize someone was here.”
“That’s quite all right,” her father said, beckoning her over. “Camille, this is Trever Bingham. Trever, my daughter Camille. His father owns Bingham Cellars.” Bingham Cellars was a winery about twenty miles away her parents were partial to.
“It’s nice to meet you.” Trever was around thirty, with soft auburn hair, green eyes, a goatee and a bit of a cheeky smile. She liked him immediately.
“You too, Camille. Your father has told me about you.” Stalling as she wondered what her father would have said, relief hit her when Trever continued. “He said you’re building quite the little business as a personal shopper.”
“Oh, I’m just beginning.” It pleased her, though, that her father had mentioned it. He must be proud of her. Otherwise he wouldn’t have said a word.
“We all begin somewhere. I’m lucky, I guess. I grew up in the grape-growing business. I’ll take over for my father when he retires. Wine’s in my blood.”
“Merlot or Chardonnay?” she teased and his grin widened.
Before he could respond, Alex cleared his throat. “Your mom’s out back with her flowers. Why don’t you go see if she needs any help?”
“Okay. Nice to meet you, Trever.”
“You too.”
Turning, she had the feeling his eyes followed her from the room.
Charlotte was repotting as she stepped out the back door. “Hi, Mom.”
“Oh, hi, honey. Did everything go fine with Jerod?”
Her meeting Trever had made her forget her mistake but it rushed back to her now. “Mom! I slipped up and I need help in trying to fix it.”
“What happened?”
Cami explained about the coffee and the check. “I should have been more thankful for him paying me up front. Now I’ve insulted him. Mom, what should I do?”
Her mother seemed to be fighting a smile and Cami wasn’t sure why. “I’m not sure that’s why he changed like that.”
“What other reason could it be?”
“Camille, Jerod isn’t from here. True, he knows there are certain rules, but he probably doesn’t understand all of them. He asked you out and you turned him down. That’s probably why he changed the way he spoke to you.”
Blinking in surprise, Cami wasn’t sure what to say. “That was him asking me out?”
Her mother nodded. “I think so.”
“I had no idea.” The gorgeous guy with the gray eyes had asked her out. She had a hard time making sense of it.
“Well, you wouldn’t. Since dating doesn’t really happen in Hyacinth unless you’re already being courted.”
Sighing, Camille nodded, grabbing another pot and some soil. “I’m not even sure where I am in the whole thing anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m eighteen, but except for the guys in June, nobody wants to court me. And I’m not even sure I want to be courted. And yet… I do.” It was a strange polarity she was getting used to. Wanting to and yet not wanting to do something at the same time.
Charlotte smiled. “You’re growing up, honey. As far as dating is concerned, you would need to ask your father about it. He has strong feelings about the courting system and for the most part I do agree with him. Believe me. Dating different guys sucks. I’ve been there.”
Snorting at her mother’s words, Cami smiled back. “Dating sucks?”
“You heard it here first.”
Laughing, Camille helped her mother finish replanting and then went inside to clean up.
Dinner was quiet. Drake looked tired as he picked at his food while her father ate with his normal alacrity. When he cleared his throat, both Camille and Drake looked up. “On Saturday next, we’re having a guest for dinner,” he said gruffly, his eyes darting to Cami. “This doesn’t mean anything, but you should know that Trever Bingham is interested. His family is nice, but they don’t necessarily hold to our values. You need to decide how you feel about that.”
“What does that mean?”
“He knows about our courting system, just like the rest of the valley, but he grew up in a more modern family. They don’t live by discipline. His father is not head of the house; instead his parents share that equally. Trever is a driven young man. He has plans to expand their winery in a huge way. And he will expect his wife to have huge goals as well.”
Before she could grasp the freedom her father was offering her, Drake spoke up. “No!”
Turning in surprise, she was shocked to see her brother’s face. Tears leaked down his cheeks and his lips quivered. “No, Dad! You know Trever’s not who she needs.”
“What do you know about what I need?” she snapped back.
His eyes turned on her and she leaned back in her chair at the intense emotions leaping out of them. “You need order! You need someone you can rely on!”
“Drake,” Alex said firmly, but his son either didn’t hear him or he ignored his father’s warning.
“You need a man to lean on, Cami! One who will bear the burden so you can be you. Cami, you have to marry a guy from Hyacinth!” With each sentence, his voice raised until his body followed and he stood glaring at her.
“I do not!” she found herself shouting back. “What do you know, anyway? You’re just a kid!”
“Enough!” Alex barked and they both jumped, turning to their father slowly. “Drake, we don’t yell at the dinner table. Wait for me in the study. Camille, don’t move.”
Pushing his chair in roughly, Drake glared at her one more time. “I’m just a kid? I’m not the one who tried to kill herself a few months ago because the wrong guy ran away. I’m not the one who lied to everyone around her to keep things quiet. I’m not the one—” his voice broke, “—who’s letting the right guy go now because she’s too stupid to see him.” He turned to stomp out of the room but before he left, he whispered, “Trever isn’t a bad man, Cami, but he’s not strong enough to handle you. He’s just another Damian, don’t you understand that?” Without another word, he left.
Her father cleared his voice, breaking the solemn silence left in her brother’s wake. “Before I spank you, talk.”
Turning back to him, she shook her head. “Why does he hate me?”
His eyes softened and he shook his head. “It’s the exact opposite, Camille. Drake adores and loves you and is terrified that you’ll crash and bur
n again. And that this time, we won’t be there to pick up the pieces.”
“Plus,” Charlotte added gently, “he blames himself for your collapse in July.”
“It wasn’t his fault.”
“He saw you were going downhill, honey. He admitted to us he saw the signs but instead of telling us, he stuck up for his big sister and thought he was helping you by saying nothing. I don’t think he can stay silent anymore after that. If you thought Alexander was protective, it’s nothing in comparison to the way Drake wants to act.”
Closing her eyes, Cami rested her forehead on her fists, unable to believe she had missed that. Her lips itched and she quickly rubbed them. Sure, Drake had stayed away from her those first few weeks home from the hospital, but then he seemed to be back to his normal self. She should have known it was a cover. “I screw everything up,” she whispered.
“Enough,” Alex said firmly. “No, you don’t. You are not accountable for anyone but you and even there, I hold some of that responsibility. You might want to talk to your brother tomorrow. Really talk. Let him get it out. Because he has things to say but has been afraid to voice them. Tonight, he just couldn’t hold back anymore.” Reaching behind him, he pulled down the paddle that hung on the wall near the table. “Stand with your hands on the seat.”
Camille practically leapt from her chair. She needed something to make the emotional pain go away. This should do it. Seeing her brother so upset had hurt more than she expected. Letting either of her siblings down cut her to the core. Turning, she bent over and put her palms squarely on the wood.
The swats fell fast and hard on her rear end. Tears sprang to her eyes, but they weren’t the tears of release that she sought. They were just for the physical pain. When the final shot rang through the air, she found herself gasping and huffing, but the tightness in her chest told her it hadn’t worked. As he put the paddle back, she slid onto her seat, not even wincing at the pain. She felt numb, at least outwardly. Inside, something was raging that she hadn’t known about, she didn’t even understand it. But it was getting closer and closer to the surface and whatever it was terrified her. When it finally blew, what was going to happen?