Page 50 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bargain

“Knowing Pops as well as I do, he’s probably up to no good.”

Her mouth twists into a grimace. “That’s my worry.”

If I didn’t know she was half joking, I might feel the need to convince her that Pops would never do anything to put Davey in danger—a promise I can make now that he’s back to his old self. But Camille understands who Pops is, and she trusts him as much as I do.

So, I don’t have to.

Still, I can’t stop myself from reaching out and sliding my hand across her lower back. “They’ll be fine.” Her eyes cut from them over to me, a spark of something in them that I can’t quite place. “Dinner smells amazing, by the way.”

She shakes her head slightly and smiles. “Oh, thank you.”

“What did you make?”

I had every intention of coming in, cleaning up, and helping her with dinner, as has become part of our nightly ritual. The two of us moving around the kitchen easily, like we belong here together. But tonight, I couldn’t bring myself to face her right away after what she saw.

Now, with her standing beside me, looking so beautiful with her hair twisted up at the back of her head and that single strand that never seems to want to stay put hanging across her cheek, I realize it’s probably a good thing we weren’t in this kitchen together.

My inability to keep from touching her, even as simply as I do now with my hand resting gently on her back, is leading me down a road that will only end with me even more broken than I am now.

Camille clears her throat. “Um…ratatouille.”

“Ratatouille?”

She nods with a tilted smile. “My grandmother was French on my mom’s side and used to make it for my mom. Then, my mom made it for me growing up. It was kind of like what chicken soup is for other people, I guess. One of our comfort foods, and when I saw they had eggplant at the store today while I was in town, I had the strongest craving for it.”

I recline slightly in my chair to look up at her easier, my hand still pressed lightly against her in a way I know it shouldn’t be. “You don’t talk about your family much.”

Her back stiffens under my palm, and she slides away from me, heading to the counter where a loaf of bread sits, waiting to be cut.

Pops turns an ear, clearly listening to the conversation even while he tries to still pay attention to Davey, who is now talking about Rocky, the young calf who has become his “best friend.”

In all the time we’ve known each other, I don’t think I’ve ever heard Camile mention her family other than to say they were all gone. Given her reaction to my observation, it seems it’s a sore subject I maybe shouldn’t have brought up.

I start to think she’s not going to respond, but then she gives me a sad look over her shoulder. “I never knew my dad. My mom died when I was twenty-two.”

No matter how much time has passed, I can still feel the pain saying those words causes her. “I’m sorry.”

She offers a shrug, as if it isn’t a big deal. And that issolike Camille to try to downplay her own feelings to make everyone else more comfortable. “She didn’t take very good care of herself. It was one of the things that always drove me to want to be a nurse, actually. She had high blood pressure, diabetes, and a handful of other issues, but no matter what I did, I just couldn’t get her to understand how important it was to follow doctor’s orders and stay vigilant.”

I cross my arms over my chest and glare at Pops. “I understand the feeling.”

He turns his head slowly to meet my gaze and offers me an annoyed huff. “I’m as healthy as a horse.”

Camille snorts a laugh and steps between us, sliding the bread onto the table. “While I can attest to the fact that you have decent blood pressure and strong general vitals, without actuallyseeingDoc, there are very few things I can actually test you for or monitor, old man.”

Pops leans back in his chair, puffing out his chest. “I’m fine. Whatever you two are shooting me up with seems to be working.”

She pats him on the shoulder. “B12. When you say, ‘what we’re shooting you up with,’ it makes it sound like we’re giving you heroin.”

He snorts incredulously. “How do I know you’re not?”

I share a look with Camille before staring him down. “You’d be feeling alotbetter and then alotworse.”

Pops chuckles low. “True.”

Davey’s gaze bounces between all of us, his forehead wrinkling. “What’s hair-oh-in?”

Shit.

---