Page 55 of You're So Vine
“What’s this?” Jackson’s all ears.
“Nate got seriously iron deficient,” says Shelby. “Fainted—”
“In a manly fashion,” Nate interjects.
“Mom called it the day before,” Shelby goes on. “Said he needed a good steak.”
And Lee Armstrong needs a stake through the heart. She’s a succubus, and she’s stolen my man.
Jackson mistakes my sour look for being sad about this medical talk. He shuffles his chair closer, so he can put his arm around my shoulder and give me a squeeze.
“Eat your spicy pickle,” he says. “It’ll cure anything.”
I can’t help but smile. And I don’t move away. It’s quite comforting having Jackson’s arm around me. He’s the human equivalent of a weighted blanket. I don’t even mind that he’s stuffing a sandwich in his face with his other hand.
Shelby reaches over and opens Nate’s sandwich, so she can purloin the pickle. Nate shakes his head.
“What’s mine is yours, husband,” she says, and piles the extra pickle on her own sandwich. “Don’t fight it.”
“Pickles, sure,” says Nate, “but I refuse to share your heartburn.”
“Might not be heartburn,” Shelby warns. “Maybe take a match to light when you come up to bed.”
Jackson guffaws. Really, he does—a big, hearty explosion of laughter. Shelby starts to laugh, too, and bits of sandwich fall out of her mouth. Nate’s still shaking his head but he’s smiling. The humor is completely contagious, and now I’m laughing, too. I lean toward Jackson and we both sort of collapse onto each other.
Which, of course, is when Cam walks in.
ChapterEighteen
CAM
Imight have mentioned before that when Nate arrived to manage Flora Valley Wines, he and I didn’t exactly hit it off. Nate told me later he was jealous of how fond Shelby was of me, and that prompted some incivility on his part, which he apologized for.
Got to admit, I couldn’t figure why he had any reason to be jealous; a blind man could have seen how Shelby felt about him. But right this minute, Nate, I take back any criticism I ever had of you. Being jealous turns you into a crazy person. A chest-beating, Tarzan-yodeling maniac who wants to tear a person limb from limb. One person in particular. If you can’t guess who, you haven’t been paying attention.
“Cam!”
Shelby greets me first. She’s swallowing a mouthful of sandwich, so it’s a little muffled. “Where have you been?”
She doesn’t sound too stern, but when I came in, everyone was in fits of laughter, the kind it’s hard to stop.
Nate’s expression is less amused. Waiting to hear what I’ve got to say for myself.
All the way on the drive back, I rehearsed what I’d say. How I’d apologize to everyone, but particularly Ava, for my shitty, immature behavior.
But now, I’m feeling indignant, likeI’mthe victim here. It’s not my behavior that’s questionable, it’s theirs. You know who I mean – Jerkson and Ava. He’s basically embracing her and she’s letting him. All my intentions to apologize fly out the window, helped along by the toe of my boot.
“I went to see your mom,” I tell Shelby.
Because I have one eye on Ava, I see her immediately stiffen. And the jealous maniac who’s taken me over twists the screw another notch.
“I was worried about her.”
But it’s not Ava who looks upset. It’s Shelby.
“Why? Is she okay? What’s wrong?”
Shit. What an idiot I am. It wasn’t that long ago that Shelby’s dad died, and she’ll be extra anxious about her mother. I’ve just triggered her grief and worry. For no good reason except petty spite. I’m an idiot and an asshole.
