Page 8 of Harvest Brew With the Mountain Man
At sixteen, I had the biggest crush on my brother’s best friend. At eighteen, I thought myself to be in love with him. Stupid teenager bullshit we feed ourselves. He got distant, and I left for college. Looking back, I did care for West Hunter, but it was a mix of familial love and the idea of romantic love.
But watching him grow into the man he is, I knew I’d never settle for less. That was until I grew lonely, and Brian was one hell of an actor. Charming, charismatic. If I’m honest with myself, he reminded me of West.
I stare at my reflection, focused on nothing but the memory of my eighteenth birthday. My parents invited anyone they saw in town all month. The backyard was decked with lights, balloons, so much food, and drinks. Half the Hunters showed, including his parents.
West walked in with my brother, and I’ll never forget the way he paused mid-step and looked at me. For the first time, I felt he saw me, not just his best friend’s little sister, but the woman I was becoming. Then he ignored me all day and stayed away for weeks.
That one look haunted my dreams. His keeping his distance haunted my nightmares. Perhaps, a still emotionally immature Camille was kind of in love with West Hunter.
It’s been eight years. I’ve only had glimpses of him the few times I’ve come home for the holidays since. Ironic how significant events in your life don’t come to mind until years later.
I was a senior in college when I came home for Christmas, and I saw him. In town, with a girl on his arm. He stopped her on the sidewalk and kissed her. My heart and a naive dream broke that day.
I returned to Silver Lake after the New Year and soon after met Brian.
I shake my head at that revelation.
“Stupid, impulsive Camille,” I whisper.
I stare at the hooded sweatshirt, debating. I fear that once I put this on, the teenage girl with the unrealistic crush will rear her delusional head again. Absurd if I say it out loud, but in my head, I believe it.
“I never said I was smart,” I mutter, grabbing the soft, well-worn fabric and putting it on.
Pine, sandalwood, and something earthy, like fresh grass after a morning shower, hit me all at once.
“Damn it. I’m gonna end up stealing this,” I confess to myself.
I brace myself with a fortifying breath before I head back to his office. West is at his desk, typing something into the computer until he sees me and freezes mid-type. Those rare eyes pan down my frame, and it sends an automatic shiver down my spine.
Oh God, please don’t look at me like that, West.
I’m eighteen again. It’s the look. The one that’s haunted me.
He clears his throat and abruptly stands.
“So, here’s the plan,” he starts. “You’re staying with me tonight. Until we know where the MC is, we can’t risk them finding you at your parents.”
I would argue, but he’s right.
“Does Styx even know you were on your way home? Your parents expecting you?” he asks.
“No. It was supposed to be a surprise.”
He nods. “That works in our favor then. Tomorrow, when we wake up, we’ll decide how to move forward. Is that okay?”
“You don’t have to get involved, West. I hadn’t meant to drag you into this.”
He steps from around the desk and stops right in front of me. I crane my neck back to look up at his six-foot-two stature. Even all grown up, this man is tall as hell for my five-foot-three ass.
“Goodness, Nyx. Your ass is still tiny,” he chuckles.
“I was just thinking how your ass is still giant.”
He grins, and there goes my vagina doing a happy dance.Trouble, trouble, trouble.
He gets serious again. “You may not have meant to fall into my arms in my bar?—,”
“I didn’t fall into your arms, West.”
