Page 27 of Bad Boy Bachelor Christmas
She giggled. “I’m Cami, by the way.”
“Winter Dodson.”
“Nice to meet you, Winter. Unique name. I like it.”
My parents had named me Winter because I was born on December twenty-first, the first day of winter. Originally, they were going to name me Sarah Dean, paying tribute to my grandfather on my dad’s side with the middle name, but Winter materialized minutes after I was born and it started to snow.
“Thank you,” I said.
My burger came up from the kitchen, and Cami made her rounds through the diner topping off coffees and dropping off meals and bills while I ate. The fries were incredible, possibly better than any I’d ever had, and by the time I was done eating, my pants felt a tad too tight and I was already daydreaming about taking my bra off the second I got back to the cabin.
But I had more shopping to do.
“Do you know of any good places in town where I can buy outdated Christmas decorations?” I asked Cami as I paid my bill. “I need things that are kind of 1990.”
She pursed her lips. “There’s a flea market, thrift store type place about a mile outside of town. Maple Hill Flea and Thrift. It’s kind of a mishmash of everything under the sun, so you have to be in the mood to really pick through things, but that’s probably your best bet.”
“Could you give me directions?”
“I’m off in fifteen. Do you want to go together?”
Heck yes I did. North was mediocre company at best, and after being here for a week, I was in desperate need of companionship. I was used to being surrounded by like-minded people back on my campus. There was always something going on or some juicy gossip to share. I felt kind of isolated on the farm and in my little cabin—not ungrateful, just a bit lonely.
“I’ll drive,” Cami said when I took her up on her offer.
She’d been right about the flea market. If you wanted to find something worth buying, you had to be willing to sift through it all like you were looking for a single grain of black sand on a white-sand beach. Lucky for me, I was willing. The hunt was part of the thrill, especially when you found that certain undetermined thing you didn’t know you were looking for until you discovered it.
While we shopped, Cami told me about the first time she met North.
“I was little. Like, really little,” she said, gesturing with one hand on her hip to indicate how short she’d been at the time. I assumed five or six years old. “North was a teenager. We met at a huge Christmas party at his family’s estate. Marge had invited my mother and me, and all the kids were allowed to play in this glamorous room at the house. All I remember was the giant TV on the wall. The biggest one I’d ever seen. North was flirting with a girl his age, much to the great displeasure of all the other young girls who had their eye on him. He’s always been a hot commodity.”
I spoke before my brain caught up to my words. “He told me the other night that he was married. And that he lost his wife.”
Cami paused in front of an old kid’s winter sled with red trim. “He told you that?”
I nodded. “It came up naturally in conversation. Well, as naturally as one can bring up being widowed, I suppose. We were talking about kids.”
Cami frowned. “Wow, I’m shocked he’d say anything to you about Veronica at all. He hasn’t been the same since she died. None of us saw it coming, least of all North, and as soon as he lost her, he retreated into that big house. The only few people who’ve really stayed close to him have been Marge and his friend Justin. And maybe a couple of the house staff.”
I felt a deep, tugging, pulling need to ask Cami how Veronica had died, but I held my tongue. It really wasn’t my business, and it certainly wasn’t right for me to go behind his back and find out from someone other than North. If he wanted me to know, he could tell me.
But it sounded like it had come out of nowhere.
I couldn’t imagine how hard that would be. He was in his early thirties or so. And he’d lost her a few years ago? They must have been on the cusp of starting their lives together.
So many dreams gone in the blink of an eye.
Suddenly his stoic nature made a lot more sense to me. He wasn’t a brooding grump.
He was a grieving man who’d lost it all and was picking his way back to the surface.
Maybe I needed to show him a little more grace.
CHAPTER13
NORTH
Justin frowned skeptically at the lopsided, less than full Christmas tree in front of us. It had a dramatic lean and was barely as tall as he was.
