Rosemary needs to leave. We’re supposed to be closing in ten minutes, and she’s sitting at a table with a basket of knitting supplies in front of her, gossiping about everything that’s been happening in Sutten.
Normally, I love it when she comes in and talks with me while I close the cafe. She’s hilarious, and I love to get the inside scoop on who I went to high school with, about my parents’ friends, and everything else. I’m not too proud to admit that I’m an extremely nosy person. It’s not my fault I feel the need to know everything about everyone at any given time.
I like gossip. Sue me.
It’s just really unfortunate timing that she chose today of all freaking days to plant her butt in one of the chairs, expecting to stay well after closing.
“I heard that Timothy and Marietta are getting a divorce,” Rosemary comments, staring at the knitting needles in her hand. She’s working on some hideous sweater for one of her grandchildren—not that I’d ever tell her the mustard yellow with neon green stripes is horrid. If she asks, I’ll tell her it’s the most beautiful sweater in the world.
“I don’t believe that,” I reply anxiously, wiping down the front counter for the third time. Everything is ready for Camden to come by—except the fact that Rosemary is lingering.
Even her coffee sits only half drunk in front of her. I don’t know how she drinks coffee this late and still manages to sleep, but it’s none of my business. She can do whatever she wants as long as she pours that coffee in a to-go cup and skedaddles.
“I heard it on very good authority that they were. Apparently, she had an affair with someone from out of town.” Rosemary’s good authority is useless. I love Sutten. I love living in a small town. But the rumors can get out of hand quickly.
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” I answer, my eyes looking toward the door. Any moment, Camden could walk through them.
Talking about rumors flying, if Rosemary sees him come in here, then Camden and I will be outed to this entire town before we even get the chance to start our first date.
I don’t really mind if people know. But I don’t want them asking questions because I can’t give any answers. Camden and I aren’t boyfriend and girlfriend. But we aren’t enemies anymore either. We never were really friends. Where does that leave us? I’d like to figure it out before Rosemary blabs about it to every single person in this town.
“How’s your brother doing? He still sulking about our sweet Marigold being in Chicago?”
I nod while wiping down the espresso machine. “Oh, that I can actually answer on good authority. He’s a mess.”
“He’s always loved her hard. I remember when you girls left for college. Boy oh boy, was he a fiery disaster with you both gone.”
“Yeah,” I mutter under my breath. Looking back, I should’ve known something was going on between Cade and Mare. She’d always had a crush on him, that I knew. I just really didn’t think about it being possible he’d fall for her, too. When Mare and I moved to Chicago, she was so quiet at first. Quieter than normal. I thought it was because she missed her dad. Missed Sutten. But now I know it was because she and Cade were going through a breakup.
I’ve been asked a lot if I knew they were together, and I really didn’t know. Looking back, I don’t know how I didn’t, but I also trusted both of them. It was my brother and my best friend. I’d figured they’d tell me if something was happening. But I don’t blame them for not telling me. Sometimes you just want to keep things private. There’s nothing wrong with that.
“When will Miss Marigold be coming back?” Her knitting needles click against one another as she works hard on a row of the ugly sweater.
“Hopefully soon. I don’t think she’ll be able to stay away from Sutten for too long this time.” She’d texted me last night to check in before going back into her writing cave. The way she was talking, I’d be shocked if she didn’t have the first flight back to Colorado booked the moment she turns in her manuscript and finishes whatever meetings they need her at.
“That’s really for the be—” Rosemary stops midsentence. I follow her gaze until we’re both gaping at Camden opening the door to the cafe.
He looks hot as hell, dressed in a button-down shirt and a pair of khakis. But that isn’t what catches my attention. It’s the enormous bouquet of roses in his arms. It’s the most massive bouquet I’ve ever seen—and they’re for me.
Rosemary gasps as the door shuts behind him. “I knew it!” She gawks, staring at Camden in shock. “You’re getting freaky with him!”
I close my eyes, wanting to disappear from the face of the planet. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. I groan, letting one eye pop open to find Camden looking between Rosemary and me, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.
“Excuse me?” He coughs.
“You’re penetrating our dear, sweet Pippa, aren’t you?”
Jesus. I don’t know what’s worse. Her saying “getting freaky with it” or using the word penetrating. They’re both terrible—horrific—and the pink tinge to Camden’s cheeks tells me he agrees.
Rosemary’s words are so out of pocket that she’s even making cool, calm, and collected Camden blush.
“Well, are you going to answer me?” Rosemary asks. She pulls her glasses down her nose, her eyebrows raised on her wrinkled forehead, waiting for Camden to answer.
He looks at me, clearly not knowing what to do in this situation. Too bad I have nothing for him. This is what nightmares are made of. I take back every single thing I ever said about loving living in a small town. This part is mortifying. Having people invested enough in your life to pry into it even when it’s none of their business.
Maybe this is my karma for being nosy.
Maybe it’s hearing Rosemary continue to fire questions at Camden in rapid succession—using words from the human language that should never ever be used to describe sex.
“How long have the two of you been fornicating?”
“Are you making sure to wrap your willy?”
It keeps getting worse and worse until I hold my hands in the air. “Rosemary! Can we not?”
She places her knitting supplies in her lap, pinning me with a disappointed-grandmother-type look. “I’m just asking some questions, dear.”
I look at the clock above the door. “Looks like we’re closed now. How about I help you gather your things? I bet Harold is waiting for you at home!”
She gives me an incredulous look. “No. You know darn well he’s sleeping in his recliner, pretending to watch TV.” She looks back to Camden. “You listen very closely, young man.” Camden’s eyes widen at the way Rosemary’s voice turns stern. “If you hurt Pippa, I might just kill you. I’m old enough I could handle a few years in prison before dying there. She’s gone through too much, and I don’t know much about you New Yorkers. You hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am.” His voice catches for a second. Is he actually scared of her?
I try to hide a grin despite the mortification seeping through my veins. This is too funny. I think sweet, old Rosemary terrifies Camden.
“I won’t hurt her,” he promises, his eyes finding mine for a split second.
Damn. I really like him. He’s cute right now, fumbling over words under the scrutiny of Rosemary, and I’m eating it up. I like seeing this vulnerable side of him.
I’m starting to like a lot of things about him. A lot.
“I best be going now,” Rosemary mutters, acting as if it was her idea to leave, as if I wasn’t just begging her to disappear two minutes ago.
I try to help her, but she swats my hand away. Camden stays frozen in place. These kinds of encounters probably don’t happen where he’s from. Everyone is too busy with their own life to worry about yours. That isn’t the case here in Sutten. Not even close.
Rosemary stops halfway to the door, her wise eyes bouncing between Camden and me. “One more thing before I go. You make sure to use that condom, you got it? Or I can ask Dr. Boone if you’re on birth control, Pippa?”
A blush creeps over my cheeks just when I thought I’d gotten rid of the flush from the last outlandish thing she said. This is another terrible thing about a small town. We all share the same doctor, who hopefully wouldn’t share details about my health—like my current birth control status.
“You have a great night,” I squeak, pretty much pushing Rosemary out the door. I’d much prefer to forget this encounter ever happened—and for Camden to wipe it from his memory as well.
“Good night, dear,” Rosemary calls over her shoulder, completely unbothered.
When the door shuts behind her, Camden looks at me, his eyes wide. “Well, that was an experience I never thought I’d have.”
I let out a long, controlled breath. “Can we pretend that never happened?”
His nice shoes make a smacking sound against the floor as he walks to me, holding the flowers out between us. “Happy first date.” He says the words with a hint of a smile on his lips.
They’re stunning. There are too many of them to even count. When I try to hold them, it takes two hands to even grab them because the bouquet is so massive.
“No one’s ever gotten me flowers,” I whisper, regretting it the moment the words leave my lips. He doesn’t need to know that although I’ve dated, no one has really even attempted to sweep me off my feet. I once had a boy give me a dandelion in the fourth grade, but other than that, there haven’t been any surprise flower deliveries or flowers on the first date.
“I’d have bought you more if the florist had any left.”
“Did you buy Ms. Lori out of roses?”
“I did.”
“You didn’t have to.”
He reaches out and traces my jaw with his thumb. “I wanted to.”
My heart thumps erratically in my chest, like it wants to jump right out of it and nestle right into his. It’s happened so fast that I don’t think too deeply into it. Things have moved quickly as we’ve run straight from arguing all the time to flowers on a first date. But I’m happy at this very moment, so I don’t want to dwell on thinking of moments that haven’t passed yet or even focus on moments that have already come to pass.
I want to think about right here and right now and whatever unexpected thing is happening with Camden.
“I love them,” I tell him, leaning into his touch.
“I thought about you all fucking day,” he admits, running his thumb along my bottom lip.
“Good.”
“Did you think about me?” He tries to lean in, but the flowers get in the way. He lets out a grunt of disapproval, swiping the flowers from my hand and holding them at his side so nothing stands between us any longer.
“Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.”
“My guess is you did.” He leans in and places a quick, chaste kiss against my lips. It seems more special than the long, heated ones we’ve shared for some reason.
“I guess you’ll never know,” I tease, running my hands up his back. His muscles tighten underneath his shirt from my touch.
“God, you’re so frustrating.” He kisses me again, this time swiping his tongue along the seam of my lips. “I fucking love it.”
His tongue caresses mine, and suddenly, I’m melting into him. My fingers clutch his shirt to stay steady, the power from his kiss making me light-headed. He knows how to kiss. Expertly. So good that I wouldn’t tell him this, but I dreamed about kissing him all day. I thought about all the things that could happen tonight. I’d messed up multiple coffee orders because I couldn’t think of anything but him.
Finally, we both pull back to get some air. It feels hot in the cafe, despite me keeping the AC at a low temp. Maybe it’s because my mind flashes with the memories of what happened here the other night—right up against the window behind him.
The hand of his not holding the flowers reaches down to hold my hand in his. “So what did you have planned for us?”
