"You'll get him back. His parents just died. People mourn in different ways. Imagine having all that pressure right after your parents died to basically move on like nothing happened." I nodded, but sympathizing with him wasn't going to make this any easier.
"He picked a horrible time to get back to nature. Winter in the mountains will probably send him running back here before anything I tell him does."
"What time are you heading out?"
"Morning, so I have enough time to go and get back. Brett considers this something of a family emergency, and a snow storm's supposed to blow through there this weekend, so the sooner, the better."
"Are you nervous?"
"No," I said. She narrowed her eyes at me.
"Nat?"
"What?" she looked at me with a grin on her face. "Oh my god."
"No. Shut up," I said, feeling my face get hot.
"You like him, don't you?"
"He's a spoiled brat who doesn't care what his selfish choices are going to mean for hundreds of people," I said petulantly.
"He doesn't have to be a good person for you to think he's cute."
"It doesn't matter. That's not the reason I have to talk to him."
"Are you nervous you're going to be with him all alone in the mountains like that? Nobody for miles?" she goaded. "You're into that, right? Hairy outdoorsmen who can build homes and kill elk with their bare hands."
"I hate you," I said, rolling my eyes. She laughed. Cameron was easy to look at, but if she thought that was what I wanted…she was absolutely right. I hadn't had anything serious since my last boyfriend. Just some dates that didn't get anywhere. No matter how I felt though, it was off the table. It wouldn't even be right, going after him at a time like this. He had just lost his parents, and it didn't matter how put together he seemed on the outside. He was hurting, and taking advantage of him wanting comfort or distraction would have just been wrong.
"I've seen what he looks like. I get it," she said. I rolled my eyes. She was a serial dater. Guys just found her somehow, but in all the time I'd known her, she had never really dated anyone steadily. Not her style, and I could respect that. She was twenty-six, so she had an excuse. That, and time. I was older than her by two years, and I had plans for what I'd wanted by the time I turned thirty. A steady relationship had been one of them. Of course, it wasn't my first priority, but a partner would have been nice. Cameron Porter was my project. He was cute, but broody billionaire's son wasn't my type, even if he had beautiful hair and I wanted to run my fingers through it.
"I couldn't take advantage of a man in mourning."
"Mm-hmm," she said, smirking. "Strictly business between you two then?"
"Yes," I said tersely.
"Do you want me to do your hair tomorrow before you leave?" she asked. I nodded. I had been meaning to have my bangs trimmed anyway. No, it had nothing to do with the fact that I was seeing Cameron. A fresh blowout was just a nice little confidence boost. It felt good to feel like you looked good.
"Yes, please. Could you trim my bangs back down?"
"No, Natalie, we're growing those out for the winter," she said. Were we? I laughed. A lot of the time, I sat in her chair and just let her do her thing. As long as I didn't lose my length, I trusted her completely. Cameron wouldn't notice if I got my hair done, but that wasn't the point. I'd need all the confidence I could muster. Failure to get him back would mean... I hardly knew what, but I knew it wouldn't be good. Was my job at stake too if I couldn't get him back? Who could say, but I wasn't willing to take that bet.
Chapter Thirteen
Cameron
I swung the ax splitting the log almost clean down the middle. I swung again, and the two pieces fell on either side of the chopping block. It had been a few hours since I had gotten up. I had waited for the fog to clear before coming out to get some more wood. I was going through a little more each day; the temperature was dropping faster than I had anticipated. I had a woodpile that I added to every day, along with splitting logs to use in the cabin. I had mostly gotten the hang of it. It had become part of my daily routine. The repetitive movements were great for letting me think. It was so quiet out there; any little sound caught my attention.
I stopped, hearing something. I frowned, straightening up, seeing a car drive up to the cabin. I didn't know whether there were any cabins past mine, and this wasn't really how I wanted to find out. Whoever was in there was going to do us both a favor by realizing they made a mistake and turning their car around.
It couldn't be Brett, could it? No, it wasn't his car. I didn't recognize the car at all. It was a sedan, which meant coming up here on that road must have sucked, but you know what? Maybe I wasn't far out enough. I put the ax down and headed towards the house, standing at the foot of the porch. The car stopped, and I watched as the driver's side opened.
It was her.
"Cameron?" she called, walking up. I couldn't believe it. Brett had betrayed me. He was the only person I had told where I was, so she had to have heard it from him. What was going on between those two? I didn’t want to think he was lying to his wife with her, but the other option was they were working together, trying to get me to go back and sit behind dad’s old desk like he wanted me to. Well, it wasn’t going to happen. Both of them were wasting their time. Of all the people I would have wanted to see up here... I wasn't mad, but she had been neither expected nor invited, so what was I supposed to do? Welcome her in with open arms?
This girl just didn't know when to quit, did she? She was in a parka, layered over a trench coat and that over a sweater. She had come prepared for the cold. Her hood was down though, and her hair was in loose, golden waves. Everything she had on was white and pink. With her hair and clothes and the white snow, she looked kind of angelic. Her lips were red, and she was wearing boots with a heel on them. Who the hell wore... no, of course, she was wearing that; she always looked like she'd stepped off a damn runway. She wasn't here to stay. She wasn't about to pick up an ax and help me out with the woodpile.