Tempt Our Fate (Sutten Mountain, #2)(66)

“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?”