“Your plans were to watch disgusting reality TV. Do you know how much of that shit is actually scripted?”
Her plump bottom lip peeks out in a pout. “Don’t ruin it for me. I quite enjoy reality TV. I’ll never be able to look at it the same.”
“Maybe we can rain check our little Sutten Mountain adventure?” I ask sarcastically. “And by rain check, I mean never doing it.”
Pippa clicks her tongue before taking a drink of her own coffee. “You aren’t getting out of this. You have five minutes before you need to meet me outside.”
“What about my work?” My argument is futile. I know enough about her to know that this isn’t an argument I’ll win.
“Work can wait!” she muses. The glee on her face can only be because she knows she’s about to torture me for an entire day.
Why did I agree to this again? Surely the guests didn’t need food at the opening this bad.
Regretting ever saying yes to her, I groan. “You aren’t letting me out of this, are you?”
Her eyes twinkle. The light from the floor-to-ceiling windows catches the gold rim around her pupils. “No, I’m not. Tick tock, Camden! You now have four minutes until you have to meet me outside.”
With that, she pretty much skips out of the gallery. I can’t see where she disappeared to, but I’m confident she hasn’t traveled very far. She wouldn’t miss the opportunity to torture me for a day.
I walk out the door fifteen minutes later just to piss her off, not at all prepared for whatever she’s about to put me through in this town.
14
PIPPA
Camden looks incredibly uncomfortable sitting in the passenger seat of my old truck. Despite looking completely out of place, he looks pretty freaking good with his dark hair being tousled by the wind. I couldn’t resist rolling the windows down, knowing it’d probably piss him off to ride around town with the wind caressing our cheeks.
There’s no better feeling than traveling down the winding roads of Sutten with the wind in your hair and the cold air tickling your skin. But I believe that because I grew up here. He grew up with dirty streets and air pollution. He probably never drove around with the windows down in New York. I wonder if he ever drove at all.
“Can you drive?” I blurt, risking a glance over at him. I have to raise my voice to speak over the wind.
He’s as far away as he can physically manage in the truck. The look he shoots my way is scathing. “What the hell goes through your brain at all times?”
I can’t fight my smile. “I don’t think you really want to know that. I’ve thought about killing you often.”
“That makes two of us.”
“So?” I continue, turning onto a side street. “Can you drive, or is that not a thing where you’re from?”
“You say ‘where I’m from’ like New York is the worst possible place to live.”
“It’s not the worst, but I can’t say I see the appeal.”
From the corner of my eye, I can see his finger running over his top lip. He seems to be deep in thought with the gesture and the slight furrow of his eyebrows. “Tell me why New York doesn’t seem appealing to you.”
His voice is demanding, leaving no room for questions. Typically that would annoy me, but right now, it doesn’t. It intrigues me. I want to know why he cares about my opinion of where he lives.
“It just seems so…crowded.” I’m so distracted by his questioning that I almost miss my turn. I try not to, but I have to slam on the brakes before I miss it. Feeling his brooding scowl aimed right at me, I pretend to pay close attention to the road.
Silly mistake.
He shockingly makes no comment, instead choosing to stay focused on our conversation. “Something tells me it gets pretty crowded here during ski season.”
He isn’t wrong. Once November hits, Sutten gets very packed. But it’s just people on vacation. They’re happy and carefree. New York City seems like a different kind of packed. Full of people who live there and aren’t happy with their lives. They’re lost in the hustle of everyday life. It doesn’t feel like that here in Sutten—at least to me. I try to think of a way to describe the difference to Camden to make him understand.
I pull into a crowded parking lot and park at the very back. Before I look over at Camden, I feel him already looking at me. He’s waiting for an answer, and I guess I’ll just have to do my best to put what I’m thinking into words.
“I think there are different kinds of crowded,” I begin, turning my body so I face him completely. “In my mind, I think of it this way… You can have a huge group of people who are giddy and ready to begin their vacation. They’re away from work and the sorrows of everyday life. They get to just experience life in the moment and not think about anything else. And then you have another group of people. They’re having to push themselves every day of their life to make ends meet. They’re tired and looking forward to the weekend so they can just take one minute for themselves. Both are groups of people. Both could seem crowded when you’re standing in the middle of them. But which group would you rather be in?”