Chapter Twenty-One

The next week passed quickly. Kristen stayed busy baking and Cameron with his classes. She hadn’t brought up the possibility of him leaving for Scotland, and he hadn’t offered.

One Friday right after the lunch crowd left, the bell rang on the café door, and Kristen looked up to see Mrs. Johnson.

“I wonder what kind of gossip she’s spreading today,” Skye whispered from Kristen’s side.

Kristen grinned. “Hello, Mrs. Johnson, what can I get for you today?”

“A moment of your time, dear Kristen.” Mrs. Johnson patted her gray hair secured in a bun.

Kristen frowned but nodded. “Be right back,” she said to Skye before joining Mrs. Johnson at one of the tables.

“Is there a problem?” Kristen sat down across from her.

“There could be, dear.” Mrs. Johnson’s hand fluttered to the table. “I understand you’re seeing the oldest McMillan boy.”

“Cameron, yes.” Kristen tilted her head, wondering where this was going.

“Well, dear, I would rethink that.”

“Excuse me?” This woman did not just tell her to stop seeing Cameron.

“I know you’ve only been in our community for a short time, and many admire Cameron for his teaching position, but his other activities concern people.”

Kristen frowned, and her stomach tightened in a knot of fear. “Other activities?”

“You know about his involvement with that…sex club?” Mrs. Johnson whispered, looking around to see if anyone was listening.

“Mrs. Johnson—”

“You did know about it, didn’t you, dear?” Her face lined with concern.

“Yes, I did.” Kristen took a deep breath. “What Cameron does is his business.”

“But, my dear, it can affect your business.”

“What?” Her spine stiffened. “Are you implying the people of Grant would boycott my café because I’m seeing Cameron?”

“It’s possible, dear. I just want you to be prepared. I certainly couldn’t, in good conscience, continue to support a business where the owner is into kink.” Mrs. Johnson stood up and marched out of the café.

Kristen was stunned. She’d finally made headway with her old fears of what people thought of her, of living up to other’s expectations, and now this. A tremor shook her body. Fears of losing everything reared its ugly head. But she was stronger now and not so willing to roll over. No, she wouldn’t give into this. She stood up and went behind the counter.

“All okay?” Skye asked.

“Fine. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

“Okay, Mary Lewis just called. She wants to know if she can get six dozen cookies in two hours,” Skye called out from the café.

“Sure. Ask her what kind.” Kristen shook her head to dispel Mrs. Johnson’s words. The café was doing fine.

She got to work on the cookies as soon as Skye had told her what Mary wanted. The cookies were all ready and boxed up when Mary Lewis walked through the door in her daily hat and flowered dress.

“Hi Mary, I’ve got everything ready for you,” Kristen said. She’d sent Skye on a break and was manning the counter.

“Thanks, Kristen.”

Kristen sat the boxes on the counter. “Thirty dollars even.” She took the money and gave Mary her change. “Thank you for your business.”

Instead of picking up the boxes, Mary hesitated. “Kristen, I don’t know if you know, but Mrs. Johnson has been saying some not so nice things lately.”

She sighed. “She was in here this morning.”

“She’s spouting off about you and Cameron being an item and his involvement at Decadence.”

Kristen’s stomach clenched. “I don’t know what to say.” She refused to defend herself, because there was nothing to defend against.

“You don’t need to say anything. What you and Cameron do is your business; you’re both adults. I just thought you should know.” Mary picked up her boxes and left.

Kristen slumped against the counter. Well, that just sucked. What was she going to do?

“Hey,” Skye said, and Kristen jumped. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Would you mind if I left early?”

“No, go ahead.” Kristen looked at the clock. It was almost four, and the place was empty. “Oh the heck with it. Let’s just close up early today.”

She needed some down time. She’d been so busy with the café, her relationship with Cameron, and the Highland games, she could use a night off.

Skye looked startled but began helping Kristen close up. Within thirty minutes, they had the place cleaned up, everything put away, and the money in the safe.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Skye waved as she went out the back door. Kristen locked the door behind her.

She really should do some baking, but between Mrs. Johnson’s veiled threat and Cameron’s possible departure, her heart wasn’t in it. She trudged up the steps to her apartment, flopped down on the sofa, and turned on the TV. A few hours vegging in front of the television would make her feel better. It had to.

****

A week later, Kristen stood at the counter and sighed. She was a coward. She hadn’t talked to Cameron yet about what Mrs. Johnson had said. Heck, she hadn’t mentioned it to anybody. Instead, she had let it stew in her brain. Cameron had been prepping for finals, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t talk to him. This was all on her. Now, finals at the college were in full swing, and while they’d had a morning rush, now, it was pretty quiet.

It would be this way until about two until when the early finals were done and the hordes would descend around four when the rest of them were done.

While Kristen wanted to talk to someone about what Mrs. Johnson had said, she didn’t want to give voice to her own fears. She didn’t want to face up to them being true. So instead of talking with Skye, she checked the supplies and let Skye handle anyone who came in.

The bell rang, and Kristen’s lips turned up. She loved the sound of that bell. She waited, but didn’t hear anything. Curious, she made her way out of the kitchen.

Cameron stood with Skye, quietly talking. His head lifted, and Kristen’s breath caught in her throat. His blue eyes were blazing, his face stiff and tight.

Skye turned around. “Ummm, yeah take Kristen out. I can handle the café.”

“Thanks, sis.” Cameron marched over to her and cupped her elbow. “We need to talk.”

Kristen didn’t protest. She waited until they were in Cameron’s SUV before she asked, “What’s going on? Don’t you have finals?”

“An intervention.”

“What?” She fastened her seat belt and Cameron pulled out of the driveway.

“Kristen, some guy is in town, asking a lot of questions about you and the café.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Some guy? How long has he been in town, asking questions?” She racked her brain, trying to figure out why someone would be asking about her. She could only think of one reason—her parents.

“A week. I just heard about it today.” His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “One of my students mentioned to me today that the guy had been hanging around outside the café, asking questions about you.”

Kristen swore under her breath. This was so not good.

“Do you know who the guy is?”

She thought back over the last week, all the customers in her café, all the usual people and… She shook her head but then remembered a guy hanging out in front of the café. Skye had made a comment that she’d seen him the last few days. “Medium-build guy with light brown hair and glasses?”

“You know him?”

“No, but he was in the café last week.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me that.” He took one hand off the wheel to rake through his hair.

“Why would I?” She tangled her fingers together. “I just figured he was driving through. He never approached me.” She didn’t know what to think. “Where are we going?”

“To meet this guy.”

“What?” She twisted in her seat as much as the seat belt would allow her. “Are you crazy?”

“No. I want to get to the bottom of this. So when this guy came to the college today, I arranged for us to meet.”

“Cameron, this isn’t a good idea.”

“No?” He turned toward Decadence. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing.” Her family couldn’t have found her, could they? She’d changed her name to avoid being found.

Cameron pulled into the parking lot next to Decadence. “Why are we here?” she asked.

“I called Jack, and he’s allowing me to use his office space next to the club to talk to this guy.” Cameron turned off the vehicle and climbed out.

Kristen let out a sigh as she undid her seat belt and opened the door, but Cameron was there. When she slid out, he stood in front of her, his hand cupping her chin, raising her face up.

“Whatever it is, Kristen, we will face it together.” He lowered his forehead to hers. “I will protect you, help you. I love you.”

He loved her? Her breath caught in her throat. “I…” She couldn’t get any words out. Her heart ached to tell him she loved him, too.

“Shhh.” He cupped her cheek. “Later, we will discuss this, but for right now, I’m in your corner.” He stepped back, slipped his arm around her waist, and guided her inside the building.

Cameron hadn’t meant to blurt out that he loved her like that, but now that he had, he was glad.

First, Mrs. Johnson and her crap had upset him. When Mrs. Johnson had approached his mother and had started in on how Tira raised her son, he’d gone insane. His mother, bless her heart, had told Mrs. Johnson to take her judgmental words and put them where the sun doesn’t shine, because her children were raised to be open and loving to all lifestyles.

He’d waited for Kristen to tell him about Mrs. Johnson, but she hadn’t. He had to wonder why she still couldn’t confide in him.

Now, this stranger was asking questions. Kristen was holding back by not telling him everything, and they would damn well get to the bottom of her reasons for shutting him out. Very soon.

He guided her into the room where his family was seated

“Cameron?” She stopped in her tracks.

“Together we stand,” he whispered, guiding her farther into the room. Then two men at the end of the table stood, both in suits. But the one was the brown hair was the guy who’d been asking questions. The gray haired guy…Cameron had no idea who he was.

Kristen let out a gasp. “Mr. Reynolds?” Kristen’s voice was shaky.

“You’re a difficult person to track down, Kristen.”

Kristen stiffened. “Maybe because I didn’t want to be found.”

“You’ve made that clear.” There was no mistaking the derision in his voice.

Cameron took a step forward.

“No, Cameron.” She tightened her hold on his hand. “Mr. Reynolds is my parents’ high-priced lawyer. I don’t know who the other gentleman is, but he is the one who was in the café last week.”

“Steven Williams, private investigator,” the man with the brown hair said.

“I’ve come to take you home,” Reynolds said.