After two sessions of positive reinforcement, Dalton took Camille to a real restaurant, with a door and walls and everything. It was a classic greasy-spoon diner, with neon signs in all the windows advertising everything from beer to old-fashioned malts. She thought the place looked promising.
They’d just stepped inside the door when he stiffened beside her.
“What’s wrong?” She glanced around, but saw nothing other than people having dinner. “Is it Bobbie Jo again?”
“Worse, potentially. They haven’t noticed us yet, but my family is sitting in the corner.” He sighed. “While I’m happy to have you meet them, they’re insane.”
“In the best way?” She caught his fingers and squeezed.
“In the Southern way.”
Biting back a chortle, she said, “I don’t doubt that you have a special brand of insanity here, but you’ll need to explain anyway.”
He waved an expansive hand. “In the South, we don’t ask if you’ve got crazy people in your family. We know you do. Because we don’t hide our crazy folks in the attic like something out of Jane Eyre—no, we give them a glass of sweet tea and parade them out on the front porch for everyone to see.”
“Okay.” She tried to don a serious mien, but doubted she succeeded. “So, how crazy are we talking?”
Because she already knew he wasn’t talking about real mental illness such as his father had suffered. Mischief and chagrin mingled in his gaze, but none of the pain from when he discussed his dad.
“I’ve got a great uncle who married two of his second cousins. He liked to go shopping at family reunions. My grandmother sleeps with a shotgun and likes to wave it at anyone who knocks on her door—clearly, they’re out to kill her. One of my third cousins only wears camo. Even her wedding dress was camo. Pink camo.” He squinted. “Oh, and my great-great-great-grandfather fought on both sides of the Civil War, so my family isn’t sure if we want the South to rise again or not. Loyalty, you know.”
Forget serious, she burst out laughing. “That’s awesome.”
“Most of the time, yes, except when you’re looking to introduce a non-Southerner to them. Then it’s only fair to provide an appropriate warning label.” He arched an eyebrow. “Also, if you’re interested in some real moonshine—not the kind you buy in the store, but the real stuff—I have a third cousin who can help you out. But that requires an entirely different kind of warning label.”
“Is this the pink-camo third cousin?” Because, if so, she might need to meet this woman just to say she had.
“Nope. I have a pretty sprawling family tree, and that’s just including the ones that are blood related. I have plenty of aunts, uncles, and cousins who don’t share any part of my gene pool.” He nodded to the table in the back. “Some of them are related to my Aunt Opal, but some of them don’t even have a connection by marriage.”
“Welcome to the South?”
“Exactly.” He squeezed her fingers. “And you laughing got their attention, so now they’re staring at us.”
She made her eyes go round. “Waiting to see if we bolt?”
“No, they know I’m not that stupid. It would hurt Aunt Opal’s feelings. That’s just asking for a verbal beating when I get to work tomorrow.”
“The hazards of sharing an office with family.” She made a shooing motion. “Looks like we’re having dinner with them then. Lead on, Dr. Wakefield. Show me the crazy.”
He tapped a finger against the tip of her nose. “Just remember, you asked for it.”
“If it’s too traumatic, you can take my mind off it later.” She licked her lips, making the movement as suggestive as possible.
His gaze stayed glued to her mouth for a moment. “Is it bad that I want to bolt, take you back to my place, and spend the rest of the evening screwing like minks?”
Those dirty words, in his honeyed accent, made her feel as if she’d go up in flames any moment. Dear God, this man got to her, and he’d very quickly learned how to push her buttons to turn her on. “You’re going to say things like that in the same room as your aunt and baby cousins? Bad, bad boy.”
“Didn’t you threaten to spank me earlier?” he whispered in her ear as he set his palm on the small of her back and pushed her forward.
“Don’t tempt me,” she hissed, while keeping a smile glued to her face because they most definitely had an audience. “I brought a skinny belt with me for my presentation outfit. It’d hurt to wallop that thing against your pretty ass.”
“Pretty?” he murmured.
But she had no time to reply before they were standing beside his family’s table. Maybe she should be freaked out by the idea of meeting the family, but she wasn’t. Odd, since she normally avoided these kinds of get-togethers like the plague—her two serious guys had had to work hard to convince her it was time to meet the parents. Maybe it was because she was out of town and cutting loose. Maybe it was because she was curious to know more about the people who’d taken in their nephew and raised him as their own. They’d done a damn fine job, as far as she could tell.
“Oh, you got my text message,” the older woman at the table said, eyeing Camille speculatively.
Dalton blinked, fished out his phone, and checked the screen. “Uh, no. Not until this very moment. Sorry, we’ve been busy.”
Indeed, they had. Camille tried to exude virtuousness, and fought the urge to fidget. The elder Wakefields might not be her parents, but they had that air about them. Avoiding their gazes, she offered a grin to the other three people at the table—a man and two women. Since the women were identical, they had to be the twin cousins.
The twin on the right gave a sassy smile. “I bet Dalton wouldn’t have brought you here if he’d checked his messages. Now you get to face the firing squad.”
“Charming, Raleigh Jane.” Dalton rolled his eyes. “Thanks for that.”
“You’re welcome,” she sang out, completely unabashed.
Camille bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
Sighing, he shook his head. “Camille Kirby, this is my Aunt Opal and my Uncle Landry.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” She shook hands with the older couple, who appeared avidly curious, but offered her friendly grins.
Dalton turned to the other side of table. “These are my two cousins, Savannah and Raleigh. She prefers Leigh, but I ignore that when she’s being a brat. Which is nearly always.”
“Savannah.” She shook hands with the twin on the left, then the one on the right. “Leigh.”
Both women gave her a once-over, though something about Leigh’s gaze was more…appreciative. And lingered for a just a moment on Camille’s cleavage. Well, then.
But Dalton grabbed her attention when he waved to the man who sat hand in hand with Savannah. “And this is my best friend, Warrick, who was bastard enough to hook up with my little cousin behind my back.”
His tone was mild enough that Camille could imagine it had been one rip-roaring fight when Dalton found out. Warrick’s teeth flashed white against his dark skin as he smiled, but he gave no verbal reply to his friend’s comment. Savannah leaned her head against his broad shoulder. The couple was a study in contrasts—her complexion was pale, his was brown, her hair was stick straight while his was a mass of tight curls. She was rail thin and he looked teddy-bear cuddly. They were beautiful together, and the contentment oozing off of them was enviable.
Dalton settled into the chair next to his uncle and Camille slipped in beside him. It was interesting seeing him with his family. The twins had their mother’s peaches-and-cream skin, but they had the same dark-chocolate eyes, high cheekbones, and square jawline as Landry and Dalton.
Camille glanced at Warrick. “How long have you been friends?”
“First day of kindergarten.” He waved at Dalton. “Wakefield was the best at T-ball and I wanted him on my team.”
Opal smiled. “My boy went to college on a partial baseball scholarship.”
That she called him her boy said a lot about their relationship, and good things at that. Camille turned to Dalton. “Baseball scholarship? Really?”
He shrugged. “You know I’m on a rec league team now, and I get down to the batting cage sometimes to burn off steam, but I was nowhere near going pro.”
The waitress brought them both water and handed them some menus. “If you two choose quick I can get your food out at about the same time as everyone else’s.”
“Thanks, Ellen.” Dalton didn’t even look at his options. “I’ll have the chicken-fried steak and a baked potato with all the fixings.”
“Me too.” Since lunch had been more rubbery conference chicken, Camille hadn’t eaten much. It wasn’t good and it was boring, which didn’t do much to inspire her appetite. “And a Diet Pepsi, if you have them.”
“Yep.” Ellen jotted the orders down on her notepad and collected their menus. “Coffee for you, Dalton?”
He nodded. “You know it.”
“Got it.” With that, she was off, leaving the table engulfed in a pool of silence.
“So.” Leigh took a sip of her tea. “Are y’all banging yet?”
Dalton pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus.”
Oh, please. As if that was even a racy question. Not amongst the Kirby girls, anyway. Camille’s oldest sister Anne had zero filters and gave no fucks, so questions like that were par for the course any time the girls got together. “We are. Is that a problem?”
Clearly expecting a more offended reaction, Leigh blinked. “Well, no.”
“Okay, then.” Fighting fire with fire, Camille asked, “So, how’s your love life?”
Leigh pulled a face. “Since I’m the only singleton here?”
“Yep.”
She sighed. “Haven’t been on a date with anyone new in over a year.” She quickly added, “None of the guys in town are worth my time.”
“That’s a damn shame.” And it really was. Considering Camille’s sex life had looked even bleaker until a few days before, she could definitely commiserate.
Grinning, Leigh turned to Dalton. “I like her. Unlike that uptight bitch you married.”
Ignoring the comment about his ex, he nodded and laid an arm across the back of Camille’s chair. “Thanks. I like her too.”
Opal’s eyes narrowed as she took in her nephew’s actions. “How long are you in town, Camille?”
There was a pointed question, and Camille tried not to squirm under the older woman’s gaze. It wasn’t as if she was leading Dalton on. They’d both known from the beginning this was short-term. “Just until the end of the week. I’m attending a professional conference here.”
“Oh? What’s your profession?” Landry asked.
“I’m an engineer.”
“Not just an engineer. She owns her own software engineering company.” There was a tinge of pride in Dalton’s voice that made her flush, and she quickly crushed any tender emotions that wanted to take root in her heart.
Shrugging, she demurred, “With two partners—it’s not a one-woman show, thank God.”
“A three-woman show?” Savannah asked.
That was a more complicated question than it seemed at first. “No. Joel is definitely male. Feng hasn’t really decided how to define himself. In the end, he might go for she or they as a preferred pronoun but, for the moment, he identifies as a gay male cross-dresser. Though I have a feeling he’s not done with his metamorphosis.”
“They for an individual person?” Landry cocked his head to the side.
Shrugging, Camille asked, “Well, if you’re neither he nor she, but both at the same time, what’s your other option? It? I’d pick they in Feng’s place too.”
Leigh raised a challenging brow. “And you don’t have any problems with his non-conformation to gender norms?”
Whoa. Someone’s hot buttons had been stomped on.
“Nope.” Camille crossed her legs and faced the woman head on. “Feng’s sexual orientation and gender identity are none of my concern unless he chooses to discuss them with me. We’re friends as well as business partners, so his private life does come up, but I don’t pry.”
Casting his daughter a glance from the corner of his eye, Landry asked pointedly, “The important question should be: is he/she/they a good friend, engineer, and business partner?”
“Agreed,” Dalton said, frowning at his cousin.
Camille focused on Landry’s question, and she didn’t have to feign her sincerity. “Feng is fantastic, very creative, and an amazing partner. Joel’s rock solid too. They’re both good friends to me, and have been for many years. I’m incredibly lucky to have them. We’ve been a very successful team.”
Leigh settled back in her seat, her brow furrowed, but she let the topic go. Considering the attention the woman had given to Camille’s chest, she had a feeling Leigh’s defensive edge had little to do with Feng and everything to do with her not having dealt with her own orientation issues. Camille would guess that the lack of interest in any men in town had more to do with Leigh’s preferences than with the men. But Leigh’s sexuality was no more Camille’s business than Feng’s was.
“So.” Opal grinned and steered the conversation into far different waters. “I happen to have some naked baby pictures of Dalton in my wallet. Want to see them?”
He groaned. “You carry them around for occasions just like this?”
His aunt brushed nonexistent lint from her sleeve. “It’s good to be prepared for anything.”
“She means it.” Landry leaned forward with a smile. “In that duffle bag she calls a purse, she’s got enough supplies to get us through a zombie apocalypse, a nuclear winter, and the odd red wine stain.”
The red wine comment just made her think of Dalton and what they’d done the other night over a bottle of Syrah. She stomped that memory down as fast as humanly possible and grinned back at his uncle. “Do you also have a bomb shelter in your backyard? For when the apocalypse comes?”
“Don’t encourage her!” Savannah moaned. “She’d build one. Y’all know she would.”
Warrick just laughed. “You guys are my kinda crazy, and that’s all I’m going to contribute to this conversation.”
“Sometimes silence is the best choice.” Dalton nodded sagely. “Keeps you out of trouble.”
“I trained you well, young man.” Landry reached over to ruffle his nephew’s hair.
Snorting, Opal shook her head. “You mock me now, but whose door are you going to come knocking on when the zombies show up?”
“Yours, Mama. No question.” Leigh tried for an expression of guileless adoration. And failed, because her smirk kept breaking free. “Zombies or wine spills. I’m hiding at your place.”
“Me too,” Savannah said solemnly.
“Oh, hush.” Opal swatted at both her daughters, who ducked away.
A chuckle went around the table, and Camille relaxed. It was nice to be with a family who so clearly enjoyed each other’s company. She had that with her sisters, but throw the drama llama mama into the mix and enjoyment wasn’t really on the agenda.
The waitress showed up with their food, and the group dug in. After conference chicken, anything would be flavorful, but Camille almost moaned at the crunchy coating and the juicy steak. It was delicious.
Pursing her lips, Savannah set down her burger and wagged a finger at her twin. “Okay, wait. Dalton and his new girl interrupted our conversation. Let’s not get sidetracked. Leigh’s taking another mysterious vacation this weekend.”
“Nothing mysterious about it.” But a blush raced up her cheeks. “I’m going to Atlanta to hang out with some friends from college. We’re meeting up for a concert.”
“Oh?” Landry seemed skeptical. “Why isn’t Savannah going? You went to the same colleges and majored in the same subjects.”
“Because I’m taking her to Nashville for the weekend.” Warrick shrugged and popped a French fry into his mouth.
Glee shining in her gaze, Savannah rubbed her hands together. “Shopping. All the shopping.”
He tugged on a lock of her hair. “The merchandise genuflects when you walk by.”
“As is proper and right.” She pressed a palm to her heart. “It knows if it pleases me, I will take it home with me.”
“Oh. The dirty jokes that come to mind,” Leigh deadpanned. “So, Warrick, did you please—”
Dalton broke in. “And that’s where that question ends because I really don’t want to know.”
“Prude,” Savannah and Leigh retorted simultaneously, then giggled.
“It’s that weird twin thing.” Warrick shook his head.
“Well, I’ve been saying they’re freaks of nature since they were born.” Dalton cast a pitying glance at his cousins, who looked back with the same expression.
“It’s sad when they just don’t get it.” Savannah tsked.
Leigh hummed in agreement. “Singletons, indeed. Bless their hearts.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Camille muttered.
“What’s that?” asked Opal.
Camille shook her head. “I had someone explain the variety of Southern meanings for that phrase. I’ve just never heard it used by a real Southern belle. It’s different.”
Rather than think she was insane, Opal just nodded as if that was the most logical thing in the world. “It’s all about the tone, dear. You have to learn it at your mother’s knee.”
“I believe you.” She leaned over to whisper in Dalton’s ear. “Southern belles are scary.”
“I told you,” he murmured. “Don’t forget to say please, thank you, and ma’am.”
She didn’t quite manage to smother a chortle. “Should I make you say that later?”
Under the table, he ran his finger along the edge of her shorts. “Yes, ma’am. Please do. Thank you.”
And that was when she lost it and started cracking up. She didn’t even care if his family knew they were saying dirty stuff. Totally worth getting busted.
But the weirdest thought occurred to her just then. She’d never managed to muster the guts to introduce a man to her family. With her semi-psychotic mother and unfiltered, prying sisters, she’d never thought any guy would be able to handle the trial by fire that was the Kirbys. After meeting the Wakefields, she had a feeling Dalton would do just fine.
Didn’t it figure? The one man she’d met who could handle her family’s crazy was the one man she had to leave behind.
* * * * *
The next few days flew by for Dalton. He put in his hours at work, but his evenings were all about Camille. They spent every possible second together. Sometimes he picked her up, sometimes she drove her rental car and they met somewhere. They went mini golfing, which she took as a challenge to her geometry skills. She was nothing if not competitive, and he’d teased her mercilessly about it. Fortunately, she also knew how to laugh at herself.
One afternoon, they’d gone swimming at her hotel pool and then spent the evening hanging out at his house. He’d made her pho, and they’d lazed around for a few hours in the rocking chairs on his porch. They’d managed to discuss everything under the sun this week. Families, jobs, religion, politics, plans for the future. They agreed more often than not. Her relationship with her mom made it easier to talk about his dysfunctional history with his dad. Her deep loyalty to her sisters echoed his to his aunt, uncle, and cousins.
They were both hardworking, and had focused on their careers, occasionally to the detriment of their love lives. He told her about feeling crowded in their optometry office, but not knowing where to go. She asked his opinion about some of the candidates she thought her business partners should meet. Somehow, he thought being included in her business decisions was a more personal form of sharing than some of the illicit things she’d told him. Of course, she’d also mentioned her business partners had encouraged her to share her jetted tub with a sexy stranger. He’d have to send them a thank you note for that suggestion. Hot damn.
Spending all his extra time with Camille meant it wasn’t until Thursday that he finally got around to returning his uncle’s boat. Not that Landry minded if it was parked in Dalton’s driveway rather than his, but his uncle was taking an old college buddy out on the lake this weekend, so he needed it back. Dalton pulled up in front of Landry and Opal’s house and slowly backed the boat into its designated spot.
His uncle came outside just in time to help unhitch the boat from Dalton’s Jeep. Leaning against the side of the boat, his uncle asked, “Did y’all have a good time fishing?”
“Yeah. Apparently, Camille’s oldest sister is big on outdoor activities, so they went camping and fishing a lot as kids.” He smiled as the memories of that afternoon streamed through his mind. “She cleaned what she caught and pan fried it for us afterward. I cook up fish all right, but hers was better.”
Landry’s chin dipped in a nod, his gaze scrutinizing his nephew’s face. What he was looking for, Dalton couldn’t guess. His uncle commented, “She seemed like a nice lady when we met her. Kept up with Leigh’s sass without missing a beat.”
Dalton’s smile grew broader. “She’s got plenty of sass herself. Probably comes from having three older sisters.”
“Your aunt liked her.”
A definite step forward there. After Dalton’s divorce, Opal had wanted him to date, but had been very slow on bestowing approval upon any woman he’d let meet the family. As she liked to say, only the best partners were good enough for her kids. He appreciated the sentiment, but wasn’t sure how he felt about her blessing his match with Camille. She was leaving. He needed to keep that reality firmly fixed in his mind, or his feelings might go well beyond mere liking.
Hell, if he were brutally honest, they might already be beyond a point where he could avoid getting his heart stomped on. Too late to back off now, so he might as well enjoy what he could get.
That probing glance seemed to sharpen. Landry stabbed his finger in his nephew’s direction. “You like her too, which is the most important part.”
“As I’ve said before, I don’t date women I don’t like,” he replied mildly. His uncle’s thoughts seemed to have followed in eerily similar directions as Dalton’s, and while he may have accepted a few truths in his own mind, he wasn’t ready to discuss that with anyone else. His family had already watched him get his heart ripped out before—they weren’t going to be excited to realize it had happened again. Despite the shortness of the relationship, he had a bad feeling that losing Camille was going to hurt worse than losing his ex. With his ex, things hadn’t been going well for some time before the breakup. With Camille, it was going to be the pain of losing all that beautiful, shining potential. It hadn’t yet had a chance to ripen or sour.
His uncle shot him a chastising look. “You know what I mean.”
Sighing, Dalton propped a shoulder against the side of the dinghy. “This thing is only for a week, so it doesn’t matter how much I like her or not.”
Landry squinted and lines dug deep grooves around his eyes. “Don’t give her up.”
“What?”
His gaze never wavered. “If you like her as much as I think you do, don’t give her up so easily.”
God, that thought was too tempting. Unrealistic, but very, very tempting. Dalton blew out a breath. “I can’t force a woman to want more than she does. She’s been pretty firm about this ending when she goes back to California.”
Now his uncle’s eyes narrowed and he barked, “Why? Does she have someone waiting for her at home?”
“No. She’s not the type to cheat.” Having no-strings arrangements was more her style and she seemed to take all her commitments very seriously—when she bothered to commit. It was all or nothing for her, and he respected that. He just wished she wanted the all with him, rather than the nothing.
“Good.” Landry’s posture eased a bit. “She struck me as a no-bullshit kind of woman. My favorite kind.”
“Yeah.” His too, if he were honest. That was one of the biggest problems with his ex. Deep down, she hadn’t been honest about a lot things—what she wanted, what she needed, what she was willing to do to get what she needed. Camille had all that sorted out. Maybe it was just her personality or maybe her accident had forced her to be introspective, but she had a fix on what was really important to her.
His uncle grunted. “So…maybe you need to renegotiate the ground rules. Maybe it’s time to stop assuming it has to end so soon. If neither of you want that, then plans can change. Discuss it before you assume what she thought when she went into this is what she still thinks. Development happens.”
Dalton raised his hands and shrugged. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t considered this, and dismissed it as impossible. “How would that work? Do you really think long-term long-distance is viable?”
“You make it work.” Landry shrugged, his tone matter-of-fact. “That’s what you do in any relationship. Just because it’s hard sometimes, doesn’t mean it’s not worth it. Don’t take the easy way out here, son. You’ll regret it.”
Maybe. Maybe not. While he knew it was going to sting when she left on Saturday, trying and failing at a long-distance relationship would hurt a lot worse. There were degrees of suffering, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to get his heart ground into dust.
“I should get going. I’m meeting Camille for dinner.” Or, rather, he was going to her hotel and they were ordering room service. No tour-guiding stuff today, just hanging out, watching TV, and him sleeping over. But since he was in charge of introducing her to everything this area had to offer, he’d brought along his bottle of sweet muscadine wine from a nearby vineyard. There was more than one way to show her local goodness.
“Have a good evening.” Landry pushed away from the boat and turned for the house. He glanced back. “Think about what I said.”
“I will.” But that didn’t mean Dalton was going to take the advice.