Just Like This Page 2

  “Are you serious? The great Garrett Hammond is leaving a party early?”

  “Fuck off, man.”

  “Are you really that unhappy for me? You can’t stand that I’m getting out while you’re still in, can you?” There was an unmistakable glassiness to his eyes and a slight slur to his speech. I took his harsh questions with a grain of salt because while there might be some truth to what he asked, Palmer also wasn’t thinking clearly.

  “What I can’t stand is being in a room full of strangers, wondering who might try to blow me up, okay? This has nothing to do with you.”

  I left before he could say another word. I was an asshole, shitting all over a celebration in his honor. This party was to welcome him home, but I made it about me and my issues. A pair of blue eyes and the scent of jasmine drove me away too. No woman had ever made me look twice before, but Cami was off-limits. Palmer wanted her, and I had to respect that.

  Chapter Three

  Cami

  “So what did you think of Jackson and Garrett?” I asked Valerie on our way home.

  Garrett was all I could think about. I easily pictured his messy brown hair and dark brown eyes, but after Palmer introduced us, he seemed to vanish. Occasionally, our eyes would meet across through the crowd, but those moments were fleeting. When I asked Palmer about him, he just shook his head and said, “Garrett can be a moody asshole.”

  Jackson was entirely different. He was a social butterfly, mingling with all of the guests. He seemed to thrive in the crowd while Garrett hid in the corners.

  “I didn’t really meet Garrett,” Valerie answered. “But Jackson was nice. You and Palmer seemed pretty cozy the entire night. Did he make a move?”

  “No. There were no moves. Nothing happened between us tonight, and it never will,” I said a little too defensively.

  Was I excited that Palmer was home? Absolutely. He was my best friend, and not only was I happy that he was home for good, but I was also glad he came home alive. I wanted to celebrate that with him tonight, but apparently, it looked like we were a little too cozy. If Valerie thought so, then it was certain his mother did too.

  “Maybe he’ll propose over breakfast,” Valerie teased.

  I groaned. “Please, stop.” But breakfast meant spending more time with Garrett, maybe getting to know him. God, I wanted to know him.

  “We don’t have to stay for long, right?” Valerie asked me.

  “No, we don’t. I want to spend a few hours at the hospital with Dad,” I informed her.

  “You don’t have to go to the hospital every day, Cami.”

  “Yes, I do,” I state firmly. After our mother left, my father became my whole world, and now, he needed me more than ever. I would go to the hospital every day because he didn’t deserve to fight alone.

  When we arrived home, my body still hummed with excitement from the party and from meeting Garrett. The energy propelled me through a late-night baking session that resulted in two dozen blueberry scones.

  I glanced up from my baking to see Val sitting at the kitchen table with her laptop open. I knew what she was doing; she was searching her email, hoping to hear from her fiancé, Dominic. My heart broke for my sister. Dominic was deployed, and their almost daily communication had slowly dwindled to nothing. A few times, I had caught Valerie crying, and I wondered how she could do it. She and Dominic were high school sweethearts, and he’d proposed before he left on his first deployment. Their relationship had endured deployment after deployment, but every time Dominic left, Valerie became more withdrawn.

  The next morning, the exciting possibility of seeing Garrett again propelled me to speed through my usual morning routine. As I finished getting ready, I noticed Valerie was unusually quiet. Her shower wasn’t on, and I didn’t hear her telltale humming.

  “Let’s go, slowpoke,” I yelled at Valerie, who still hadn’t gotten out of bed.

  I searched my closet for the perfect outfit and picked a short floral sundress. I braided my wet hair and applied minimal makeup because this was just breakfast.

  “You go without me,” Valerie moaned from her bedroom. From the tone of her voice, she was in a foul mood. Maybe it was our conversation from last night. “I’m going to call Dominic’s mom to see if she’s heard from him.”

  “Good luck,” I told her, then headed down to the kitchen to pack the muffins before leaving.

  I arrived at the Graysons’ early, but Palmer was awake and greeted me warmly when he opened the door. “Are those blueberry scones?” He eyed the pink pastry boxes I held in my hands.

  “Yep. Your mom asked me to make them.”

  I thrust them into his hands, and Palmer groaned appreciatively. “God, I missed these.”

  “Thank God you’re here, Cami! I could use another set of hands in the kitchen.” Lucinda appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands in a dish towel that was tucked into the waistband of her apron. She looked at Palmer and me, and a familiar twinkle in her eye told me she was picturing her son in a tuxedo and me in a white dress.

  Despite my silent plea for help from Palmer, his mother dragged me by the hand to the kitchen and assigned me the task of assembling Palmer’s favorite breakfast casserole. There was also a less-than-obvious wink in my direction from Lucinda, which made my stomach churn. She was totally incorrigible.

  I was elbow-deep in hash browns and cheese when I heard male voices. Palmer’s was easy to distinguish, and I knew that Garrett was also one of the voices. I quickly washed and dried my hands before walking over toward the doorway.

  “You’re leaving? Really?” Palmer sounded pissed, and one look around the corner into the foyer told me why. Garrett stood there, his bags at his feet, ready to leave.

  “I’m sorry, Palmer. Really. Last night, I just freaked. I couldn’t handle all of the strangers,” Garrett explained. My heart ached when I saw the anguish written all over his face.

  “Then we’ll cancel all of our plans. Don’t go, Garrett. Not yet.”

  I took one step forward to see better and stepped on an ancient floorboard that squeaked loudly under my foot. Dammit. Three sets of eyes landed on me.

  “Sorry to bother you,” I stammered shyly. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

  “I’m starving,” Jackson exclaimed with an exaggerated pat on his stomach. They all followed me into the dining room where I helped Lucinda serve breakfast.

  It wasn’t hard to miss the eyes on me, and I knew who they belonged to. I brushed Garrett’s shoulder with my arm as I set down a serving bowl full of fruit salad, and he sucked in a sharp breath. Heat crept up along my neck and cheeks before I quickly retreated to the kitchen, to my comfort zone.

  “Here, this is the last thing,” Lucinda said, handing me a platter of bacon.

  I took it from her before heading to the dining room. I set it down opposite Garrett, but it was hard to miss his hungry expression. His hooded gaze was locked on me. Palmer latched onto my hand, startling me.

  “Sit down next to me,” he said with an easy smile.

  Reluctantly, I took my place next to Palmer. His arm slid around to rest on the back of my chair, and he squeezed my shoulder. With a wink, he told me, “Thanks for helping, Cami. This is fantastic.”

  “I’m glad you like it,” I murmured.

  “Guys, Cami is a fantastic baker,” Palmer gushed, cupping my shoulder and pulling me into him. “She used to be one of rising culinary stars in Seattle. I’ve been trying to get her to open a bakery here in Gig Harbor since she moved back home.”

  I blushed and looked away uncomfortably. “Thank you, Palmer, but it’s not the right time.” His words used to be stung too. I still wanted to be, but I wasn’t about to sacrifice time with my father for a career. If it was meant to be, the opportunities I’d had in Seattle to rise to the top of my field would present themselves again.

  I picked at the food on my plate, listening to Palmer’s easy conversation with Garrett and Jackson. They were discussing Garrett’s plan to return home. Th
eir loud and boisterous voices spoke to their closeness with one another. They weren’t just members of the same unit; they were brothers.

  “We’re all supposed to go to Vegas together,” Jackson whined. “It won’t be the same without you.”

  “I’ve got some family stuff to take care of,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry.”

  “Well, just let us know what your plans are,” Palmer said.

  Breakfast was winding down, and I stood to start clearing away plates and dishes. I did my best to avoid Garrett’s side of the table, but I couldn’t help it. He was like a magnet pulling me closer. I reached between him and Jackson to pick up a dish when his hand landed on my arm. “I can do that,” he said when I glanced at him.

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” I forced a smile, but his hand remained on my arm, sending jolts of heat and electricity through my body.

  Garrett’s chair skidded against the hardwood floor as he stood. His body grazed mine as he reached for the platter I was holding. Slowly, he took it from me. “I said that I can do that.” His words were low and deliberate.

  “Thank you,” I whispered. My lips felt dry, and my tongue darted out to wet them. Garrett’s eyes were on me the entire time, tracking each movement. I jerked back, letting him take the platter, and rushed outside to the deck.

  SHIT! This was totally insane. My attraction to Garrett was undeniable, but he was Palmer’s friend. Palmer was my friend too, and this could jeopardize both of our friendships. Was it worth losing Palmer’s friendship to pursue Garrett?

  The wind picked up a bit as I headed back inside. Slowly, I made my way to the kitchen, preparing myself to be in proximity to Garrett. But he was gone. Confused, I returned to the dining room to see if he was picking up the remaining dishes, but he wasn’t there either. Both the kitchen and the dining room were empty. There was no one else was around. I looked down at my watch; how long had I been outside?

  I walked to the front of the house to see everyone standing in the driveway. Lucinda stood on tiptoe to hug Garrett before Jackson reached out to shake his hand. Palmer was last and grasped Garrett in a brotherly hug. Oh, I thought to myself, maybe there wasn’t anything there. Maybe the spark that I felt was just in my imagination.

  Everyone started to walk back toward the house as Garrett’s taxi left the driveway. I scrambled to the dining room and cleared away the remaining dishes. Palmer found me at the sink and snaked his arm around my shoulders.

  “Hey,” he said softly. “You helped cook breakfast; you don’t have to clean up, too.”

  “It’s okay,” I replied tightly. “Where did everyone go?”

  “Just out front to say goodbye to Garrett. He left to go see his family.”

  “Oh.” Palmer reached over and took a plate that I was rinsing. He dried it carefully before putting it away. “When are you and Jackson going to Vegas?”

  “Tomorrow. You should come.”

  “I can’t. We’re waiting to hear from the doctors about my dad and whether his cancer has spread.”

  “I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with this alone. I’m here now, so feel free to lean on me.”

  “I wasn’t alone. I had Valerie. And your mom and dad.”

  Palmer stuck his hand into the soapy water and grasped mine. “Still, I’m here now.”

  Nervously, I looked around, but we were completely alone. He had me cornered, and I had an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. I slipped my hand from his and placed it on the edge of the sink.

  “Cami, I want you to finally give me a chance.” His voice was low and pleading.

  “Palmer ...” I hated that I was about to let him down. Again.

  “Please, Cami.”

  I sighed and took the risk of looking him in the eye. “I’m sorry, Palmer.” I wanted him to be my best friend, not my boyfriend. How could he not understand this after all these years?

  “Is there someone else?”

  “No, there’s not.” Though there’s the hope of someone else. The blissful idea of someone else filled me with excitement.

  “Then tell me why, Cami. One reason and I’ll leave you alone forever.”

  My eyes closed, and I tried to think of a more compelling reason that would keep him from his continued pursuit. “I just don’t feel anything for you beyond friendship. I’m sorry, Palmer.” I reached up to place a hand on his arm, but he pulled away with a scowl. Silently, we stood there in the kitchen at an impasse before he walked away without saying another word.

  In the reflection of the kitchen window, I saw Garrett standing in the doorway. Palmer must not have seen him when he left the room. I spun on my heel to face Garrett. I wanted to ask him how much of our conversation he had heard. Instead, he held up a black canvas bag and said, “I forgot something.” For a long, tense second, we stared at one another before either of us had the courage to say something.

  “How long will you be gone?” I asked nervously.

  “I don’t know,” he answered gruffly.

  “Oh. Well, maybe when you come back, we can get together.” I shuffled my feet, kicking at the invisible dirt on the floor before I dared to meet his gaze.

  A smile ghosted his lips. “Sure,” he answered, his voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper. I bit down hard on my lip to prevent myself from grinning with excitement. He left me with one last smoldering gaze that weakened my knees.

  Chapter Four

  Garrett

  During the drive to the airport, I kept repeating bro code to myself over and over. If I pursued Cami, then I would have broken some unspoken rule between Palmer and me. He was in love with her, had wanted her for years, which meant she was off-limits to me, but the conversation I had stumbled upon replayed in my mind. Palmer had asked for another chance, which meant he had asked before, and she turned him down. I could tell from the slump of his shoulders and the way his head hung down that her rejection had crushed him. When she saw me in the window, her entire body seemed to relax, and I wondered if maybe she had been relieved that I was accidentally eavesdropping. Did she want me as much as I wanted her? That brought me right back to my current dilemma. Did I still have to seek permission from Palmer, or could I just go after what I wanted and ask for forgiveness later?

  The flight down to San Francisco felt impossibly long, but that was because I was a ball of nerves. I fucking hated airports and airplanes. Before I had left Seattle, I’d called Ivan, the manager of my family’s vineyard, and asked him to pick me up. Ivan was the only person I wanted to see before the inevitable discussion with my father about my future happened.

  The airport was crowded, and I walked quickly through it, dodging everyone and everything around me. Gift shops selling every cliché Bay Area souvenirs were a blur as I passed by them until one featuring wines stopped me. Hammond Wines were front and center. My stomach started to churn, and I suppressed the uneasiness because I knew it was time to take responsibility for my past actions and assume my role in running the family business.

  As the oldest of the Hammond sons, I was expected to take the reins from my father when he retired. He had my entire life planned out for me: go to college to learn about running a business and a vineyard, then return home to learn my job until he was ready to retire. Instead, I joined the Army. No one was happy that I enlisted, and no one expected me to re-enlist over and over. With every deployment, I sent my father an unspoken message: I didn’t want to run Hammond Wines.

  Down at baggage claim, I grabbed the large black duffel that contained the entirety of my life from the luggage carousel. I headed toward passenger pickup, and as soon as I stepped outside, I caught sight of a black Range Rover with the Hammond Wines logo emblazoned on the side parked front and center. This wasn’t Ivan’s usual choice of vehicle, which meant that he hadn’t come. I was facing my father sooner than expected.

  Through the passenger window, my father saw me step out of the building, and he immediately opened the driver door and climbed out. I stood froze
n, watching as he made his way slowly to the passenger side. We stared at each other in silence before he said gruffly, “Welcome home, son.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I murmured as he unexpectedly enveloped me in a crushing hug. He held me longer than I expected before letting go. He bent down and reached for my bag, but I stopped him. “It’s pretty heavy. Let me do it.”

  My dad nodded and walked back around to the driver’s side. I saw him quickly swipe at his eyes. He was crying? It was hard for me to picture my father exhibiting any emotion other than anger because he’d taught us that they were a weakness, and weaknesses were unacceptable.

  After I finished loading my bag into the back, I hurried to the front and climbed inside. Now the only thing that lay between the airport and the comforts of home was two uncomfortable hours in the car with my father.

  Silently, my dad navigated his way through San Francisco and onto the Golden Gate Bridge. From my window, I could see the fog dissipating from the bay, leaving patches of blue-green water in the midst of the gray murkiness. By the time we headed into Sausalito, it was raining, and I felt restless.

  “Did you get the cases of Riesling and Gewurztraminer that I sent from Alsace?” The silence in the car bothered me. I glanced in his direction to see him nod.

  “Yeah. Shit tasted like piss, but we got it.” His response didn’t surprise me, but I chuckled low. Last year, I spent my leave in Germany and traveled all around the region sampling many … things. But to my dad, if it didn’t come from California, then it was worthless.

  “Well, that was some of the best tasting shit I’ve had.”

  “You’ve been away too long. Wait until you taste what we’re pouring.”

  “Speaking of tasting. How is Oliver doing?” Oliver was the middle child, the forgotten one who easily stepped into the role as the oldest, the role I was supposed to fill.

  “He’s good. He and Tabitha are expecting their second baby.”