Brides and Brothers by Anneka R. Walker

Chapter 14

Camille

The next morning Camille was up before the sun. She carefully crawled out of bed so as not to disturb Aiden and noiselessly moved her bag into the master bathroom. The oversized closet, large Jacuzzi tub, and walk-in shower were impressive features she could get used to. She showered and was ready for the day just as the sun made its appearance over the mountains.

Studying her reflection in the mirror, she could see traces of her breakdown from the night before. She still needed time to get used to the surprise live-in family members, but looking back, she knew she couldn’t blame Aiden. She couldn’t count how many times that last week before the wedding he’d tried to get her to come see the house or arrange a time to meet his brothers. There was no one to blame but herself.

She sighed. Maybe it was better that she hadn’t known all the details. She loved Aiden, and she wanted to make their marriage work. Besides, Aiden had something Camille had always wanted: a big family. However, wanting something and having it were two very different things. She wasn’t sure how she was going to handle this or her lingering frustration.

After gently shutting their bedroom door, she slipped into the kitchen. When she entered the spacious room, her eyes widened. Was this a dream come true or her worst nightmare? The cabinets were a gorgeous red maple, and the countertops and ginormous island were a marbled beige. They weren’t what Camille would’ve picked out, but the quality and craftsmanship were well beyond what she could have afforded on her own. The large table seated twelve and was placed in front of large rectangular windows. A sideboard table sat along the far wall with a giant mirror above it. The whole setup was a caterer’s dream! Her mother would be in heaven. She was in heaven.

Almost.

The view was tarnished by clutter. Every counter was covered with dirty dishes, empty fast-food boxes, paper, and other junk. Piles of laundry and papers littered the floor. It didn’t seem possible to see a bigger mess than her old roommates could make, but the Peterson brothers were in a league of their own. She took a deep breath and told herself to focus on the room’s potential.

Pausing in front of the large bay window behind the table, she took in the view of the sunrise; it felt as if the view had been framed for her. Kitchens were special to Camille. She’d inherited the love from her mother, even if they saw them a little differently. Her mom saw tools and appearances. Camille saw the heart of the home. There was no doubt she would spend most of her time in this room since cooking was her favorite pastime. Kitchens were where families gathered most, and as a result, they should look like someone lived there. Seeing it through the lens of the home’s center made the overwhelming mess more bearable.

After pushing up her sleeves, she piled dirty dishes into her arms and hauled them to the sink. It was more dishes than would fit in a single load, but she had to start somewhere. How else would she be able to impress her new family? She had dreamed of how she wanted married life to be, and she was going to make it as perfect as she possibly could.

She finished the dishes, then took the lid off the garbage and nearly gagged. With a quick swipe, the remains of fast-food leftovers disappeared.

She picked a pair of dirty socks with two fingers and shook off the dirt clinging to the fabric before tossing them into a pile of random things on the corner of the counter to sort through later. The kitchen wasn’t perfectly clean, but she had at least cleared enough space to make breakfast.

What did one feed a small army? She opened the fridge to see it full of premade, packaged foods but hardly any fresh items. At least the Petersons had bought eggs—a breakfast staple. After rummaging through the cupboards, her cupboards, she found the ingredients she needed for German pancakes. She whipped up two pans’ worth and put them in the oven to cook. She tackled the sausage next.

Fresh fruit would have been nice had it been available, but after spying a can of fruit cocktail, she resorted to using that instead. She created a topping with the canned fruit, a vanilla pudding mix, and frozen cool whip to serve over the pancakes. She was quite pleased with herself when she stepped back. She set out dishes for eight people and stood back to wait. It would have to do for today. After some needed grocery shopping, dinner would be much more exciting.

The first brother to stumble into the kitchen was a hairy redhead in his pajamas. He had a mop of hair on top of his head and under his nose and chin—and to Camille, he was the most intimidating brother of all.

“Good morning!” she said with an alarming amount of gusto. “Please, sit down. There’s another pan of pancakes in the oven, so dive right in.” She pointed at the table and smiled.

With some trepidation, the brother slowly backed out of the kitchen. Had she been too cheerful, or was it the food? She scanned the spread on the table. The sausages were cooked to perfection. The German pancakes made extra buttery. The fruit fluff—well, it was definitely a creation but it wasn’t unappealing. Camille pulled out some Walmart-brand syrup she had seen earlier and put it on the table—just in case it had been her fluff that had committed the offense.

“There’s my beautiful wife.” Aiden’s voice came from behind her, settling her nerves considerably.

“Finally, someone who will appreciate food,” Camille muttered between the good-morning kisses Aiden placed on her lips and cheek.

“What do you mean?” he pulled a chair out for Camille to sit down.

“I saw one of your brothers this morning. I can’t decide if it was the food or me that caused him to retreat back to his room.”

Staring in the direction of the hall, Aiden asked, “What did he look like?”

“Red and hairy.”

Aiden chuckled. “That’ll be Flynn.”

“Flynn . . .” Note to self: avoid Flynn. “I don’t mind beards, but I’m not sure how he manages to eat with that mangle hanging over his mouth.”

“My beard is getting a little out of control too.” Aiden rubbed at his morning stubble. Camille reached over and touched the prickles with her fingers.

Aiden responded with a tender look. “I’m sorry you had to meet Flynn again without me. He can be a little difficult to get along with. He’s been slowly pulling away from the family and was easily the one most against us getting married. I promise he’s harmless, if a little moody. He’s all talk, so don’t let anything he says bother you.”

Camille frowned. “You shouldn’t have told me he was against our marriage. Now I won’t be able to look at him without thinking he doesn’t like me.”

“He just needs a little time to warm up.”

“And I was worried it was the food.”

Aiden cupped her shoulder with his hand. “Don’t overthink it. The rest of the boys should be up any minute. The twins have class at eight.”

“Twins? Oh, right. The ones from the diner. You’d better give me a quick rundown, or they’ll see right through me. What kind of sister-in-law can’t remember the names of her own brothers-in-law?”

“We’re used to people getting us mixed up and forgetting our names. It’s part of belonging to a big family. They won’t think any less of you if you need a while to find your place here.”

Camille glanced at the hall toward the bedrooms. “Hurry, before they come.”

“For starters, you already know Grant is in Iraq.” Weaving his hands together behind his head, Aiden said, “As for the others, you’ll usually see Benson first in the morning. Correction: you’ll see me first. But he’s the early riser and farmer in the family. He runs most of the machinery and manages the farmhands while I take care of the business end, along with my software business. Benson will be finishing his rounds about now and should be in any second for breakfast. Next in line of age are the twins: Cade and Daegan. Unlike the twins, Benson has dark hair like me.”

“Like your mother?” She had seen a picture of Aiden and his mom in the scrapbook.

He smiled. “Yes, like my mother. The twins are generally laid-back and happy, but they’re hard workers. Not much can bend them out of shape. They need a prod in the right direction now and then, but after that, they’re as good as gold.”

“And do they farm too?”

“Yes, but it’s seasonal work. After harvest, it’s mainly school and odd-jobs. The twins are both seniors in college, so next year might be interesting. And you met Flynn—he’s the second youngest.”

Camille counted on her fingers. “That leaves one brother unaccounted for.”

“That would be—”

“Easton.”

Camille looked up to see who had spoken. Easton was a younger, shorter, and slightly stockier version of Aiden.

Aiden motioned to his brother. “Camille, this is Easton.”

“Guilty,” Easton said with a bow, “but please, let me introduce myself. I think I can give you a far more correct version than Aiden could. I know Easton better than anyone.”

Camille grinned. His mannerisms reminded her of Aiden too.

“I’m a middle child, which means I’m largely forgotten at family functions. That aside, I’m the most socially normal of my brothers. I can say that because I actually socialize outside the city limits. Shocking, I know. I’m Aiden’s wannabe sidekick in the computer industry. Or, in layman’s terms, the repairman.”

“Repairman?” Camille shook her head. “I wonder why Amy didn’t give me your number.”

“Probably because she thought I was better-looking.” Aiden smirked.

Easton rolled his eyes. “It couldn’t have been that you were more mature.”

Aiden shook his head. “Never mind. Tell Camille something worth hearing.”

“I’m a senior in college, same as the twins,” Easton offered.

“Impressive,” Camille said.

He batted her compliment away. “I was a little more motivated and took night and online classes where possible.”

Aiden added, “You forgot to mention your obsession with football. It’s almost as great as these pancakes.” Camille looked at Aiden in time to see him point to a chair for Easton to sit down.

Easton rubbed his hands together. “There is no comparison. Pancakes win every time.” He grabbed the spatula and served himself a generous portion.

Camille was silently pleased when he topped his pancake with a large helping of her fluff.

“So, Camille,” Easton started as he took his seat. “You teach at the college?”

“Yes, but not on campus. I teach a few online courses. I need my doctorate before they’ll hire me full time.”

Easton made a face. “Does that mean Aiden will be the stay-at-home father while you dedicate your life to your teaching?”

Aiden choked on his food, but Camille didn’t bat an eyelash. “Aiden is very supportive of my work, but you can assure yourself he won’t have to sacrifice his career goals for mine.”

Evidently pleased with her diplomatic answer, Aiden slid his arm around Camille and kissed her cheek. “I should’ve warned you about the lot of them. They have little sense and less tact.”

Daegan and Cade chose that moment to enter the room, though Camille couldn’t tell which one was which.

“Little sense?” one said.

“Less tact?” The other matched his brother’s indignant tone.

Aiden nodded up and down in an exaggerated way. “Camille, you remember these two from the luncheon. Cade is the blond, and Daegan is the strawberry blond.” He motioned to the table. “Camille made you some pancakes. Make sure you thank her.”

Once breakfast was over, Camille took Aiden’s plate with her own to clean them at the sink. When Aiden glanced her way, she motioned for him to help her.

He crossed over to her side and whispered, “Are you feeling more comfortable?”

She pursed her lips. “I would feel better if Flynn came out waving a white flag. I’m not going to be around him all day, am I?” The kitchen was large enough she didn’t worry about the men at the table overhearing.

Aiden pinched his lips together, clearly holding back a laugh. He leaned closer and whispered, “He leaves by nine every day. He’s in a band, and they practice most nights. You’ll hardly know he lives here.”

A smile of relief crept across her face without her feeling a trace of guilt.

A door closed in the direction of the garage, and she turned to see who had come in.

“Hey, Benson,” Aiden called to him. He was tall and broad-chested but slim. “Is it cold out?”

Benson nodded as he trudged into the kitchen from the utility room entrance and put his heavy working coat on the back of a chair. “Freezing is more like it. We’ll be starting potato harvest tonight.” The twins groaned in response.

Easton got up from the table with his hand held out. He’d either been eating with his fingers or had managed to rest his hand in some fruit fluff. He glanced around, most likely in search of a napkin. When he didn’t see one, he grabbed a dirty sock off the stack Camille had compiled. He wiped his hand clean, then tossed the sock back onto the pile.

Grimacing, she turned to ask about the potato harvest. “Tonight? Wouldn’t it be better to start in the morning?”

“Why wait?” Aiden grinned. “That’s what headlights are for.”

Farming was a foreign concept. She was starting a mental list of all the things that would be different and new in her life now that she was sharing it with Aiden. Things like working nights and using socks as substitute napkins were going to take some getting used to.

Benson heaped his plate high with pancakes. He’d dished enough to feed three people. Was he trying to make a show of politeness? As the tallest of the Peterson men, perhaps he actually needed more substance. She took a quick inventory of the man. His arms were filled out from hours of hard labor. His eyes were a little wideset but not in any way unattractive. His large chin was clean-shaven and dimpled, and his dark hair contrasted with his light skin. There were so many different looks to the boys, but each was as handsome as the next. Well, maybe Flynn was a little wild, but overall, she had married into a handsome family.

“Why are you studying Benson like that?” Aiden whispered, his brow lowered and his jaw tight.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous. We’re married, remember?” It was the first time Camille had seen Aiden like this.

“Sorry.” His brow relaxed, but his mouth was still set.

She nudged him and gave a teasing smile. “You have nothing to worry about. I’m all yours. I was merely checking for resemblances. You’ve got a great family.”

Aiden held out his arm. “In that case, since you approve of us, let’s take the lady of the house on a royal tour.”

The laundry room was the most practical place to start, as it was located on the other side of the kitchen. Now she knew where the dirty socks belonged. The room was the size of a small bedroom, and while large in scope, it wasn’t big enough for the heaps of messy clothes that covered the floor and appliances.

“Um, should I be impressed?” Camille asked.

“I didn’t say you’d love the house—just that it’s yours.” Aiden leaned against the door, unconcerned and completely in his element.

Camille sighed. “I meant the laundry. There’s a lot. It’s hard to believe they have more clothes besides the ones in these piles.”

Aiden kicked some out of the way to make an aisle for her to pass through. “Feel free to boss them around and make them do their chores. I do it all the time.”

“Oh no,” Camille said, shaking her head. “I’m not the mother of grown men. I think we’d better hurry and marry a few of them off.”

“I knew you were the right one,” Aiden said, impressed.

Camille rolled her eyes. Aiden caught her off guard and swooped her up and threw her down on a huge heap of towels. He started tickling her, and she screamed, “Stop! Ew! Dirty clothes! Stop!”

After Aiden showed mercy and Camille shivered in disgust, the tour recommenced. Aiden opened the double doors off the kitchen to reveal the family room. The coffee table alone was littered with empty fast-food containers and more socks, not to mention the miscellaneous items: a pair of fingernail clippers, chopped fingernails, and wart remover. Perfect.

In an attempt to ignore the mess and see the room for what it was, Camille turned to face the large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall above a beautiful fireplace. The couches were worn, and the room would’ve been more attractive with neutral walls instead of mauve, but the structure had potential.

“Well?” Aiden asked.

“It’s nice,” Camille responded in a vague way. Thankfully, Aiden didn’t act disappointed. He pulled her down the hall into the next room, a formal dining and living room. She gasped. It was magazine perfect. The dining room contained another long table—this one more elegant than the one in the kitchen—with a table runner and candles. In the connected living room was a shiplap wall with a floating fireplace below an oversized wreath. On either side of the fireplace were long white cabinets with floating shelves above them. The decor was various vases and dishes and spots of greenery. The highlight, though, was a beautiful baby grand piano.

And the room was clean. Perfectly clean. “Wow. I like this room.”

“I hoped you would.” Aiden rocked back on his heels, looking pleased. “My father did the woodwork. It was a hobby of his. He also did the cabinets in the kitchen and the mantel on the other fireplace. For most of the rest of the house, my parents hired out the labor.” He ran his hand over the piano. “There was nothing more important to my mom than God, her family, and music. We all had to learn to sing and dance.” He raised the hand that was holding Camille’s and extended one finger to point to the china. “The glassware collection is hers. Those dishes represent her family heritage. Most of them are heirlooms that have been passed down for generations. The blue set made it across the ocean, then across the states. A lot of sacrifices went into keeping those dishes safe. I probably wouldn’t appreciate the story if it weren’t for what it meant to my mom.”

“It’s beautiful.” Camille squeezed his hand. She’d liked the room immediately, but knowing its significance in his family history made it all the more lovely.

Aiden pointed to the couch. “My aunt is an interior decorator. She was divorced and needed some pictures to add to her portfolio to get back into business. I let her pick out the furniture to help her out. Now that I think of it, it’s been a year since we’ve updated this room. We try to keep it nice for company. We have youth groups who meet here, and friends of my brothers are over a lot. It’s a space that gets used.”

With a warm hand on her back, Aiden ushered her to the next room to continue their tour.

There was a guest bedroom and bath on the other side of the family room, and Aiden and his brothers kept some recreational equipment like four-wheelers and a ping-pong table in the barn, which even had a gym floor for basketball. The house’s downstairs had a large storage area and a family room, but that was full of junk and exercise equipment.

“The rest of the house isn’t too impressive—mostly dirty bedrooms,” Aiden said as he concluded the tour. “Benson has his own room with Grant gone. Daegan and Cade share, and Easton and Flynn share.”

“The rooms are all so spacious. This house is huge!” Back in the formal living room, Camille sank onto the couch to test it out. She could already tell she would be frequenting this space a lot, even though she didn’t deserve to live in a mansion. None of this seemed fair after the way she had acted the night before.

“Well, it’s a pain to keep up. None of us are cleaners. I hired a crew to come the day before our wedding. I wanted to make a good impression.”

Camille smirked. “They must not have done any laundry.”

Scratching his neck, Aiden admitted, “It wasn’t in the scope of their job.”

Camille would’ve laughed, but it wasn’t hard to feel sympathetic when she thought of Aiden trying to run a household of men. “I might be able to help out in that department until we all get into some sort of routine. In fact, while we’re sitting here, do you mind if we go over schedules?”

Aiden sat next to her and pulled her onto his lap. “Talk away.”

Camille started listing things with her fingers. “First, I need to work on my classes before I stop by my old apartment to pick up my stuff. It might take a load or two. Then I need to go to the grocery store. I’ll need a lot of groceries if I’m going to feed seven people for every meal.”

“Whoa,” Aiden said. “You don’t need to cook every meal.”

“I’ve always planned on making dinner every night for my family.” Camille rested her head on his shoulder. “Just because I’m not happy to be living with your brothers doesn’t mean they need to know that. Serving them might help me accept my situation here. Besides, remember how my mother has a catering business? Well, I had every intention of going into the food business before my relationship with her fell apart. I think I can manage.”

Aiden rubbed her back. “I knew I got me a fine wife. You’re just what this family needs—what I need.”

Camille slugged him on the shoulder. “You’d better not have married me to cook and wash your laundry.” She’d just volunteered to do both, but she still wasn’t completely over the shared-housing dilemma. In many ways it was even worse than her old housing situation.

“No, ma’am,” Aiden said, grinning. “But I don’t think anyone will complain.”

Camille snuggled deeper into the crook of Aiden’s arm. “I might, but you’re not allowed to love me any less.” She could do this.

No, she couldn’t do this. Would she and Aiden ever have any privacy?

Camille took a deep breath. She needed an unconventional solution for an unconventional problem. Her dreams were worth fighting for.