Brides and Brothers by Anneka R. Walker

Chapter 2

Camille

Camille Kelly picked up a frying pan and dumped the cooled grease into the garbage. “Gross,” she mumbled. If it weren’t for her last-minute decision to move to Cherish, Montana, she would be living with her sister, Amy, and Camille’s best friend, Daisha, in apartment 206 next door. To make her even more jealous, their other roommates—a sister duo, Macey and Raina, and their friends Emma and Sage—were all equally fun and sweet. If only all the beds hadn’t filled before Camille had even signed her teacher contract. Now she was stuck living with five—yes, five—irresponsible freshmen. Her roommates either had never been taught to clean or were declaring their independence from their parents through their housekeeping rebellion.

It wasn’t her job to pick up after them, but clean dishes were a necessary part of cooking—one of her passions. None of it mattered, though, since she’d be homeless by the end of the semester. Professors couldn’t live in student housing after they turned twenty-seven. She’d been on the phone half the day fighting her case. Over and over she’d heard the frustrating response: “Housing shortage.”

Just her luck.

Where was she supposed to go? There was literally nowhere else to live in the small town unless she freeloaded in a basement apartment with a bunch of druggies or convinced the local nursing home to rent out a bed. The neighboring towns were even smaller in size and too spread out. And on the small chance she could find a place there, she’d be isolated from Daisha and Amy. Since she was working remotely, she could go live with her aunt in Michigan, but she’d much rather stay near her sister and swap dating stories with her friends than her aunt.

Camille pushed the button to start the dishwasher and looked down long enough to notice the ugly grease had splattered across her favorite blouse. She took a deep breath and counted to ten. Her long day was just getting longer.

After leaving the kitchen with her temper barely in check, she slumped down on the couch in the small living room. She pulled her laptop off the coffee table to google how to get grease out of fabric. She hit the power button, and after several minutes of waiting, she realized her evening was about to get worse. Her home screen refused to load.

Great.She restarted the computer twice and even messed with the battery before giving up. Not only was she out a shirt but she was also going to fall behind in her online classes. She shut her laptop and pushed it aside. She needed this teaching job, but nothing seemed to be going smoothly here. Maybe moving to Cherish had been a big mistake. It had felt right in the moment, but now she was second-guessing herself.

She went to her room and changed into a T-shirt before abandoning her apartment, taking her stained blouse with her, to visit Daisha and Amy. They lived just close enough for Camille to be tortured with jealousy. Not bothering to knock, she walked right in. She tossed her blouse onto the counter and opened the freezer to pull out the ice cream.

Daisha waltzed around the corner with one hand on her hip. “Hey, do you live here?”

“I wish,” Camille said bitterly. “But I should be more grateful for my place since my birthday is at the end of January, and then goodbye bed, shower, and roof.”

Daisha wrinkled her tawny-beige skin with her scowl. “Does this mean more of your stuff is going to end up here? I know we’re best friends, but you’re hogging the freezer space with your ice cream.”

“I’m hiding it here. From myself.” Camille savored the ice cream before swallowing. “Mm, Chocolate Fudge Brownie Chunks always does the trick.” She licked the spoon twice before digging back into the carton for more.

“Rough day, huh?”

“Please tell me you know how to get this out.” She pushed her blouse toward her friend.

Rubbing her finger over the stain, Daisha asked, “Grease?”

“Unfortunately.” Camille took a seat on the counter and waited for Daisha’s verdict.

“It might be there to stay.”

Growling, Camille dug back into the ice cream, searching for the biggest chunk of brownie. “I’ll try dish soap or something. It’s fine.”

“Let me guess: there’s more than just your shirt bugging you.” Daisha folded her arms and leaned against the counter.

“Tonight’s one of those times when everything compounds like life is out to get you,” Camille said. “I need a boyfriend so I can go cry on his shoulder.”

“You don’t need a man to be happy. Things will get better.” Daisha gave her a commiserative smile. “When you didn’t get into the doctorate program this summer, I was impressed with how positive you were about changing gears and teaching instead. Your life has taken a different route than you planned, but it doesn’t mean you’re going the wrong direction. Think of it as a temporary speed bump until you can reapply for next fall. Ride it out, Sister.”

“Thanks for the pep talk.” Camille appreciated Daisha’s positive spin. Her own career was contingent on more schooling, but she’d seen this setback as an opportunity to be in the singles’ scene again at her alma mater, hoping for one last chance to find her dreamboat. With her luck, he had probably sailed by and was somewhere on the high seas, far, far away from Cherish. The proof to her theory was evident in the age range of decent, single males in the area. The small four-year college was filled with a primarily young student body. She didn’t have to go to campus to know there wouldn’t be many men old enough for her to feel comfortable looking at twice.

Camille tried to push away her discouraging thoughts. “When I finished my master’s, my head was on straight. I came back here, and my confidence froze before the weather even had a chance to change. But I’m going to keep pushing forward like you said.”

“Can I put the ice cream away, then?” Daisha made a face and attempted to pry the half-empty gallon from Camille’s fierce grip.

“No!” Camille batted at her hand. “I need it to help me cope with my computer problems. It’s the worst timing ever. Do you know anyone who could fix my laptop before tomorrow morning?”

Daisha frowned. “Uh, it’s already six. I doubt it.”

“I know someone!” a voice screeched from one of the back bedrooms.

“Hallelujah!” Camille said without budging, then yelled, “Amy, you’re a lifesaver!”

Her younger sister entered the kitchen with her white-blonde hair knotted behind her neck. She was short like Camille, but her height was more emphasized than usual next to Daisha’s tall, athletic build.

After pulling out her cell phone, Amy punched a few buttons. “Okay, ready for the number?”

Camille reluctantly put down the ice cream in exchange for her own phone. “Wait, what’s the name? Can I trust this person with my career?”

“Trust?” Amy sounded vaguely annoyed. “This guy is a genius with computers. He usually doesn’t do menial little jobs like viruses, because his brain is capable of far greater things.”

“And my computer will be the exception because . . . why?”

“Because we’re friends. But never mind that. He’s gifted, and you need him.”

Camille sighed with relief. “Perfect. What’s his name?”

“Aiden.” Amy grinned. “Aiden Peterson.”

“Did you say Peterson, as in older brother to your soldier boyfriend?” Camille made her best ugly face. She had never met Grant before because of her time in grad school, but he had her sister’s complete adoration. Sometimes Amy’s enthusiasm for anything Grant-related was a bit much.

Amy nodded, suddenly giddy at the reference to Grant.

Daisha and Camille both rolled their eyes and said in unison, “Freshmen.”

“I’m not a freshman anymore,” Amy protested. “I’m a sophomore!”

Daisha flicked Camille’s shoulder with her finger. “What do you have to lose? Give the guy a call.”

Taking a deep breath, Camille considered her options. The list of media links she’d spent hours researching needed to be posted and her first assignment tweaked. She really, really needed to get her computer fixed tonight. “You’re right. I’m desperate. Give me the number.”

Amy grabbed Camille’s cell and saved Aiden’s number to her phone.

“I’ll put the ice cream away before it tempts me away from the brown rice in the fridge that’s supposed to be my dinner.” Daisha pointed to the ice cream in a nervous manner, as if calories were contagious if touched.

Camille hugged the carton closer, despite that it was dripping with condensation, and shoveled one last scoop of ice cream into her mouth. “Thanks for the number, Amy,” she said around her bite of sweet goodness.

“It pays to have a sister with connections,” Amy said in a singsong voice as she left the room.

Rolling her eyes again, Camille finally handed the ice cream to Daisha, who took it with a groan. She raised the carton to her nose and took a big whiff before practically throwing it into the freezer.

Camille regarded her with sympathy. “What is it like to be on a diet for ten years?”

“Lifestyle change,” Daisha said. “You, girl, can get away with temporary binges like this, but not everyone has your metabolism. I’m just glad the non-stressed you appreciates how to eat healthily. Until she comes back, I shall take care of you.” Daisha handed her an apple from their fruit bowl.

Camille accepted the fruit. “Thanks.”

She glanced down at Aiden’s number—the first guy’s digits to make it into her phone since she’d moved back, and it was business related. She set the apple down and stood, eager to get her computer working, and hit the dial button.

After three rings, Aiden picked up. “Hello, Peterson Computers.”

“Hi, this is Camille Kelly. I got your number from my little sister, Amy. My computer isn’t booting up, and I don’t know why. Can you help?”

“I don’t normally do diagnostic testing. Wait—did you say you’re Amy Kelly’s older sister?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting. And you said your first name was . . . ?”

“Camille,” she answered sharply, annoyed with the runaround. “My name is Camille. Now, about my computer . . .”

“Well, Camille, I could probably squeeze it in. Let’s see, it’s Thursday. Why don’t you drop it off tomorrow. I’ll have it ready for you by Monday or Tuesday.”

“Next week?” Camille glanced across the counter at Daisha, who must’ve given up on her rice and was making a salad. She wouldn’t be any help with this phone conversation. “I actually need my computer for work in the morning.”

When Aiden didn’t jump to solve her problem, Camille started pacing. “Any chance you can help me out tonight?”

There was another long pause on the other end of the phone.

“Or . . . maybe you could refer me to someone who could fix it right away.”

Daisha looked up, her eyes sympathetic.

“You don’t cook, do you?” Aiden asked.

Camille’s brow furrowed. “Cook? Yes, but what does that have to do with my computer?”

“To be honest, I’m starving. I was about to go get something to eat. We could make a trade. I’ll look at your computer, and you bring me food—homemade, preferably. Of course, I can’t make any promises your computer isn’t already fried, but I’ll do my best to get it fixed by morning.”

A smile stole over her face. This was the easiest bargain she’d ever made. “You’ve got yourself a deal!” She penned down Aiden’s address and said a quick goodbye.

“What is this business about you cooking for Aiden?” Daisha asked, taking a seat at the island. “Your phone call started about computers, but from where I’m sitting, it sounded like it finished with a date.”

Camille shook her head. “This is a business arrangement. I make him something to eat, and he fixes my computer by morning.”

“Well, he sure asked the right girl.” Daisha pointed to her. “Did Amy tell him you’re a blonde Rachel Ray?”

“I can’t imagine Amy knows the Peterson family very well. She and Grant dated for just a semester before he got deployed. And I don’t resemble Rachel Ray in any way besides being short.”

“I meant you’re a fabulous cook. What are you going to make him?”

Camille mentally went through the contents in her assigned cupboard and corner shelf in the fridge before answering. “I have no time to go grocery shopping and make a full dinner, but my roommates owe me, and they have some overripe bananas. I’ll make banana bread and bake it at his place. If this guy is as good as Amy says, then hopefully I can leave with my computer and the pan in time to have a chat with my roommates. We need to establish some ground rules at my apartment so I can actually see the ground.”

“Forget your roommates for a second,” Daisha said. “Let’s talk about this computer boy. Don’t hover over his shoulder. Sit where he can get a good look at you, and you might get out of there with a real date.”

Camille saluted Daisha as if agreeing to follow her instructions, even though she was absolutely not going to try to secure a date with Aiden Peter-son. Sisters dating brothers was too weird.