Brides and Brothers by Anneka R. Walker

Chapter 3

Camille

Camille pulled her car up the driveway to Aiden’s house. It was a few minutes out of town, and she was relieved to have arrived without getting lost. Surrounded by beautiful farmland with the mountains in the background, the large ranch-style house sat behind a long, circular gravel drive. A four-car garage connected to the house with a nice truck parked out front like a stereotypical country fixture, and a gorgeous red barn was set behind the house.

Camille pulled in front of the wide porch steps and climbed out of her car. This place was incredible. Either Aiden was rich, or he still lived with his parents. He couldn’t be married if he was asking her to cook for him, but no one who lived alone needed a house this big. His parents were probably just out of town.

She walked up the stairs, then hesitated outside the wood-stained Crafts-man front door. Meeting someone for business at their house was awkward. She hated awkward. She attempted to adjust her computer bag over her shoulder, but it was impossible with the pan of unbaked banana bread in her hand and a green protein smoothie in her other hand. Time couldn’t wait for her nerves to settle, so she rang the doorbell before she lost her courage.

After a few moments the door opened. The description of the man in front of her was cliché but fitting: tall, dark, and handsome.

“Camille?” Aiden asked, folding his arms in front of him.

Camille cleared her throat to find her voice. “Yes, that’s me.” She’d seen a picture of Grant, and he was tall but skinny and blond. Aiden was at least six feet tall with a tan and muscular arms. She hadn’t expected to be this affected by a computer nerd.

Aiden bent forward and peered into the pan. “Is this supposed to be dinner? I thought you said you could cook.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I can cook. It’s banana bread. I didn’t have time to bake it or go to the store for anything else, so you’ll have to put it in your oven.”

Her bread must’ve passed some sort of test because he moved aside to allow her into the house. She stepped past him, their arms brushing. Heat spread up her side. Oh boy. She needed to venture off campus more often.

Aiden opened another door right off the spacious entryway and led her into an office. The cabinets and desk were a beautiful cherry wood. Two overstuffed chairs sat framed by a large rectangular window. While formal, they managed to appear comfortable and inviting.

“Please, have a seat.” Was it obvious she’d been eyeing the chairs? “I’ll pop this into the oven. What temperature?” Aiden snagged the pan out of her hands before she could respond. He really was hungry.

“Oh, um, 350 degrees for about forty-five minutes.”

After Aiden abandoned her, she melted into the seat closest to the door. She’d guessed right. The chair was as comfortable as it appeared. Maybe sisters dating brothers wasn’t such a bad philosophy. If she could convince this guy to fall for her—and fast, since she was about to be homeless—she would be perfectly happy to move in here. She pulled her laptop out of her bag and waited for Aiden to return.

He came back with his hands empty, so Camille gave him her laptop. “Oh, this smoothie is for you too. It’s got veggies and protein in it—all the good stuff.” She placed it in his free hand, and his eyes widened.

Staring at the straw of the plastic cup, he mumbled a polite but hesitant thanks. He set it on his desk and went to work plugging in her laptop and pressing buttons she couldn’t see. Her eyes followed his every movement; she couldn’t tear her gaze away. She guessed he was roughly around her age; he had a lean face and physique, and his hair was neatly trimmed short. His plain jeans and T-shirt were fitted but outdated. She didn’t mind. High-maintenance guys were overrated. There was no argument; she was attracted to him.

Aiden looked up and caught her staring at him. His eyes were a bright green, soft compared to the rest of his chiseled features. There was something familiar about the deep set of his eyes and his easy smile. Had she met him before? Instead of looking away, she smiled casually as if she had nothing better to do. Which, really, she didn’t.

Aiden quirked his brow. “Are you planning on staying here all night while I work on this?”

“I thought you were a computer whiz and would have it fixed in no time.”

His laugh was a rich baritone, and it sent chills down her back. Was it the guy or her long dating dry spell? Realistically speaking, he would fix her computer, and she would never see him again.

“No promises, remember? I design software, do a little website analysis—you know, that sort of thing. I usually leave the maintenance stuff up to my little brother.”

Camille assumed Aiden meant Grant, and she nodded like she understood. He stared at her expectantly, but Camille decided she’d better sit tight until he finished. Her future career depended on the files saved on her laptop.

Shrugging in defeat, he seemed to give up on getting her to leave.

She looked around the room until her gaze fell on a thick scrapbook on top of a file cabinet. A few loose pictures jutted out from the top, and Camille lifted her head to peer at them.

“Go ahead,” Aiden said, his bright green eyes meeting hers again. “It’s an old scrapbook from my church service mission. Since I don’t subscribe to any magazines, it might be the only entertainment I can offer.”

“Thanks.” What was it about his gaze? Was it familiar because of the faint resemblance to Grant’s picture? And why wasn’t he trying her smoothie? She broke the connection, reached up, and pulled the book onto her lap.

The scrapbook contained mostly printed emails addressed to his mom and a few scattered pictures throughout. There were a few selfies, and the rest of the pictures were of scenery or other people. The selfies featured a younger version of Aiden, usually with sunglasses on—maybe as a late teen or early adult—but the pictures were low quality and grainy. She wondered if she dared breach the man’s privacy and read a few emails. He hadn’t seemed to care if she browsed through the book, so she decided to find out for herself if Aiden was as interesting as her first impression led her to believe.

She skimmed one of the emails. Her heartbeat slowed as she immersed herself in the recounting of his week. He’d applied for a long-term volunteer service while taking a heavy credit load and working part time. Aiden easily expressed his faith in God and told his mom not to worry about him. Camille paused at the end of his letter on a paragraph of Aiden expressing his love for his parents and his appreciation for all they had taught him. Was this guy for real? She would never say those sorts of things to her mom—not even in a letter.

Camille flipped to the middle of the book to read another printed email. By this account, she could tell he was on his mission now, and his challenges had changed to food poisoning and a lost wallet. Still, his words were positive. In the next letter, when he was healthy again and his wallet had been found, he was quick to give credit to the Lord. The sincerity of his words sent a rush of warmth through her. She looked up at Aiden, perplexed. The same familiar feeling she’d had moments ago when Aiden had looked at her returned.

She dug out her phone and, with a few taps, ran a search of Aiden’s name on her social media sites. Nothing but his business profile.

“How old are you?” Camille blurted.

Aiden chuckled, not lifting his eyes. “Is that an important qualification for computer repairmen?”

She cringed and gave an awkward laugh. “Never mind.” The letters were messing with her. She shouldn’t have read them.

He pushed a button on her computer, then leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. “I’m just shy of thirty. And let me guess: you’re about twenty-one.”

“Try twenty-six,” she said. “And let me tell you, it’s refreshing to know there are decent males over twenty-five in the area.” She was almost ready to amend the verdict she’d made over an hour before about not getting involved with a Peterson.

“I’d like to think I’m decent.”

“Hmm, it does make me wonder. There has to be something wrong with you if you live in Cherish, Montana, and aren’t married by now,” she joked, half serious. Cherish wasn’t as bad as she made it sound, but its inarguably small-town culture was unique to the place.

Aiden held up his hands. “‘Judge not, that ye be not judged.’”

Camille smirked. “Oh, there is definitely something wrong with me. I’ve got a list of weaknesses a mile long.” One, she hadn’t gotten into the doctorate program she’d applied for. Two, she and her mother were estranged. Three, she was unlucky in the dating department. Her high school crush had been the limit of the magic in her life. Not to mention she had myriad trivial problems, like the thyroid medication she’d forgotten to pick up before the pharmacy closed.

Aiden held up one finger and pushed a few buttons on the laptop keyboard with the fingers of his other hand. “Your computer has a virus. You didn’t renew your antivirus software. I’m uploading a free version for the time being that should do the trick. Then we’ll get your computer all cleaned up for you.”

“See?” she lamented. “Weakness number five million and one: I can’t remember to update my computer.”

“You came to the right place,” Aiden said, winking at her. “And now I get to hear all about that list of weaknesses while the software downloads.”

The wink was obviously an innocent gesture, but she wasn’t immune. Her heart raced when Aiden wheeled his chair around the desk and positioned himself right across from her.

“What’s weakness number five million and two?” he asked. She was about to open her mouth when he shook his head. “I’m joking.”

“Well, it’s definitely not smoothie making. I noticed you haven’t tried the drink I brought you. I thought you were starving.”

He reached and picked up the smoothie, his nose scrunching as he brought it closer to his mouth.

“You can’t make that face until you’ve actually tried it,” Camille said.

“Should I add some sugar to it first? To, uh, cover the vegetable flavor?”

She shook her head and waited as he put his lips around the straw and finally tasted her signature smoothie.

His eyes widened. “You had me there for a second. This isn’t a smoothie; it’s a milkshake.” The straw went straight back into his mouth, and his expression turned from wary to indulgent. He paused long enough to say, “Tell me about yourself. I know you’re Amy’s sister and just moved back to the area but not much else.”

“Not much to tell.” If she wasn’t careful, he might discover her dominant boring trait. It was better not to say anything than to incriminate herself.

Aiden trilled his fingers on his chair. “Since you insisted on staying, I suppose we can just sit and stare at each other while we wait for your computer to get up to speed. Or . . . we could make the most of our evening with a little conversation.”

Camille bit her lip. Should she leave? She could come back for her computer, couldn’t she? Or would it be better to torture herself in the company of a guy who was clearly out of her league while she dreamed of living in his house? She inched forward in her chair, ready to make an excuse and bolt.

Aiden

Aiden waited for Camille to take the bait. Earlier he had scrolled through a dating app for a whole ten minutes before deciding it would be a lot easier for him to find a wife for each of his brothers than for himself. No one seemed right. He hadn’t thought himself picky about appearances, but he couldn’t see past the images to the person behind them. Aiden considered himself a family guy and needed someone who would easily integrate into his life. He had just given up when Camille had called. No algorithms could have calculated someone as perfect as the woman in front of him, though the jury was still out on her baking abilities.

She was dressed in frayed jeans with a stylish top and just a hint of makeup around her eyes. Her blonde hair fell in soft curls a few inches below her shoulders. He’d even caught her genuine smile as she’d looked at his scrapbook. She resembled Amy only in her light coloring and short stature. Her features were more defined, and she held an air of maturity that came only with age and experience. He needed to do a little more digging before he was sure she was worth the chase.

Unfortunately, his suggestion to talk had made her uncomfortable. “I can go first,” he said, turning his smoothie cup in his hand. “You already know my age. Do you want the watered-down version where I just highlight a few hobbies?”

“How long will the computer update take?”

“A while.”

Camille gave him a coy smile and sat back in her chair. “You might as well give me the detailed version.”

Aiden chuckled, glad to see she was relaxed again in his presence. “Let’s see, I grew up in Island Park, just west of Yellowstone, and was homeschooled until I was fifteen. My father worked a couple of jobs until he was ready to invest in what he really wanted to do—farming. By that time my mother was sick of being cooped up all winter long, so we moved to the warmer climate of Cherish.”

“Warmer?” Camille shook her head. “We live in a wind tunnel here. I turn into a popsicle before I can make it from my apartment to my car.”

“Island Park might be south of here, but it’s a higher elevation and accumulates more snow.”

“I’d whistle to show how impressed I am, but I don’t know how.” Camille grimaced. “My mother would’ve had a stroke after a week of her children being home, so the whole concept of homeschooling is a novelty for me. Were you still homeschooled once you moved to Cherish?”

Shaking his head, Aiden explained. “Just until high school. Then I did the college thing for a minute before chasing a dream and volunteering in Brazil on a service mission. Near the end of my time in Brazil, my parents . . .” He looked at Camille, regretting where his story had taken him, though she probably knew his family’s background from Amy. He took a deep breath. “They were killed in a car accident. After I came back, I took over managing the household and the farm.”

Her small gasp told him that she hadn’t known after all. “I’m so sorry to hear about your parents.”

Aiden nodded slowly, attempting to mask his emotions. It was still hard to talk about, even after all this time. He hadn’t planned on giving such a detailed life synopsis, but now that he’d started, he didn’t want to stop. “It forced me to work hard at school to keep my scholarship. I got my undergrad in computer science and my master’s degree in software engineering. I don’t have many hobbies these days with my hectic work schedule, so it’s probably better I didn’t start with those.” He cleared his throat. Camille was hard to read, but he was sure he had already scared her away. “What about you? You can’t be as bad as you say you are. You’re beautiful, you can cook—or so you say—and you’re related to a girl who has made my little brother pretty happy.”

Camille’s cheeks turned pink.

Yep. He was out of practice. “And,” Aiden added, burying himself, “you have a very attractive blush.”

“Stop!” She instinctively covered her cheeks. “You’ve almost convinced me to leave you alone. But if I go, I’m taking my banana bread with me. It’s the only leverage I have for you to fix my computer.”

He didn’t blame her if she left. He was rusty at flirting. “All right, since you can’t handle teasing, I’ll let you do the talking. What’s Camille’s life story?”

Camille pinned her gaze to a small dent in his ceiling. “Well, I was born in Virginia. I lived there until I was six, which was when my mother remarried. We moved to North Carolina, and a year later Amy was born.”

“So Amy is a half sister?”

“Yes,” Camille answered. “The one and only sibling—well, that I’m aware of.”

“That you’re aware of?”

Camille grimaced. “Uh, yeah. My real dad was never in the picture. Who knows if I have more family out there somewhere? When I was little, I always dreamed about being part of a big family, but now I’m just thankful I have Amy.”

“Well, you have your mom and stepdad too. That has to make for a tight-knit family.”

Camille drew her gaze back to the dent in the ceiling. “Actually, Amy’s dad is no longer in the picture either. My mom is still around, but she stays on the sidelines as much as possible. I was a teenager when we moved again to Kansas City, and I turned rebellious and declared myself a Christian.”

“Sounds terrifying.”

She looked back at him. “To my mom it was.” She blames everything that has ever gone wrong in her life on God—partly because she was raised to believe that. Needless to say, she didn’t take it very well. We haven’t been close since.”

Aiden shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I’m sorry if I pushed that out of you. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t want to. It’s not a big deal.”

“Sounds like a very big deal.” He was honored she would share something so personal with him after he had told her about his parents. “Does your mother have a strained relationship with Amy as well?”

“No, actually.” Camille fingered her blonde hair. “She sort of blames me for introducing Amy to organized religion. In her mind, Amy is a victim to my manipulative ways.”

“I understand perfectly,” Aiden teased. “I felt manipulated into helping you with your computer.”

Camille’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I’m kidding.” He laughed. “Chatting with you makes for a much better evening than watching football replays and eating cold french fries.”

She smiled. “I appreciate you giving up your evening for me.”

“My pleasure.” Aiden held her gaze. “My mom used to make banana bread at least once a month. You picked the perfect payment.”

“I’m going to pay you with the green stuff too.” Camille grimaced. “And not the smoothie kind either.”

Aiden shook his head. “I’m happy to help. You don’t owe me anything.”

She narrowed her eyes with mock suspicion. “You can’t fix my computer, can you?”

He chuckled. “Very funny. It should almost be done.” Aiden wheeled his chair back to his desk, set his smoothie down, and pushed a few more buttons. “The antivirus software cleaned up a few bugs. I’m going to restart the computer now, and we should be good to go.” He glanced at his watch and inhaled deeply. “The banana bread should be ready too. Want to join me on my back porch for a slice while we wait for your laptop to reboot?”

Camille ran her hands down her jeans. “That sounds nice.”

Aiden left Camille alone in the office for a few moments while he took out the bread and gathered a paper towel roll to use as napkins and a knife for cutting. He stopped at the office door to show Camille back out the front door. They would take the long way around the house to avoid walking through the messy kitchen, not to mention encountering a curious brother or two.

Once in the backyard, Aiden pointed to a cast-iron bench. The sun was setting over the mountains, and it made for the perfect backdrop. Camille slid onto a seat and took the banana bread from his hands. She sliced and served it to him.

“Is serving me part of the payment?”

Camille nodded. “I’m just making sure you get the best part of the bread at the right thickness. I’m kind of a foodie.”

Accepting his slice, he lifted it to his mouth and savored his bite. “Wow. This is amazing. This isn’t bread. It’s cake.”

“The brown-sugar topping is my favorite. But I make up for the sugar with the whole wheat.”

Aiden devoured his bread in four quick bites and helped himself to a second piece. “The frontier people knew what they were doing when they bartered for food. This is the best banana bread I’ve ever had.”

Her eyes lit up at his compliment. “I sense you’re pretty easy to please when it comes to baked goods. I’m surprised you don’t make your rounds at the college apartments. There are hordes of girls who are dying to find a guy to cook for.”

Aiden grinned. “I almost wish I were that kind of a guy. Thankfully, I’m perfectly capable of buying food.”

She heaved a sigh. “It must be a real burden, buying food instead of preparing it.”

Her teasing smile made him feel brave. “It’s not hard. I’ll even show you how it’s done. Can I take you to dinner tomorrow?” His gut tightened as soon as the invitation left his lips. Would she say yes?

“Yeah, I could go for dinner.”

He breathed out his relief in a slow, indiscernible breath. “I thought you’d say no, and now I don’t know what to say next.”

“I’m a little surprised myself. I’m usually more cautious around strangers.” She pursed her lips, but he caught a hint of an amused smile.

“I understand,” he said, taking the half-empty bread pan from between them and setting it on the ground. He put the paper towel roll on top of it. “No one really likes first dates. I don’t know if it’s the bad reputation, but they never turn out great. I have another proposition. Let’s make tonight our first date, and then tomorrow won’t have the same awkward firstness about it.”

A small laugh bubbled out of her mouth. “I don’t know. I’m enjoying this too much for it to be considered a first date.”

“Only people who have experienced too many first dates like we have can appreciate that fact.”

“Hey, I’m no old maid.” She swatted his arm.

He scooted closer to her and squinted. “Tell me what an old maid looks like, and I’ll decide whether I should amend my statement.”

She peered right back at him. “Hmm, twenty-nine, dark-brown hair, and an obnoxious grin.”

He laughed hard and shook his head. If this was what dating Camille was going to be like, he was ready to sign on the dotted line.