Crazy about Cameron: The Winslow Brothers #3(48)

“Doing what, dear?”

Cameron smiled down at his soup, a joy bubbling up inside him as he looked back up at his mother. “Building wineries.”

***

By morning, the torrential rain from the night before had subsided, leaving behind bright sunshine to flood Cameron’s bedroom with possibility and cheer.

He swung his legs over the bed, grinning. His business was sold. His family was—mostly—on board. And today was Saturday. In an hour or so, he was going to meet Margaret in the lobby and drive her out to The Five Sisters, where he intended to carry her into her cottage, up to her bedroom, and have his way with her. All. Weekend. Long.

Cameron’s phone, which had died during dinner at Westerly, was all charged up on his bedside table. He was surprised to see that he’d missed several phone calls and text messages. He clicked on the text icon and realized they were all from Margaret, starting at ten o’clock last night.

10:04 pm M. Story: You’re not picking up your phone, and I don’t know how else to get in touch with you. You’re not at your office or downstairs in your apartment.

10:26 pm M. Story: I know you asked me not to stay at the cottage without you, but Shawn’s called twice. He and Owen have been working for hours, but this rain is eroding some of the vines, and I need to get out there and help.

10:52 pm M. Story: I’m getting on the road now. I’m sure whoever broke into the cottage isn’t coming back anytime soon. Please don’t worry about me. I’m a little worried about you, though. I was sure you’d call me back by now. Please let me know you’re okay, Cam.

5:12 am M. Story: Going to bed for a few hours. We did our best, but we lost some of the vines. I’m so tired and pretty discouraged too. Are you coming to me today? I am worried about you.

Cameron’s heart clutched at the sorrow and exhaustion in her tone, and he glanced at the top of his phone to check the time: seven forty-five.

Quickly, he typed:

Cameron Winslow: I’m coming, baby. I’ll be there soon.

Throwing the covers off his body, he crossed the room in two strides and grabbed a pair of boxers from his bureau, pulling them on with one hand as he found a pair of jeans in another drawer and threw them on too. He brushed his teeth, grabbed his razor and toothbrush and tossed them into an overnight bag. He pulled a navy polo shirt over his head and slid his feet into a pair of old boat shoes sitting by his bedroom door.

Five minutes later, he stood in the lobby, waiting for his car to be brought around.

“Mr. Winslow!” greeted Franklin. “It’s a fine day for an outing. Where are you headed?”

“Out to Miss Story’s vineyard,” he said, impatiently waiting to see his car appear at the curb.

“Is that right?” Franklin moved around the concierge desk quickly and called down the service hallway: “Diego! Diego, come on back here with that FedEx!”

A moment later, a frowning Diego walked into the lobby with a FedEx box under his arm.

“Mr. Winslow is headed out to Miss Story’s vineyard. Why don’t we give him the package?”

Diego took a step back, clutching the package to his chest. “Uh. No. I got it. I go leave it in her apartment.”

“Might be time sensitive, Diego,” said Franklin, holding out his hand. “Better we get it to her today.”

“Maybe she don’t want him bringing it to her. You ever think of that?”

“Diego! What’s gotten into you? Give it to me now.”

Diego thrust the package at Franklin, turned on his heel, and stomped back down the hallway.

Franklin handed the package to Cameron. “Dang, but he’s a moody little son of a bitch sometimes. Oh,” he said, seeming to remember himself. “Sorry, Mr. Winslow. Didn’t mean to speak out of turn.”

“Maybe he’s just having a bad day,” said Cameron distractedly, taking the box. It was another package addressed from Baja California, where Margaret wanted to buy grapes.

Just then, his car arrived at the curb.

“Have a good day, Franklin.”

“Oh, you too, Mr. Winslow,” said Franklin with a knowing grin. “And say hi to Miss Story for me.”

Cameron threw his overnight bag and the FedEx box in the backseat and stepped on the gas.

His woman needed him. Damned if he would let her down.

***

As he turned into the dirt road that led to The Five Sisters, Cameron passed Shawn and Owen in their pickup truck. Both were filthy and looked beyond weary. Shawn shared that they’d done their best to cover and save the grapes they could.

“Miss Margaret did the work of three men,” he said in his usual surly voice, to which Cameron had become accustomed.

“She’s a real nice lady,” said his brother, who, for all of his towering strength, Cameron had learned, was really more of a gentle child–man.

“She sure is, Owen,” said Cameron, giving him a grin, which Owen quickly returned.

“Tasting room looks good,” said Shawn. “All framed now. Roofing started. Coming along.”

“Thanks for keeping an eye on it this week,” said Cameron. “Couldn’t make it out here to check on the progress, but I intend to be here a lot more from now on.”

“Good to hear,” said Shawn with a nod of approval. “She could use someone on her team.”